New shoes | dnf

Chapter Thirty Nine

tw// talk about rape

Dream POV:

Sam carried George to the bed, and shut the door behind him.

I waited a second, knowing the Brit would be listening. My toned mellowed itself just above a whisper, and remained calm.

"When this gun goes off, you are going to walk out of here. I'm not going to kill you, because you're Karl's friend and I think you'll be useful in the future. But so help me god, if I see you're face within 30 feet of George, you'll be six feet under. Understood?"

His jaw wide open, probably expecting a bullet in the chest or something by now, but nodded.

"Don't make me regret this."

I aimed the gun towards the ceiling, and pulled the trigger as Sam fled the house. I cringed at possibly the stupidest decision I had ever made.

God I was going to regret that later.

Brushing myself off, I knew George was planning some sort of scheme to kill me. I knew it was always a thought in the back of his head, now more than ever since I had just killed a cop.

Why might you ask? Why not tell George that he was alive? Simple. Because it gave him hope.

He had to accept that he wasn't leaving, that his one ticket out of here was dead. Gone. Deceased.

Look, crushing his soul wasn't my intention, and you can call me heartless a million times and I'd agree with you on every single time, but that doesn't change the fact that George needs to know he's mine, and that I control him now. So, if crushing his soul is what I gotta do, guess I'll have to manage.

I stepped into the room expecting anything but the sight of the brunette, but that's what I received.

The Brit was tremendously shaking on the edge of the mattress, his whole body shook in sync.

When he noticed I stepped into the room, he didn't react at all.

I inched closer, and he backed up.

There's the George I know and love.

George POV:

God I was so dead.

But I was past the point where I cared.

The blonde walked into the room, with an unreadable facial expression.

As he neared, I crawled away, and he seemed amused by it. I mentally scoffed, absolutely disgusted.

"So what's my punishment?" I bluntly asked.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and sighed making direct eye contact with me.

"I think that was a punishment enough." he simply responded.

Fighting back tears, I turned away.

"Don't do that."

I ignored him, allowing more tears to roll down my face. Too lost in my thoughts to notice him moving closer, I only realised he was trying to hug me when his warm, comforting hands wrapped around my torso.

I tried to fight it, but I really wasn't in the right state of mind to do anything but cry. So, I embraced his touch, crying into the man that had kidnapped me, hit me, and raped me.