Chapter 6: It gets a little easier

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hi :)

the chapter title is from warsaw since i was listening to the album as I wrote the second half of this chapter 

i hope you enjoy since it's a bit of a longer chapter

TRIGGER WARNINGS: suicidal thoughts, panic attack, wounds, past abuse mentions (?)

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Tommy jolted awake. He felt funny, his head felt heavy, as if someone was keeping him pinned down. He felt the world around him. It was soft and cushiony. There was a light weight on top of him and Tommy opened his eyes to the darkness in the room, not a single window in sight. It felt too familiar.

Tommy quickly sat up. His head pulsed unevenly. Dark walls, a single bed, and the only things missing were the chains. Where was he? It felt too familiar to his basement, Dream's basement. He recalled his memories. He remembered talking to Wilbur, he remembered making a latte at the Diner. Tommy paused. He put his fingertips into his thigh, digging them in the area of his wound. Pain rushed down his leg. He began to panic. Has Dream found him? How?

"Let me out!" He cried. He wasn't bound to anything, his wrists were free, but yet his mind played tricks on him. He kicked, he screamed, and he cried. A hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed the boy by the shoulder. Tommy turned in fear.

"Hey- hey- hey, you're okay." It was not Dream. Dream would never talk to him like that.

"Dream?" Tommy quivered. The hand tightened and so did Tommy's chest.

"No- No? It's me, Wilbur." The voice soothed. Tommy felt confused.

"Wilbur?" Tommy whispered. He saw the man's face in full. The darkness around him adjusted itself in Tommy's vision. The man had eyebags under his eyes which were filled with concern.

"You took a nasty spill, what- what happened?" Wilbur asked. He turned on a lamp beside Tommy. The light revealed he was in a bedroom. The walls were bare and there was a single window with blinds that stuck from the top to the bottom like glue. The room was empty, it had a door to his left that led into a sink and a toilet.

"Where am I?" Tommy asked. He sat up in the bed, curling the blanket with his fingers.

The door burst open to reveal a half-awake Phil in full plaid pajamas. He rubbed his eyes and yawned before his eyes dawned on the two of them.

"I heard screaming. Oh- you're awake." Phil walked to the side where Wilbur was standing. A chair was disposed of on the side. Tommy assumed that was where Wilbur had slept.

"You're at our house. We didn't know where to take you, so this is our guest bedroom." Wilbur explained softly. Tommy hummed in response. Wilbur looked at him cautiously before standing up and walking to the bathroom. He came back with a cup of water in one hand and a few pills in the other.

"Do you feel any pain? I disinfected the wound and bandaged it, but the pain will remain until it's healed." Phil explained, Wilbur handed him the pills. Tommy plopped them in his mouth and took a swig of water to swallow them down.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Tommy politely said. It was too quiet, Tommy didn't like it there.

"It's no problem mate. How did you get that wound? It looked pretty serious." Phil asked. Tommy's eyes darted around the room, but he stayed silent. What sort of lie could he come up with for a wound that big?

"I was mugged. Some fuckers stole my wallet and one of them had a knife. Note to self, never threaten a mugger." Tommy laughed. He didn't dare make eye contact. Instead, he stared at the ceiling just above Wilbur's head. Phil glanced at Wilbur, giving him the look that Tommy already knew by heart. The pity look.

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