Although George had not walked in weeks, it felt like it had been years.
As he slowly stood up, his legs began to wobble, his unsteadiness due in part to his leg weakness, but also his shot up nerves. He held onto the bed for support in case he fell.
George could swear he could hear the choir above sing as was fully stood up on his own two feet again. Tears of happiness welled up in his eyes as he put one foot in front of the other, which carried him forward.
Yes, his posture resembled that of a baby deer, but it was better than being stuck on his hands and knees and forced to crawl.
His eyes wandered to the open window, which to him looked like the golden gates leading to heaven.
Although it was a rather warm spring night, George’s practically naked body felt cold against the night air as he practically flung himself from the bedroom window. Although the falling distance was only about 5 feet, it was heavily taxing on George’s weakened joints. He fell to his knees, grunting in pain, but only for a moment.
The adrenaline and having his freedom on the line was enough to make him fight through any of the pain he was currently feeling.
As he ungraciously hoisted himself up once more, scurrying to the first somewhat open forest trail that he saw.
It was a gamble and arguably stupid to run into the pitch-black forest at such an hour when the treacherous night creatures were roaming about. He didn’t even have a shield to defend himself. George’s nakedness only heightened his feelings of exposure and vulnerability.
Around him was the haunting ambiance of the night; The groan of zombies, the clicking of bones from skeletons, and the howls of the lone wolves. All of the sounds were merely a blur as the horrifying thought of Dream recapturing him dominated his mind.
As he ran, the soles of his feet began to ache and bleed as thorns, small rocks, and other earthly substances were embedded into his feet. He was blinded as low hanging tree branches slapped against his face and eyes.
Millions of thoughts raced across his mind
“Where am I?”
“Where am I going?”
“Where’s Bad? How am I going to save him?”
“What if he catches me?”
“Am I going to die tonight?”
His train of thought was interrupted as saw the soft faint glow of a single lantern up ahead. He began to slow down, walking towards the light that glowed like a beacon in the night.
As he cautiously approached the light, more of its surrounding came into view. He could see a single rotting tent, a tiny still pond that reflected the soft glow of the waning moon and lantern. He seemed like a small campsite and an abandoned one at that.
George had no idea when he would escape the woods or when he would find clean water again, so he quickly slurped down the pond water. Unfortunately, his hands were still bound in the leather sheaths, so he was forced to drink the water like a dog. He was able to drink effectively, as he had long grown accustomed to drinking without using his hands.
As he greedily drank the water, his eyes wandered to the tent. He wondered if anyone was anything useful left behind within in it, like food, resources, or maybe even something he could use to cut those damned gloves off.
George lifted his mouth from the pond, water dripping down his chin as he walked towards the tent.
Before George was even able to unzip the tent, he felt a stick underneath his foot.
He almost fell onto his face and nearly let out a scream as his ankle was squeezed painfully tight.
When he looked behind him, he found his leg right entangled in a wire snare trap.
George began to panic, roughly pulling, thrashing, and twisting his leg, trying to get it loose, but this only drove the wire deeper into his sensitive flesh.
“HELP!” George screamed as the wire bit at his flesh
“PLEASE HELP, SOMEBODY!”
George was trying to get the attention of somebody, anybody who would be willing to help. He screamed for what seemed like an eternity until his tortured throat finally gave out.
By then, his left leg had given out, sending George face-first into the dirt, his right leg painfully suspended in the air. He didn’t even try to get back up. Instead, George buried his face in his gloved hands and began to let out agonizing sobs. It was pointless. There was no sane person around to hear his screams for miles.
This was it. His final night alive. If the Night Creatures didn’t kill him, then Dream certainly would when he found him. Even if Dream or the monsters didn’t find him, he would certainly die from exposure, dehydration, or something like that.
Yes, he was crying for himself and his thwarted plan for escape, but mostly he was crying for his dear friends.
He had promised Bad that he would escape, and lift him from hell as well. Not only had George damned himself, but he also damned his sweet, innocent friend to a lifetime of humiliation and debauchery. When he found out about George’s death, it would certainly shatter his already corrupted mind and any spirit he may have had left.
He thought of Sapnap as well, his face blurry in his mind. He cried at the possibility that he may have already died; Maybe that’s why he hadn’t come to save him yet…Maybe he had died while looking for him. The Tundra was a pretty dangerous place after all with its bitter cold, aggressive wolves, and thick woods, unforgiving woods.
He cried harder at the thought of his best friend dying because of him plagued his mind.
George was buried so deep in his grief and self-loathing that he didn’t even stop his hideous sobbing when he heard the sound of crunching leaves and snapping sticks from behind him.
George didn’t even scream or struggle. He merely buried his face deeper in his hands and braced himself for the merciful release of death as the heavy footsteps grew closer.
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1052 words
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Dont read this, this is just stories I want to read
FanfictionPt 3 from the last 2 parts.
