Dysphoria Extra Scenes

10: The Confession

Alternate Scene #3: The Confession
The final chapter of dysphoria went through a painfully long editing process. I wrote the final chapters (24 & 25) as one and then cut them in half. The first draft looked similar to the final, but then I changed this scene only to change it again a few hours before publishing it. The scene felt so forced and I wanted it to really build up the moment. the only difference here is one line, but it makes a huge one...
——

You stand in front of Dream, and you've never seen him look so... vulnerable. He's broken and bruised, a foreign sight to you. But that doesn't change the facts.

"I could list every single word in the dictionary," You start. "And not one of them could convey the amount of hatred I have for you."

Dream doesn't know how to describe the feeling, but it felt like something inside him shattered. Or maybe it was just the arrow inches from his heart. His eyes sting, every time he takes a breath, it pains him. He doesn't know why.

"You're a liar," You said softly. "I trusted you, Dream. I believed in you. I risked my life — my friends, for you! I would've waited forever for you, but I know now that forever is nothing to you."

"No—"

You press the sword to his heart, leaning to whisper in his ear. "I could pierce this sword — the one you gave me — right through your heart, and you wouldn't die. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because you don't have a heart." You press the tip a little deeper, penetrating his shirt. "There's nothing there. You're a heartless monster, Dream."

"So?" Dream asked. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," You said. "But you're afraid of me."

"Am I?"

"There is something more sinister behind that mask, Dream. And I'll find out what it is, even if I have to pry it from your cold dead hands."

In one quick motion, you grab the two arrows lodged in his shoulder and yank them out. Dream slumps against the wall, blood quickly pooling at his side. It's not enough to kill him, both of you know that.

"Beg."

"For what?" Dream groans, the pain from the arrow was beginning to worsen.

"Me."

"I can't beg for what I know I'll never have."

"But you could've," You murmured. "If you had thought this through, you could have. I would have given you a chance. I already had! And you left me. You promised me you would come back, and you didn't say anything for two years."

"I sent letters," Dream admitted with a strangled gasp. "To your old house. I sent one every day."

"The damage is already done."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not."

"I am."

"Liar!"

"I never lied to you."

"That's such bullshit!"

"You have to understand—"

"You're a monster."

"I'm sorry, please. Please, I can — there's — I didn't mean for this..." Dream can't say anything. Of course he meant for this, but he didn't mean for you.

"Then why?" You asked, gesturing to the place around you. You wipe at your eyes as you step back from him. "I gave you a chance to tell the truth. I gave you a chance with me."

"I'm sorry, please! Please, you have to listen to me," Dream begs. For the first time in his life, he begs.

Or maybe the blood loss is getting to him.

"I hate you," You said. It's the loudest you've ever been, but also the quietest. You don't scream, it's more of a whisper, but it's final. Your voice is soft and unwavering. You made your choice.

Now Dream had to make his.

"I love you," He whispers. It's the first time he's said those words in a long time and they roll off his tongue with a strange feel. He didn't know he was capable of it. Maybe he's misjudging just feelings, still manipulating you with his words. Or maybe for once in his life, he's telling the truth.

And that scares him. You were always his weakest point. He should really just get over it already. But he can't.

The silence that follows after is deafening. The look on your face is unreadable, but he swears he sees a tear slip out. He's not sure he'll ever know if you heard him. 

"Please," Dream whispered, hanging his head low. "Please, (Y/N)." He's not sure what he's begging for, his life, your love, forgiveness?

"You're too late."