Apocalypse. (DNF Angst)

Chapter 10: Flames.

♡George pov♡

"What?" He asked.

I looked around at the room again.

"I feel like I've been here before." I stated.

I noticed the nightstand drawer was open a bit. I pulled it open.

A picture?

I grabbed it and looked at it. I felt my heart drop into my stomach.

"Oh yeah, that was on the table. It made me sad, so I put it in the drawer." He said.

"Why did it make you sad?" I asked.

"The kid is most likely dead." He replied.

I slowly shook my head.

"No, he's not. This is me." I mumbled.

"What? Really?" He asked.

I nodded. I began to feel a little nauseous, staring at the picture.

"Did you find any other pictures?" I asked.

"No, I haven't left the room. It was just that one." He told me.

I set the picture down on the bed and got off of it. I left the room, and he followed. I slowly walked into the living room. There was a framed picture of me on the wall. I was smiling widely.

"No." I mumbled, feeling awfully sick.

I went into the kitchen. Framed pictures of me on every wall.

"All of these are you? Who's house is this?" He asked.

"I don't remember. It's me, though." I stated.

♡George flashback, 7 years old♡

"I'm gonna miss you so much, George. We had a lot of fun."

I didn't respond.

"I'm gonna put the pictures up here so nobody can find them. It'll be our little secret, right?"

I nodded.

"Good boy."

♡George pov♡

"The attic." I mumbled.

He followed me back down the hallway. We got towards the end, and I looked up at the attic door.

"Do you want to go up there?" He asked.

I hesitantly nodded. He reached up and pulled the door open since I was too short. He unfolded the ladder, and I went up. He followed, and we both climbed into the attic. We both coughed at all the now kicked up dust.

"All this shit looks useless." George muttered, looking around.

There were a bunch of totes and boxes with labels on them. Most of them were just old clothes or toys. I noticed George had gone quiet. I looked over at him. He was holding a small, square box. His hands were shaking as he took the lid off.

"No." He mumbled.

He stumbled back a bit and fell to the floor on his knees.

"No." He repeated, beginning to sob.

I quickly went over to him.

"What happened?" I asked, pulling him into my lap.

"The dream wasn't just a dream. It was something that actually happened. This is why I couldn't remember my childhood. This is fucking why." He sobbed into my chest.

I hugged him tightly and glanced over at the box he'd dropped. There were graphic photos of the same boy. Some of the boy crying while he was being taken advantage of. The boy that I now know was George.