Crack Of Dawn (Dream x GeorgeNotFound)

Unexpected Visitor

George sat with his back against one of the damp concrete walls, tinkering with a random metallic scrap he'd found laying on the floor nearby.

It was hard to tell when he'd last heard a human voice. Or anything, in fact. It had to have been days. Maybe even a week.

But one thing that made the absolute nothingness even more unbearable... was just how normal he felt. No painful starvation, no sickening dehydration... Absolutely nothing.

It had been off-putting, but that wasn't to say he hadn't put the time to good use. It had started off as something productive to pass the time, and slowly turned into a full-blown obsessive investigation.

He'd taken to delving deep into the memory archive whenever he could scrape together enough mental capacity to do so. It was difficult to get around to, most times, just because of the sheer amount of trauma he was unburrowing from the psycopath's childhood.

He threw the metal scrap to the side, pushing himself up to stand on his numb legs and walk over to the shelves to pore over the items laid out on them. He'd had all the time in the world to observe the room, and that's exactly what he'd done. By now, he could navigate every little nook and cranny, even with his eyes closed.

His eyes betrayed him just for a split second to dart to the corner of the room. He couldn't help but look, every chance he got. Even though what was laying there was the very last thing he needed to face.

It was where he'd wrapped the body up in all the sheets he'd managed to find around the room and stowed it away as far away from himself as possible.

The weird thing was that there was no stench - if the movies he watched were something to go off on, the smell of decomposing flesh should've burnt his nostrils inside out by now, but there was nothing.

He closed his eyes again. Even in the tiny patch of light the dim bulb provided, he preferred not to see at all. It was comforting, in a way, not having to carry the burden of knowing what was there. At least for a moment in blissful ignorance.

He reached out to brush his fingers against the spot he'd placed the headset before. His memory hadn't failed him, since his skin came in contact with a cold surface.

With a soft shuffle, he slid it off the shelf and placed it on top of his head. His muscle memory kicked in to complete the rest of the steps - the lever on the side to turn the headset on, a drop of the murderer's blood in the iridescent liquid, and a whole lot of patience.

He sat back down on his spot on the cold floor, waiting for the effects to kick in.

Within a few moments, he was back to a familiar empty field. Birdsong filled his ears as warm sunlight poured into his vision and down onto vibrant green grass all around his feet.

He circled back to past events to think of a good memory to visit. Something that'd be helpful to him in the long run.

There was an odd detail that stuck out to him. The crystal he'd been shown after... the thing. Nothing about a kind controlling rock seemed normal to him, if that even was the real method Clay had used to get the man to his lair.

Nevertheless, his vision blacked out, imagery forming before his eyes on its own. His body became one with Clay's to relive the memory as his own.

Clay and his mother, Elaine, were sitting around a wooden table with a barebones cake on top. A single candle placed in the center of it was the only light source illuminating the room, the rest of it plunged into pitch black.

"Alright, sweetie." Elaine reached over to place a hand on top Clay's. Something was off about her fingers - he couldn't place exactly what, but they seemed... longer. "Make a wish."