SAPNAPS PERSPECTIVE:
And just like that, Dream lost control off the car and we crashed.
We're on a bridge and it's snowy and dark right now. There's no one for miles, no reception, nothing. And we just toppled over multiple times and crashed.
I'm the first one outc of the crash, and I can immediately smell smoke and fire. George crawls out from the car.
"Where the hell is Dream?" George asks, a bit of his head bleeding. We both realise he's still in the car, but we pull him out from the drivers seat a few seconds before the car just explodes right there. It breaks off more than half of the bridge. Now we're really stranded.
"Dream, c'mon, wake up, man," I say, shaking him a little. He's breathing, and he has a pulse, but he's not waking up.
"I'll try wake him, look for any head injuries." George says. "Also Check if you have any injuries."
"I think I'm fine. My arm hurts, but that's it," I say. I'm rolling up his sleeves to see if there's any bad wounds on his arms, and I don't think there is.
"Lift the bottom of his shirt," George says, taking a second to sit down and sit back for a bit.
I do, and there's a big gash on his stomach. The blood starts to pour out, but it's not too much.
"Fuck," I mutter. "Call 911," I tell George.
"I already tried, there's no reception. There's nothing out here," he says. "Fuck, it's cold," he says, shivering a bit.
"Edge a little closer to the fire," I tell him. He does, and rubs his hands together, occasionally blowing air into between them.
George helps me move Dream closer to the fire to warm him up, and we sit there for what feels like 6 hours.
"How longs it been?" I ask.
George checks his phone. "4 hours."
"The fires going out, George. We have to do something," I say.
"Yeah, well, in case you didn't notice, not one of us knows where the fuck we are. Dream could wake up in a few seconds, or wake up in a year. Don't look at me like I know what to do, because I know just as much as you do."
"Calm down, I wasn't attacking you. I'm just saying we should do something, like go look around and see what's around. We can use your phone as a light."
"My phone is gonna die. It's on 16% right now," he says.
"See of Dream has his," I say. George checks his pockets whilst the fire completely goes out.
"Shit, it's dark," George mutters. "He doesn't have it on him. It was probably in the car."
"I left mine in the car, too. But- like, surely someone will notice we're missing."
"And then what? They're gonna drive a million hours around everywhere to go find us? We're not even near Florida right now. We're in the middle of no where. I don't even know what state we're in right now, but it's not near Florida. It's snowing."
Suddenly, Dream starts coughing lightly, and wakes up.
"Oh, thank fuck," I say, kneeling down next to him.
"Hey, Dream, are you up?" George says. Dream blinks a few times, tries to sit up, but grimaces and bares his teeth.
"Fuck, my stomach," he complains, laying back down.
"What else hurts-"
"Where the fuck are we?" He says, looking around a little. He lifts the bottom of his shirt and almost throws up.
"Holy fuck," he mutters to himself.
"We don't know. The car crashed, you've been out for 4 hours," I say. Dream carefully sits up, and when he moves his head there's an absolute pool of blood.
"Shit, Dream, don't move," I say. I wipe the blood with my finger and it's fresh.
"Oh my god, he's been bleeding out this whole time," George says. "In his head and his stomach."
"We need-" I start, but I cant think straight. An overwhelming amount of confusion hits me. "We need to walk. Maybe there's a house out here," I say.
"Dream, can you walk?" George asks.
"I don't know, let's see," he says. We help him up, and I can see he's trying not to show any signs of incredible pain. We try to walk, but he immediately stops himself.
"Stop, stop," he shouts at us. He almost completely collapses onto his knees, but we slowly help him sit down.
"Check his stomach," I say to George. George lifts the bottom of his shirt, and the blood is really spilling out now.
"Dream, how you holding up?" I ask whilst George looks for a piece of anything to just cover up the wound better than Dream's shirt.
"I really wanna cry," he says, whining. "It hurts so bad. It hurts so bad," he continuously whines. I can practically feel the anxiety infecting his body, he's starting to shake and his eyes are really watering.
He's laying down on his back, propping himself up on his elbows behind him.
"No way!" George exclaims, rushing over from the now burnt and torn apart car.
"What?" Dream says in a complaining tone.
"Dream, don't freak out, but..." George walks over with the cooler full of alcohol from the trunk. I guess the cooler survived.
"No," Dream immediately says. "You're not putting alcohol on that cut on my stomach."
"First of all, it's not a cut, it's a huge chunk of your stomach. Second of all, we're out in woods. Snowy woods. If it gets infected, you're basically dead."
Dream huffs, "okay. Fine."
"Good. I found a hoodie, too. It's either yours or Nicks, cus it isn't mine, but you can wear this hoodie and we can use your shirt as kind of like a bandage."
Dream puts the hoodie on and takes his shirt off.
George grabs the shirt, ready to put it on the wound, and I'm just witnessing it all.
Dream throws his head back as George unscrews a bottle of Malibu.
"Oh my fuck, oh my fuck, oh my fuck," Dream mumbles.
"Okay. Are you ready?" I ask Dream.
"No. Not at all," he replies.
"Well too bad." I say.
"3. 2. 1." George slowly pours the vodka onto Dream's stomach, and it physically hurts me. Dream is squirming trying not to be vocal about it, but you can see him freaking out and literally wanting to die.
George is stupidly taking his time with it, and almost drops the bottle.
"Whoops," he giggles lightly.
"George!" Dream shouts at him. He's done well over enough now. Dream suddenly sits up and slaps George right across the face. The bottle of vodka rolls right into the car crash, and I guess there was still flame left, because the car lights up again in a huge flame.
I drag Dream away, because he can't get up and move himself. This time, the car explodes. Like- explodes.
I shield my face with the side of my jacket, but I can hear Dream grimace a little, and shout 'fuck.' He just cant catch a break. The cars in absolute flames, and I help Dream move further away. George huffs, looking at the car.
"You have to be fucking kidding me," Dream says, looking at a fresh cut from glass on his neck, and a big piece of glass stuck in his arm.
"Let me die. Honestly, leave and let me die," he says.
"Don't be stupid," George says.
"I'm not." Dream says. He's being serious.
"You think we're gonna leave you?" I ask.
"The only way you get out of here is walking somewhere, anywhere. Follow the road, or find a track off-road. Leave me."
I notice blood is trickling out of his mouth. Slowly.
"Dream-" I start, but he starts coughing. I look at George, who looks like he knows something.
"George, he's choking on his own blood," I say. Dream turns himself over, spitting up blood. The gash on his neck was probably too deep, and combined with the wound on his stomach and his head injury? It was only a matter of time. I try to go to him, but George grabs me.
"Nick, stop," George says.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I shout at George. "He's dying!"
George holds me back.
"I know. I know," he hushes. At this point, Dreams stopped coughing.
GEORGES PERSPECTIVE:
A few seconds have passed, and I know Dream's dead now. I let go of Nick, who kneels down beside Dream, trying to shake him away. It's a scary sight. Your bestfriend dead on a snowy road, blood all over him, and your other best friend trying to wake him up with a fiery car crash in the background.
"You killed him!" Nick shouts at me, tears pouring from his eyes. He shoves me.
"No, Nick, he was right. What's the point in all 3 of us dying out here all because one person was injured?"
Nick is silent for a minute.
"You know, if it was you that was injured, he wouldve done everything he could to save you."
Now I'm silent for a minute.
"Same if I was injured. He was my brother, man. And you just let him die."