"I don't love you. I never loved you."
Alfred watched in horror as his girlfriend, Alice, punched her hand through his chest and ripped out his still beating heart. The pain left him gasping, clutching after his missing organ. He pleaded with her to stop but Alice just gave that slight half smile she only barely seemed capable of making and carried his soul out the door. Alfred slumped in the puddle of his own blood. His life force, energy, happiness, draining until everything faded away.
Alfred woke gasping for breath. He felt the skin of his chest. Still intact. He couldn't remember how many times this happened. He reached for her out of habit but felt cold empty sheets. The other side of the bed seemed to stretch out for miles. He felt small like a child in this big bed. He curled into a ball on his side.
"Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?"
Alfred looked up and screamed. A hooded figure stood in the middle of the room. It was another nightmare it had to be! Alfred fell from the bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets, trying to get away. The figure hovered to his side, it's movements inhuman. Alfred reached for a weapon. Anything. His hands grabbed nothing. He waited for the nightmare to take him so he could finally wake up but all he felt were gentle hands on his chin. He stared into the place that he thought there would be eyes.
"Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?" It asked again.
Alfred thought back to his recurring dream. It haunted his nights and made his days hellish.
"Yes."
The soft touch moved his hair from his brow where fingers rested for a few moments before the figure drew close and Alfred felt a pair of lips touch his skin. His fear and pain, sadness and loneliness mellowed to a warm peace and he drifted off to sleep.
AN: This is actually a songfic for Dreams by Fleetwood Mac. I highly recommend to you listen to it. Not just to compare but because it's a really good song. There are more parts to come really soon.