Principal Howard reminded Edward of his real mother, in a way. They looked absolutely nothing alike, but that look of pure humiliation combined with disappointment and anguish was one that he recognized as his mother's; he'd know it anywhere, since that was the look she wore whenever He was at their small apartment. God, he really was turning into Him.

Still trying to catch his breath, he stood over the leaky water fountain at the end of the fine arts hallway in the dark purple drama wing, gulping in the lukewarm water which had an unpleasant metal taste to it, trying to drown the sludge or at the least get rid of the vomit taste still left in his mouth. Edward knew he would be safe here; the people who associated themselves with theater were usually too caught up in their own drama to pay attention to anything outside their little world.

After drinking his fill of the almost undrinkable water—what he wouldn't give for a cold bottle of Dasani--, Edward dipped his free hand into the jerky stream of water, enjoying the sensation for a moment before wiping it across his forehead. Closing his eyes, he sighed when it predictably failed to dull the steady throbbing. It felt good, though, soothing the hot skin and calming him down a little. A drop worked its way down his face; he could feel the little thing sliding down, only to be stopped above his lip. Puzzled, Edward touched his face with his wet hand, grimacing when he felt what could only be dried vomit. He must look hideous right now. He couldn't help but think of what he must have looked like when he had gone into his first class of the school year. This year was irreparably ruined.

Edward had absolutely no idea of what to do now. His wallet and cell phone were back in his history class, and he sure as hell wasn't going back there. And the rest of the school was in all likelihood swarming with people looking for him, faculty and students alike. It was no secret that he was one of the more hated kids in the school, and most of the students were probably leaping at the chance to get him expelled.

He really didn't want to be expelled. Not because he liked school, but because he would lose his chance at going to college and making something out of his shattered life. He paled. Oh God, he thought, he was going to have to stay here and live on the streets and become Him and…

His shallow breaths were coming very fast, almost to the point of hyperventilation. The sludge was ready if he needed it, needed rage and hate and violence. It was eager to be released, and he would have welcomed it if he wasn't in a public building, with people. He willed it away instead, concentrating on slowing his breathing and thinking about clouds, and oceans, and his piano.

A wave of exhaustion hit him when the sludge finally retreated. He swayed, back and forth, before sliding down the painted brick wall and landing with a soft "thump". Edward tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It felt so nice to just sit…

Edward was running as fast as his ten-year-old self could go, crying in pure terror through the heavily dense forest. The trees seemed to reach out and attack him, their branches leaving huge red bumps and scratches on his skin that hurt from yesterday. There were bugs, too, swarming around him and trying to get into his nose and mouth. But worst of all, it was night. And he was scared scared scared of the dark. He wasn't being a crybaby about that, though. Edward was braver than that.

Edward knew He was many bad, bad things, but He had never lied to Edward. Ever.

Edward's body cried out with every step, but he HAD to keep running. Had to get away. Had to save himself. There would be no rescue; he was his only chance.

That's what He always said. That He prided Himself on being an honest man.

Edward wanted to lay down and sleep, sleep til he saw Mommy again. But Mommy would want Edward to keep going and be strong, like his daddy. Edward ran faster.

He said that Edward wasn't good enough to be honest. That he would have to be weak and lie to the people, because he didn't deserve to tell the truth like He always did.

Edward's chest was a solid block of hurt, hurt, hurt. And his feet felt like he had tied His weights to them with a jumprope. Those things weren't cooperating. But he had to keep going. He had to. For his Mommy.

He said that the only excuse for lying was if Edward was talking to the police or anyone who wanted to know where his mommy was. Edward had to tell those people that He was his daddy, and his mommy was dead. Edward didn't like lying, either.

Edward was on the ground before he felt his foot touch the rock. And now his whole body, mostly his face, was hurt hurt hurt. He tried to get up and run again, but he couldn't. And then he saw Him.

"Well, well, Eddie boy." Edward's body jumped, making more hurt hurt hurt in it. He didn't answer Him.

"I gave you directions, boy, and you didn't follow them!" He yelled. Edward didn't jump this time, even though His voice hurt hurt hurt his ears. "Was it that hard for you to run until I couldn't find you? Really?" he drawled.

He crouched down next to Edward and pulled out a gun. It didn't look like the ones on TV. "I told you what would happen, Eddie. I guess you're so damn stupid that you just couldn't figure out what to do." His breath smelled gross, like the yucky food at the gas station. He put the gun on Edward's shirt, below his shoulder. "Doesn't surprise me, though. You're just as stupid as your slut of a mother. A complete and utter failure, both of you. I'm doing the world a favor. And no one's gonna miss you."

The gun made a funny noise.

Edward wanted Mommy.

Then white light hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt dark black

He knew two things: there was wetness on his face and someone was touching him, shaking him. Yelling at him.

Edward opened his eyes slowly to see a girl crouched down, almost on top of him. She had green eyes. Like his mother's.

The whimper escaped him before he could comprehend its existence in his voice box. It seemed to echo throughout the silent hallway.

Green Eyes bit her lip and looked away. "You were having a dream." She said quietly, her face turned so he couldn't see. "I thought you'd like to be woken up from it." She got up, then, off the dirty floor that Edward found himself laying on and walked away without looking back. From his position on the ground, Edward could see other people, students. Staring at him.

Edward didn't know what to think.

God, he hated The Dream.

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