8. Flower field at the bottom of the ocean

No.

His body curled. His back, exposed, ash-white.

Oh, god, no, no-

Peter Lake slept in the blue room that Beverly had always envied. Walls of water. Water, like him. Like this. The crushing ocean that shattered his bones.

He looked like he was in so much pain.

This isn't happening.

His face was contorted. His mouth open. And Beverly heard nothing and that made the sight of him all the more horrifying.

Beverly hated the silence. She needed noise. She needed an explosion.

Screams. She was trying to scream. Beverly Penn, a scream.

"Peter!"

Pathetic gurgling.

Say "America".

Charming little girl with a charming little accent.

"Peter!"

He lay in a field of flowers. Creamy and tender like pastry sugar.

This isn't real…

It was so cold down here. And yet she kept diving further into the abyss, weighed down by her own muffled shouting. Her impatience, renewed, and more violent than ever.

"Peter!"

He was holding her.

"Peter, wake up!"

She was in his arms…

"This is all a nightmare!"

But she couldn't recognize herself in these waters.

"Your nightmare, my nightmare!"

At the pierce of these words, his sobbing seemed to weaken and his body relaxed ever so slightly.

"Don't cry! Don't- No! I'm with you still, dammit!"

Her every shout, a tug of the breeze, rushing through his hair. As feeble as a twig in a thunderstorm.

"I'm not done yet! I- I would never-"

This was the first time Beverly saw him cry…

"I would never leave you…"

His face flushed raw. His mouth twisted. His nostrils flaring. Strings of flesh, tugged tight down his neck…

And now she felt a dagger-like pressure in her throat. She began to cry too, though she didn't yet grasp the reasoning behind it.

"There, there… You're okay…"

Ever colder, ever brighter, the deeper she swam. She'd dreamed of fields of flowers before. This was all just a recycled fantasy. Macabre, twisted, horrible.

She couldn't stop crying and she didn't know why.

"As soon as I wake up, I'll eat you up with kisses… Y- You'll- Heh, you'll be confused, but you'll be glad, regardless… I know you'll… be…"

She knew nothing but felt everything.

"I'll hold you and won't let go… un- until you're sick of me, heh…"

She couldn't hear a thing… The water flooded her ears with increasingly ruthlessness… Pebbles, upon pebbles, upon pebbles…

To breathe was to burn. And yet she breathed. Her heartbeat lost to the tide. She couldn't hear her own life, fumbling within her chest. She heard nothing. She couldn't even hear him weep.

"I can't believe I was cruel enough to imagine you like this…"

She was near him now. She could see the glimmering moonlight on his face, the trails of tears that broke through his cheeks. The hairs on his arms. The thin fabric of his drawers. He was trembling so much… He looked so small, even as she inched closer.

"I thought myself kinder…"

His hair, black and unruly and draped across his face. Like a depthless scar. A river of ink. Blood, too, dried, dark. An open wound.

Beverly reached out to brush it away from his eyes.

"Please wake up…"

But then burning white bled through the blue. Beverly squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced away.


Author's Note: To anyone who is here today, thank you for reading.

... Yep. All a dream. For sure. All I have to add now.
I'm in a hurry right now so I have no time to elaborate on this Author's Note at the moment XD. I will just repeat, thank you for reading, and see you next time.