⚠️⚠️ WARNING there is going to be blood, gore and violence in the chapter ahead! It will also include some rather negative comments about ones self and hysterical insanity.
If you do not like any of the above then please skip this chapter and go onto the next one once I have published it.
If you find this hard to read for any way then please click off of it.
If the description of the violence or negative mindset triggers you in any way then PLEASE do not. And I repeat DO NOT! Read this chapter.
Thank you for your time and for reading this warning. If you are still reading then I hope you enjoy this chapter! ⚠️ ⚠️
This chapter is one of the longest I've written and I love it! Hope you all do to!
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It was quiet.
The voices in his mind were so quiet yet so deafeningly loud.
Even the slightest of whispers sounded like a bomb shell in the silence of the moonless night.
He crept through the trees, staying hidden within the shadows, red eyes glowing ever so faintly in the dark.
No one was outside.
They were all asleep.
'Go in.'
He hesitated.
He knew that he wanted to.
No.
He needed to.
His blood rushed like a fountain through his veins, pulses of hate and anguish streaming through his body, fuelling his desires even more.
He wanted to do this.
But what if he made a mistake?
What if someone got away?
What if HE found him all the way out here.
He couldn't let that happen.
He WOULDN'T let that happen.
And so he snuck into the first house...
Two people.
Brothers from the looks of it.
Oh how he would enjoy this.
Massacre went into the first bedroom. And there he was. A tall brown haired man.
He was sleeping so peacefully.
If only he knew.
Massacre raised the netherite dagger he had stolen from Techno and plunged it into the mans throat repeatedly.
Fountains of crimson spilled across the bed as the man choked on his blood, spluttering and gargling until the light left his eyes.
Tears were streamed down the mans face, eyes still wide open.
He had been so violent when stabbing the man.
His head was barely even attached to his shoulders.
Massacre panted quietly.
He couldn't risk being heard until the other man was dead.
And so he went to the room across the hall.
And there was another.
He was smaller than the last, dark brown, nearly black hair fell round his head like a halo.
He was less angry now.
So he only stabbed him once.
He raised his knife once again.
Straight into the younger mans throat.
He too choked on his own blood.
When pulling out the blade some of it sprayed onto Massacre's mask leaving a small streak of red.
A small, breathless laugh left Massacre's lips as the other man too lost the light in his eyes.
He couldn't believe it.
He had just killed someone.
With his own two hands.
He laughed some more clutching at his hair as he collapsed to the floor.
It felt so GOOD.
Why did it feel that way?
Why did if feel so euphoric to end another's life?
An ear splitting grin made its way onto Massacre's face.
Hollow red eyes glowing intensely in the dark room.
He kept chuckling as he left the first house, blade in his hand.
'Onto the second.'
There were four people this time.
He needed to be quick.
And so he was.
Two couples.
Each in separate rooms.
He went to the first door and pushed it open ever so slightly.
There they were.
Two men peacefully laying beside each other.
He was quiet.
Neither of them stirred.
He pulled out another dagger.
Thank the ender dragon he stole multiple from Techno.
This would make it VERY easy.
He climbed onto the bed being very careful to not touch either of the men.
He moved to the one on the left first.
It was a quick death.
He ran the edge of the blade along the mans throat as he applied more than enough pressure.
It was a clean cut.
The mans eyes snapped open as he struggled the breath.
His moving woke the other man.
Massacre pounced.
Adrenaline courses through his veins.
He plunged the knife into the mans chest repeatedly.
Again and again and again till his rib cage looked like a bloody crater.
Anger courses through his veins once again, it's heat returning full throttle.
He growled as he got off of the corpses and left to the other bedroom.
Two more people.
A man and a woman.
The voices in his head were screaming now.
They wanted blood, so it was blood they were going to get.
Massacre got on top of the bed once again, not caring if it woke the two of them up.
He placed his hand over the woman's mouth and nose stopping her from breathing.
She woke and and started to struggle.
"Shhhhh. It's ok. Stop struggling."
Massacre said in a calming voice.
Tears ran down her face but she stopped moving.
He uncovered her nose allowing her to breath.
A sickening grin was once again on his face. One that you could ever so slightly see from underneath his blood covered mask.
Said blood dripped from the mask and ran down the woman's cheek.
"It's gonna be ok. Just relax."
She closed her eyes tightly and silently sobbed against his gloved hand.
He placed the blade just underneath her chin and buried it in her jaw.
He felt the bones in the top of her spine scrape the tip of the blade as he moved it side to side.
He yanked the blade from her throat completely dismembering half of the neck in the process.
Blood sprayed onto the mask and a trail ran along the floor from the side of the bed.
It was warm.
Now her head was only hanging on through muscle and a little bit of skin.
The bone was snapped in two the moment he pulled the blade out and across.
The man was next.
He didn't waste his time with the man.
He knew that he would be overpowered by him so as he climbed on top of the man he raised his knife once again.
Plunging it into his chest and dragging the blade down.
His eyes snapped open and became dull in a matter of seconds.
He saw red.
He couldn't control his body.
His hand moved towards the open wound and plunged itself in.
He gripped the mans intestines and pulled them out into the open air, throwing them into a pile on the bed between the two fresh corpses.
There was so much blood.
He loved it.
As soon as it started it was over.
He was in control of his body once again and so he left to the final house.
There were two people I this house too.
One man.
And one child.
He hesitated.
He didn't know what to do.
His mind played through different scenarios.
He knew he had to kill the man but that would leave the child to find all the bodies.
He would be without a home, without a family. He would have no one if he was left alive.
But could he really kill them?
Only one way to find out.
Massacre made his way into the house, this time being extra careful not to wake up it's residents.
There were only two rooms.
The first one was the man.
He decided to deal with him first.
He slowly entered the room and meandered his way to the side of the bed.
He looked so calm.
His short blond hair fell onto the pillow around him.
Massacre's veins pulses with hate.
With no second thought he plunged the knife into the mans stomach, tearing it up his torso as he screamed.
He stabbed the second knife into his skull, pulled it out, and rammed the two knives into his chest, throat and skull over and over and over again till there was barely even a body to distinguish from the mound of torn flesh.
"Daddy?"
He stopped.
The kid.
He forgot about the kid.
Every muscle in his body tensed and he felt like he was going to throw up.
Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.
He slowly got off the bed and walked towards the little boy in front of him.
The kid was scared.
Understandably so.
"It's okay.
It's gonna be okay kid."
Massacre got down onto his knees and held a hand out to the boy.
"Come here.
You're safe.
I promise..."
The boy hesitantly placed his hand into the outstretched one.
Massacre pulled him closer and embraced him tightly.
"It's gonna be okay."
And with that he brought the knife down and buried it into the boys back.
He let out a small yelp and collapsed further into Massacre's arms, his legs giving out from the pain.
He lay there, against Massacre's chest, crying ever so slightly as blood pooled around the two.
Massacre didn't let go.
He didn't let go as the boy cried.
He didn't let go when the boy clutched at his shirt.
He didn't let go as the boy whimpered in pain.
He didn't let go when the boy finally died in his arms, head pressed against his chest.
'Oh god.
What did I do.'
'You did what was needed.'
'I killed a KID.
I killed a fucking KID!'
Nightmare placed a transparent hand onto Tommy's shoulder looking directly into his tear stained eyes.
He was still clutching the child tightly.
'Would he have been better off if he was still alive?'
Tommy's breath hitched.
'No'
'What would have happened if he was still alive?'
'He would have found his dads dead body. And the others too.'
'Would he have lived a good life afterwards?'
'I-I don't know.
I don't think so.'
Tears were now streaming down Tommy's face, sobs ripped through his throat, each breath feeling like lava in his chest.
He understood that the kid wouldn't have made it long without his dad.
But that didn't mean he wanted to do it.
He didn't want to kill the kid.
But he had to.
The outside world was silent.
There was no wind, no rain, no animals.
Nothing.
The only thing that could be heard was the quiet crying coming from the only remaining person still alive after the bloodshed.
'It's okay'
'Hey it's gonna be okay'
'Your alright'
'It's gonna get better'
'It's okay'
'You had to'
'It's okay'
'You're gonna be okay'
The voices were trying to make him feel better.
They understood the pain he was going through.
It's as Nightmare said.
Their anger was one.
And so too was their pain.
They knew what he was feeling, and they wanted to help.
But there was only so much they could do.
Their anger, their pain, their hatred for Dream, all of it lead to this. If they were calmer Tommy would never have gone to these houses. He never would have killed the child.
But you can't turn back time.
And so there Tommy sat, a child's corpse in his arms, and a symphony of voices trying console him.
He was a monster.
He knew that.
He hated that fact.
But he knew he needed to accept it.
He needed to get stronger.
He had to.
In order to kill Dream, this is what he had to do.
And so as the morning sun began to rise, Tommy left the corpses behind and walked with blood soaked clothes through the trees.
He entered the clearing, went down his makeshift stairs, and collapsed onto his knees in the centre of the main room.
He couldn't move.
His entire body felt like lead.
Tears were still rolling down his cheeks as he leaned against the walls, curled into the corner, and slept. Hoping that when he woke it would all be a bad dream.
Just that.
Nothing more.
Just a bad dream.
.