{TW at bottom of the page!}

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Tommy lays in bed, too restless to sleep. He tosses and turns, mind racing. He's trying so hard to sleep. Sam told him he would be better prepared for when Dream comes to kill him- but Sam also let him die in prison and has made death threats to him, but Sam is giving him supplies to protect himself from Dream- honestly, it exists. 

Tommy doesn't know what to think anymore. Every time he gets better it only gets worse. 

Dream came back. He always does, he will again. 

Why isn't he building his walls and getting supplies?! What if Dream- oh yeah, sleep. But what if Dream finds him in his sleep?!

His mind keeps racing, possibilities rushing like waves and crashing into the forefront of his mind. He Changes from facing the wall to facing the rest of the room, wondering if he should b on the lookout, sleep with one eye open, and another part of him wonders if he should just sleep, and not care anymore.

That part of him also says he should just die. Let Dream search for him, he'll be dead and free. No more stress. If Dreams does revive him, he still would have to find Tommy. The cycle could continue until Dream gives up.

But dying would hurt, and Dream would find him.

He always does.

A sound from outside puts a stop to the raging ocean, acting as a lifeboat for a split second before the storm hit, putting the thoughts into a worse monster.

'Is it him? Did Dream finally decide to strike?! Oh, I'm so dead-'

Panic.

Panic spreads from his head into the rivers of his blood-streams, turning into adrenaline as saltwater turns fresh. The adrenaline spreads through him as he grabs his sword and shield he set by his bed just for this occasion. He hesitates to go outside, the sound is still happening. It sounds like static grinding into his ear. 

In reality, it's not as loud from where he is standing.

He opens the door from the stone room and creeps into the main room, just as dark as the stone one was. He sneaks over to the wall by the door, preparing himself for terror. He takes a look at Shroud, who is blissfully unaware of the stakes. He breaths in, and opens the door. He dashes out, looking around for that mask. He still hears the sound. It takes him a moment to notice the snowflakes dancing around him, rapidly coating the floor in a thin white blanket. He realizes that the static sound was just the harsh wind, and not Dream coming to chop his head off then revive him.

" Well, that was dumb of me. " He says, chuckling off the near heart attack.

He stands out there for a few moments, just to make sure nobody was there. He takes a moment to appreciate the small flakes fluttering by, going inside once his nose, ears, and fingertips go numb with cold.

He shuts the door and sighs, then he looks up at Shroud, who just chitters happily. He decides some nice warm food would be nice right now. He walks over to his chest and grabs a piece of raw steak and throws it in the furnace. He soaks the warmth of the fire that now aluminates the room in a comforting light. 

He doesn't let go of the sword and shield, paranoia still thick in his veins, but the adrenaline wears off. He watches as Shroud curls into a ball and falls asleep.

I'm Tired.

He falls asleep.

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TW: Suicidal(ish) thoughts, Paranoia

tell me if there are more, please! I don't really have a good grasp of what might trigger someone, 

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Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!