Tommy sat curled in his chair. From every direction he would hear yelling and excited shouting; it was all too disorientating. His nails were pressed firmly against his wrist, leaving small crescent shaped makes where they penetrated his fragile skin.

Phil, Tubbo and Principal Ranboo were all excitedly firing questions towards each other and Tommy - it was only Technoblade who noticed what was going on with Tommy.

"Hey dude, you alright?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, just tired. Being Big Man is a lot of work!" Tommy theatrically puffed his chest out at the last sentence, trying to direct Techno's attention away from his lame attempt at an excuse.

"Alright then," Techno seemed unconvinced, but didn't question Tommy anymore, "but let me know if this is all too much." With that, Techno redirected his attention back to the group who were intent on finding answers. Even he occasionally joined in with the conversation, eager to find the secret behind Tommy's knowledge.

While the others were so deep in thought, Tommy snuck away from the rest of the group. He just wanted some peace and quiet; his life had been pretty hectic these last few days. He mentally recapped what had happened.

What did happen? Well, for starters, Wilbur had forced him into a fight, blamed him for a probably real concussion (he had knocked him out pretty hard). Then there was the brotherhood with Techno, argument with Tubbo and of course his ongoing family problem.

Silently standing up, Tommy edged his way towards the doorway of the classroom. He just needed to get away. He shakily opened the door, taking unsure, hesitant steps forward, before silently closing it behind him. Tommy subconsciously let out a sigh of relief.

Finally: he was alone. Tommy's steps echoed through the empty corridors as he ran away from the classroom. Tommy eventually made it outside (where he took a second to hyperventilate) before continuing his run towards home.

Granted, it may not the the ideal place for comfort and quiet, but if he stayed at school, it was only a matter of time before Techno or one of the others found him. Tommy still hadn't fully forgiven Phil yet. The blonde just needed time alone - to think.

Hesitantly, he reached towards the rusting, worn-down handle of his front door. It made an eerie screeching noice when he pushed the wooden planks open. Tommy wasted no time in sprinting up to his room, and balancing precariously along the wooden beams towards a weak attempt of a bed. Sighing, he flopped into the uneven mattress, replaying what had just happened in his brain.

Why was life so complicated!? Why couldn't anything just be easy!? What did he do wrong!? Steaming with anger, Tommy leapt up and punched his disgrace of a pillow. It made a satisfying thumping noise whenever he pounded it with his clenched first. Hot. Sticky tears rolled down his cheeks. The others probably though of him as a freak now. He wasn't supposed to solve those things - Tommy had done wrong. Why couldn't he just be good!?

Their words pounded against the walls of his brain, echoing around him mind. They all had one thing in common: they called him incredible. What did that mean? Him - Tommy as a person - or what he could do? Were they just using him like every other person Tommy was unfortunate enough to meet? He just wished that someone - anyone - would just look him in the eyes and tell him 'well done'. Tell him 'good job'. Tell him 'you're amazing Tommy and we love you'.

His whirling mind was so engrossed in thought, he didn't hear the thumping coming up the stairs. He didn't hear the pounding across the hallway and didn't notice the door creak open. It was only when he felt a firm grip on his hair - yanking him up to his tip-toes and forcing his face up that he realised he'd messed up; he'd been too loud.

"Tom, why could I hear banging from downstairs, and why exactly are home from school?" Tommy said nothing, just looking down at his tattered shoes - only held together by duck-tape. "Answer me, you gremlin!" Tommy felt a sharp tug on his hair, drawing even more tears to his eyes. They threatened to spill, but he knew from experience that his dad didn't like crying. It made him 'look weak'.

"I- I uh... finished my work early so they send me home."

Tommy heard the sound of his father's hand punching his cheek before he felt the pain. The tears building up in the corners of his eyes finally spilled down his face. He bit his lip in order to restrain the cry of pain that would have otherwise left his mouth. Tommy's father hated when he showed weakness.

"I thought I told you to call me Dream, Tom. That's no way to speak to your father now, is it?" Tommy tried to shake his head, but the grip on his hair was too strong, and he felt another harsh throb of pain on his face; this time directed at his eye.

Tommy assumed that the name Dream came from some sort of manipulation technique - the opposite of what he really was. Dream was more like a nightmare if anything.

"N- no Dream. I MEAN YES DREAM!" Tommy instantly realised his mistake: he had yelled.

"What. Did. You. Say." Dream's voice was low and menacing - threading almost. Tommy realised what this was: the clam before the storm.

"N- nothing Dream."

"Oh really?" His voice was now a whisper in Tommy's ear, "because I believe that you just shouted at me."

Before Tommy could respond, he was thrown across the room, landing in a sad huddle in the corner. He didn't have time to get up, before he felt a sharp pain in his ribs. He couldn't scream before there was a forceful blow at his arm; causing a painful cracking noise to fill the room.

Finally, Tommy had enough air to scream out in agony, but this only made the situation worse. Tears finally rolled down his cheeks - he was unable to hold them in anymore. Tommy could taste a metallic liquid in his mouth; probably from biting his lip so much, but it really could be anything at this point.

He felt his body being thrown about the room - kicking coming from all angles. He wasn't sure when, but at some point, Tommy fell unconscious - desperate to escape from the world of pain that he was currently in.

The last thing he heard was, "You're useless Tom... like usual."