Pitch Black- or, Kosmotis Pitchiner, as he had been in his past life, was not a merciful man.
Being the Lord of Fear, the Boogeyman, meant that Pitch had nearly no mercy left in his bones. Nearly zero kindness or compassion.
But he saw her everywhere.
It was like a cruel reminder every time he so much as saw long black hair. Of course, no one's locks would ever be as perfect as hers had been.
Her light waves cascaded down her back in a cute way, accenting her pale face and round eyes.
Or.. they had, as well as he remembered.
When Pitch had stolen that wretched fairy's teeth, he had found something odd. He had, in fact, found his tooth box.
It showed a picture of a young boy with black hair and grey eyes and pale, oh so pale skin. He was grinning, but.. not evilly.
He actually looked happy.
And he looked too much like himself to ignore.
So when he reached out to touch the box in question, it glowed gold and opened. Memory after memory flooded his vision in sights of happy times that, until now, he had not remembered.
Pitch knew only darkness. He had came into being as one with the nitemares. They had been with him for ever, and he knew no other company.
But the box showed a happier life.
The life of Kosmotis Pitchiner. As a child, anyways.
He had been happy.
That idea was so foreign it jogged his mind out of the memories.
His head recoiled and he crashed into another pile of boxes, toppling the lot.
Instead of ordering some nitemare to arrange them, he simply stared at the box in wonder.
He.. had been a person? Before he was the boogeyman.. He had been a son of a general.
And then he discovered, among the rows of teeth, one that looked larger and far more discolored than the rest.
Pitch's fingers had rose to his mouth and probed.
He had always missed one of his teeth, but he assumed nothing. It was a tooth. Of no importance to the Nitemare King.
Now he was missing two, because of that aggravating fairy.
The tooth in the box could be his missing molar.
His hand barely grazed the tooth in question before another enslaught of memories attacked.
Memories serving an army. He had been a general, like his father.
Memories with a woman. Shiny brown hair, curly and lustrous. She had light blue eyes and beautiful warm skin.
The two last memories seemed most important.
He was sitting in a bed with a small child. She was seven, at most. She also had long hair, though less curly. He was reading to her. A bedtime story.
Then she got cross with memory-him. He had told her about another job, and she pleaded for him not to go. She wanted her father.
Pitch kissed her forehead and told her he would always be there.
The scene shifted.
He was standing in a long hallway, guarding a door.
The door was immensely tall and chained with many locks and bolts, which he held the keys to.
Whispers wafted through the door.
Let us out..
Let us feed..
it will only hurt a little..
Pitch ignored them.
Then, a scream shattered the near silence.
A young girls voice, high-pitched and painfully meant.
The general's head turned in a heartbeat, but then tried to turn back around.
Another scream. This time it was a name.
"DADDY!"
Pitchiner murmured a name urgently, then shook his head.
It couldn't be.
Another scream shattered the night, this time it was obvious the girl was being tortured.
Pitchiner could simply not bear it.
He turned and opened all the locks.
On the last one, he hesitated.
Just do it..
She's in here!
He threw the door open.
And immeadiately, the nitemares swarmed.
They feasted on fear and his soul.
He became nothing but a shell of a man, without memories, without life in his flesh. Without compassion.
He had become Pitch Black.
And now, the infamous Boogeyman was having a hard time scaring little brunette girls.
It was absolutely infuriating.