…4:29. It was late in the afternoon at Twin Seeds High School, and the last day of school to boot. You could practically feel the tension of the students in their seats, feverishly counting down the seconds left until they were free, free at last. Gone would be the tyranny of teachers, schoolwork, and trying to fit society's definition of normal-
BRIIINNG! The silence was broken. The front doors burst open, and teenagers of all sizes flooded out. They were all cheering and whooping, excitedly telling one another about their plans for the summer.
One teenager wasn't talking, but WAS thinking about what she'd do over the summer.
Claris Sinclair was one of the last students to walk out the doors. She was smiling, the latest book of Magical Monsters manga in one hand, and a flyer advertising the Twin Seeds Theatre's production of The Phantom of the Rock Concert in the other. She had almost never been this excited to get home. She could not—could not—wait to tell her parents about this play. Elliot had grinned, and said that she should definitely audition. If she got the part, he said, he'd be in the audience!
I wonder, Claris thought as she finally spotter her dad's car, what HE'LL say if I can find him tonight. And her mind immediately wandered back to around a year ago, when she had first met that dream jester with those bright eyes and that kind smile…
But lately, whenever Claris had gone into Nightopia, NiGHTS was nowhere to be found. He certainly wasn't in the Ideya Palace, where he'd been imprisoned when Wizeman was in power. And speaking of Wizeman…oddly enough, ever since they'd defeated him, Claris couldn't remember having any real nightmares. Except for one…she shuddered at the memory.
I guess he'll know I'm excited about something, she smiled, walking to her father's car. Even before the words, "Who ARE you?" had left her lips, she had felt like NiGHTS had had a connection to her and her emotions.
"Hey, dad!" She spoke as she climbed into her father's Volkswagen, closing the door while buckling her seatbelt. "You'll never guess what happened at school today!"
She didn't notice her father's unnatural silence, or that the route he was taking wasn't the way to their house.
"Elliot's having a party this weekend, and I just found out about this new play the theatre's putting on, called, 'The Phantom of the…Rock'…Dad, is everything okay?...Dad, what's wrong? What's happened? Dad?!"
Knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel, Claris' father swallowed as though he had something in his throat, and opened his mouth to speak:
"Claris, your mo-" his voice broke, and he tried again. "Your mother is…your mother is in a coma…"
Claris went numb. A sick feeling, something cold and slimy, slid into the pit of her stomach, sloshing around. "Wh…what?" She choked out, horror and disbelief emerging from the fog that had begun to swirl in her mind. Her breath quickened as her thoughts began to go into overdrive. Her mother? In a coma? No, it couldn't be…this sort of thing was supposed to happen to other people. Why did she have to suffer? Oh, god!
Suddenly Claris wasn't sure if she wanted to scream, cry, or throw up. Or all three.
--
When they got to the hospital, Claris practically threw herself out of the car. "Where was she, when she…?" She asked shakily, and watched her father get out. He was trembling.
"I'm not sure what happened, r-really…I just found her lying on the bed, stiff as a board…" He replied, walking very quickly.
As they walked through the doors of the hospital, Claris was reeling. This is a nightmare, she thought, while her dad talked with one of the receptionists. It HAS to be. My mom can't be gone, she just CAN'T be. As soon as I get to the hospital room, I'm going to wake up in math class. It's just a dream, it's not real…
She kept telling herself that when her dad walked over to her and said, "Follow me." This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real…It became a chant, a mantra to keep her sane. The farther they went, the faster Claris chanted and moved. By the time they reached the right room, she was sprinting. She threw open the door—
—and found her mother, lying comatose, inside a hospital bed.
Claris' eyes widened. She felt horribly empty, like something deathly cold had eaten all her insides. It was as though every part of her body had forgotten what it was supposed to do.
Every part, that is, except her mind.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as the one, terrifying thought she'd been denying ever since she'd walked through the doors of this place presented itself to her, in all its ugly glory:
This is real.
And then, everything started working again.
"Mom!" She cried, racing over to the bed. An IV was threaded up Claris' mom's arm, and above her, a heart rate monitor beeped slowly. It sounded faint and unsteady, like it could go flat at any minute. Claris did her best to hug her without knocking off the oxygen mask strapped to her face, squeezing her closely as though that would bring her back from the abyss. Claris had been trying her hardest not to cry before now, but this was too much. "I'm sorry!" She howled, and collapsed into a sobbing heap by the bed.
At that moment, Claris would have given anything for her mother's safety. She would have traded all her talent in music if it would mean that her mother would hold her in her arms and tell her it would be all right. She didn't care what happened to her. She just wanted her mother to live.
Claris was crying so hard that she almost didn't hear her dad and one of the doctors talking in low voices.
"…if your wife doesn't come out of her…state…do you want us to take her off of life support?"
"W-well…I th-think that's what Kat would've wanted, so-"
"NO!" Wailed Claris, getting up unsteadily. "Don't kill Mom, Dad! Don't kill Mom!" The doctor called two nurses into the room.
"Okay, could you take her outside, please? She's a little upset-"
"OF COURSE I'M UPSET!" She screamed as the nurses began to lead her out. "MY MOTHER IS GOING TO DIE!"
--
Claris sat in the waiting room as her father and the doctor 'discussed the future.' She wasn't crying as much now. That is to say, she wasn't howling and wailing.
She wiped her eyes yet another time, blew her nose, and turned a page in the magazine sitting in her lap. She knew that people were staring at her, watching her intently. But she didn't care. Not any more.
Nothing mattered to her now.
On the page of the magazine, she saw an ad for the theatre's production of The Phantom of the Rock Concert, and thought about that afternoon. Had it really happened? Was it truly possible that she had been so happy only two hours ago?...It felt like a past life, one that had been happy and carefree…
A past life that had shattered as soon as she saw her mother, lying in that bed.
Claris felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked behind her. Her father was standing next to her; apparently, the negotiations were finished.
"It's…it's time to go, Claris," he whispered, gently rubbing her shoulders. Claris didn't move, and unsteadily stood up a minute later. She took his hand in hers, and they both walked out the doors. They walked until they were standing outside their Volkswagen.
"So…what h-happens now?" Claris stammered. Her father said nothing. Then—they both broke down into each other's arms.
"W-well….I guess we'll just ha-have to make things work…" Claris felt a tear splash onto her shirt, and realized just how bad things were.
--
Claris had terrible nightmares that night. Flashing images of her father howling with misery, her mother screaming as she hit the ground, and beeping flat lines as her mother's heart stopped beating once and forever haunted her, crashing before her eyes. She screamed for someone, anyone, to rescue her, cried for help, oh, god! Somebody PLEASE help me!
But no one came. NiGHTS was gone.
She ran, ran as far and fast as she could, before the slew of gruesome images could catch up to her—
Claris ran down an endless hallway, one with locked doors. She frantically searched for an escape, anything that would save her. But she couldn't find one; the open doors she found were either bricked up or opened into black, empty space.
Finally, she came to one that stood out against the other doors, one that had flickering lights behind it. She skidded to a halt, threw open the door, leaped inside, and slammed it shut. She held herself against it, breathing heavily.
She was so exhausted, she didn't realize where she was.
When she did look around, her heart almost stopped. Oh no, she thought, fearfully taking in her surroundings. Oh, NO…
She was in a manic, brightly-lit, nightmarish lair. One that she recognized all too well…
Two broken Jacks-in-the-box sagged in the middle, grinning insanely. A guillotine chopped away merrily at thin air next to her.
"Oh, my god…" whispered Claris, horrified that this place was still here. "It…it can't be…"
"Oh, but it is!" The voice sent shivers down Claris' spine as her memories went back to a year ago, where that voice had laughed maniacally at her, and its owner had sent a razor-sharp card whizzing past her ear. Praying that her mind was playing tricks on her, she slowly turned around to find—
—the only place in the lair that was steeped in shadow.
A single, pale-blue eye opened, and seemed to float in the darkness.
Then another.
A wide, demonic smile split across the thing's face.
And he stepped out of the shadows. Claris took a step back from the bodiless creature. He wore a jester's cap, one whose horns bounced with energy, along with a pair of gloves and boots. But what stood out the most about his appearance was the large, billowing cloak behind him, flowing and ebbing like the ocean tide.
"Jackle the Nightmaren, at your service, my dear," purred the Nightmaren, bowing deeply. Claris noticed that he looked a little more…ragged around the edges since the last time she'd seen him. He moved with a sort of limp, and his hands and feet seemed more distorted…
Claris managed to get her mouth to work again. "But…but…but how did you-?"
"-Come back? Oh, I have my ways," he answered jovially. He was smiling, but for a minute, his eyes were cold as ice. "Although, you left me for dead, and I almost died…and you did leave me with a few mementos of your wonderful visit…" He gestured to his other hand, and Claris now saw that he was holding a cane. "But!" He laughed, and the frigidity was gone. "How rude of me!" Come, dear Claris, and have a seat…" Jackle leaned on the cane as he limped over to a small table and chairs close by.
Claris cautiously followed the Nightmaren and sat herself down opposite Jackle. Trying her hardest to ignore the sickening noises the guillotine made, she made herself as comfortable as she could.
"So!" Jackle exclaimed, looking at her with deep interest. "How have you been doing, lately, Claris? Did you get the part in that musical?" Later on, Claris would wonder why one of her greatest enemies was so interested about her personal life. She would also wonder why, in spite of being one of her greatest enemies, she had felt comfortable sharing details that she normally wouldn't have EVER shared with him…
"…Yeah, I got the leading part," she babbled. "I was really, really nervous before I went on, but everyone said that I did very well. Elliot sent me the prettiest roses and came to watch, and so did my par…" Claris trailed off as she not only realized that she'd said too much, but remembered the events of that evening…She was trying so hard not to cry in front of Jackle…
"Hey," Jackle whispered, cradling her chin with his hand. She looked into his eyes; she knew she shouldn't trust him, but his eyes just seemed so warm and inviting…"I know what'll cheer you up. How 'bout a nice mug of hot cocoa, hmm? Would you like that?" Claris smiled mindlessly, and she let her guard drop completely. Yes, a cup of cocoa would be wonderful…Jackle was so wonderful,too…She nodded. "Okay, then. Katerina!" Jackle cried, snapping his fingers and leaning back. "A drink, if you'd please!" Somewhere from her subconscious, she heard a door opening. With a stupid smile still on her face, she turned her head—
—and stopped.
Her reverie broke. Her breath stuck in her throat, and Claris felt as though she were choking.
For the woman who was dressed in an orange-and-black dress, with a serving tray in her hands, was her mother.
"Mom," she gaped, and leapt out of her chair and scrambled over to her. "Mom!" She cried, louder this time, and grabbed her mother by the arms. "What're you doing here?" Her mother's empty, unfocused eyes didn't see her child's, and she said nothing. "Mom? Mom, it's me! It's Claris! Your daughter! MOM!" She howled, shaking the woman by the shoulders. The mug and tray fell to the floor, shattering into millions of tiny pieces. But it didn't work. Her eyes were blank, and her mouth was open slightly.
Claris couldn't believe it. Why didn't she answer? Did her own mother even recognize her? She began to cry, clutching her mother tightly.
And then, behind her, she heard a barely audible, "Heh heh heh heh…"
She whirled around to see Jackle smiling evilly at her. "What have you done to her?! ANSWER ME!" She screamed, glaring at the Nightmaren.
"Well…" Jackle answered casually, limping over to the two of them. "…after you almost killed me and practically destroyed my lair, I realized something. Do you know exactly what I noticed, child?" He leaned in close to her, so they were at eyelevel. "Your family owed me a debt." His eyes were full of spite and malice now, yet Claris couldn't look away. "And WHO should I see, lying down for a nap and wondering around Nightopia, but your DEAR mother!" His grin stretched even wider as Claris' blood turned to ice. "And I remembered the little debt you left me, and…well."
"You monster!" Claris hissed, clenching her fists.
"MONSTER, am I?!" Jackle snarled, enraged now. "WHO, may I ask, was the one who BROKE INTO my lair, CRIPPLED me for life, and DESTROYED my home?! Would you care to tell me that, LITTLE DREAMER?"
Claris couldn't speak. She finally turned back to her mother and held her tightly. She couldn't believe he'd done this. She hadn't meant to leave him permanently injured, or destroy his lair…
"…You know…" Jackle sounded calmer, and more businesslike. "…I don't have to keep your mother as a slave…if someone were to take her place…"
Claris whirled around, eyes wide. Jackle was smiling coldly at her now. She knew what he meant. "N-no…I WON'T!" She yelled, glaring once more.
"It's completely up to you…" Jackle shrugged, placing a hand on Katerina's shoulder. "…but your dear mother will stay with me, forEVER,if you refuse…" Claris thought quickly. By accepting, she would become Jackle's slave forever, and leave her friends and family behind. But, by NOT accepting…she would condemn her mother to an eternity of servitude… "…Okay, I see I can't persuade you," he sighed, and began to walk away. "Come, Katerina." He snapped his fingers, and Claris saw her mom trot obediently after him. She felt her chest become ice cold. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't.
"...Wait!" She cried, running towards the departing pair.
"…Yes?" Jackle purred coolly, turning his head. Katerina stopped moving with him.
"All…all right," she whispered, tears rolling down her face. "I'll…take my mother's place." Jackle smirked with satisfaction.
"I'm so glad we could work out a deal," he answered, turning to Claris' mother. "Katerina Sinclair, I hereby declare you free of mind and body, and replace you with your loving daughter, Claris Sinclair!" He snapped his fingers once more, and Claris' mother inhaled sharply as she was immediately back in her pajamas. Claris looked down, and noticed the complete absence of her pajamas. Instead, she was wearing the same outfit her mother had been: An orange-and-black, frilly dress.
"Wear this at all times, to show that you belong to ME." Jackle bent low, and Claris felt something cold against her skin. She looked down at her legs, and saw that Jackle had fixed a small, golden chain above her ankle. "I'll give you five minutes to say goodbye to your mother." He turned and walked away.
"Cl…Claris, what…what am I doing here?" Her mother asked, bewildered, and looking around her. "All I remember is walking through a strange museum, and now…I'm here! And WHAT are you wearing?" She looked her up and down, appalled. Claris smiled sadly.
"Oh, Mom," She whispered, hugging her tightly. "When you…when you wake up, make sure to tell Dad…tell him NEVER to take me off of life support, okay?" Her mom rocked her back and forth, whispering sweet words into her daughter's ear. Claris lost herself in her mother's arms, and for once that day, she felt that everything was going to be all right.
Then…
"…Your time is up." She heard someone speak from behind her, and she turned to face Jackle. He looked at her expectantly, if not a little impatiently. Claris sighed, and pulled herself away from her mother's embrace.
"…goodbye, Mom," Her mom looked confused, and like she was about to say something. But before she could, the Nightmaren was already leading her only child away.
As they walked out the door Claris came in by, Jackle began to explain the rules she'd have to live by. "Refer to me as either 'Master Jackle' or just 'Master' at all times, and always obey my every command. Failing to do so will result in punishment. You will work six days a week, except for Fridays; you get those off. Just ask some of my senior slaves what it is you're supposed to do. Understand?" Claris nodded. "Good." They stopped outside a door labeled, "Servants' Quarters." Jackle pulled out a small, iron key from his hat. He unlocked the door, and it opened to complete darkness. He gestured for Claris to step inside. Frightened of what might be in there, she carefully stepped into the darkness.
"Wake-up call is six A.M. tomorrow." The door shut behind the Dreamer, and the lock went click.
For a minute, she stood there, quivering with fear.
Suddenly, she heard voices.
"Look, we've got a new member…"
"Her hair is so pink! D'you wonder if it's natural?..."
"Well, don't just sit there! Somebody turn on the lights!"
The lights flickered on, and Claris saw where the voices had come from. About five or six girls, dressed in orange-black pajamas were either up on the four bunk beds in the dorm reading, listening to something through a pair of headphones, or writing feverishly at a weathered-looking desk. They all turned their heads and stared at her.
"Welcome!" The tall, brown-haired girl sitting at the desk grinned and jumped out of her chair. "You must be the new girl Jackle was talking about this morning."
"…what?" Claris was confused. She knewthat Jackle had set a trap for her. She just hadn't known he'd told everyone about it.
"Y'know, Jackle said he'd have another slave by midnight tonight…anyway, the name's Fang. I'm his first servant, you know," Fang bragged, shaking Claris' hand.
"Erm…nice to…meet you?" She answered, surprised at Fang's cocky tone.
"So, spill! What was it like?" Fang demanded, and to Claris' surprise, all the other girls were suddenly mobbing her, each asking a different question.
"Did he ask you nicely?"
"Was he a debonair gentleman?"
"He didn't fall to his knees and beg you to be his slave, did he? 'Cause that's what he did for me…"
"Hey, come on, you guys! Give her some room! She's probably exhausted!" The voice came from the back of the room. Claris saw, over the sea of heads, a small girl near the back.
"Oh, shut up, Charon," Fang snapped, facing the girl. She blushed bright red.
"My name's not CHARON! It's 'Charoline!'
"So? I think 'Charon' sounds better!" Fang argued. Claris saw Charoline glare and mutter under her breath. "Anyway, as I was saying before Charon over there interrupted, Jackle was a gentleman to me when he found me...I suppose you're too tired to hear about it now, though." Fang pursed her lips. "Your bed's over there." She flounced back over to the desk, gathered up her papers, and put them in an open drawer. Shutting it, Fang pranced to the bottom bunk closest to the door, climbed in, and shut a pair of black curtains closed over the opening. One by one, the other girls climbed up into their respective bunks, until only Charoline and Claris were still standing.
"…anyway, my name is Charoline, or Charo for short. What's your name?"
"I'm Claris. It's a pleasure to meet you, Charo," replied Claris, doing her best to smile.
"Jackle normally doesn't let us stay up this late, but he said the new girl would be special…well, I guess we ought to get to bed, too. The pajamas should be on the bedclothes, and there's a changing screen by the door."
"Thank you," said Claris, gratefully. She walked over to her bunk. Charo was right; there was a pair of fuzzy pajamas lying on the bed. She scooped them up in her arms, and looked around until she saw the screen. She made her way over to it, and began to change. To distract herself from everything that had happened, she paid special attention to the patterns on the nightclothes: Orange, with little black bats sewed on…
When she'd finished, Claris moved back to her bunk.
"Sleep tight," murmured Charo, and Claris felt the light turn off. She crawled under the covers, staring at the mattress above her. After everything that happened, she thought she'd be awake for hours. But the emotional trauma had taken its toll, and in a few minutes Claris fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
A/N: (Disclaimer) None of the characters (except for Charo, Fang, and the others) belong to me. But the plot idea DOES!
Okay, people, I want SERIOUS criticism here! Tell me what you liked and didn't like, if there was anything in here you didn't get, and how you think I could improve, okay? Thanks! D