Author's Note: I've been hanging onto this story for ages! It feels good to finally have the time, energy, and confidence to get it out on paper. I have to give a shout out to Ellen Weaver for her Labyrinth Story, 'The Demon's Valentine: Fairest in the Land II'. It's available on and an INCREDIBLE read, highly recommended! It inspired me to go ahead and let this story out of my imagination bank, so THANKS Ellen! J
As always, reviews are both appreciated and encouraging. I welcome your input, and since I am my own editor, please do let me know if there are any significant errors to be corrected and I shall do so.
I enjoy writing my chapters along to a background song or soundtrack, if you will. Most of my other stories had a various mixture of artists, but I'm seriously leaning toward making this into a single-band story. I'm not even that big of a heavy metal fan, but Maria Brink's voice is awe inspiring to say the least, so I'd like to open with the song:
['Oh, Lord' by In This Moment]-Thanks and enjoy!
The abrupt screech-like shriek of talons on glass woke Sarah with a start, huffing and wiping drool and smeared lipstick from her crusty cheek. Her bloodshot eyes darted to the window, squinting at the delicate bobbing of a bare branch dancing in the cool early-spring breeze. The back of her arm wiped clumsily at her leaking nose and she pressed up from the cold hard floor onto her trembling arms to glance over her shoulder at the glowing digital clock perched on the bar of the kitchen: 2:34pm. With a grimace she pulled herself up into sitting, already feeling the dull ache setting into her joints. Regardless of the substantial puddle that had collected on the floor beneath her mouth as she nodded off, her mouth was parched and dry. She smacked her dehydrated tongue against the roof of her mouth, rubbing her mascara-stained eyes with both hands.
"Mngh…fuck…" she groaned. The sickness was already pullulating. She approximated that she had only a few precious hours to get something into her system before she went full blown chills and leg cramps. Closing her eyes she reached into her jacket, still donned from the night before, and pulled free the packet of Camels. She tapped at the butt of the package only to find a single spare remaining inside. "Damn." Her fingers dug within the container, brought the filter of her last cigarette to her lips, and tossed the useless carrying vessel aside as she began digging for a lighter.
"Where are you, you little…" she mouthed, muffled over the object between her lips. Her long dark hair swung over her shoulders, tangled and wreaking of weed.
A snort from across the living room of the small apartment caught her attention and she turned her focus to find another crumpled body coming back to life on the other side of the couch. He groaned, scratching the invisible insects plaguing his skin as he sat up and met her green eyes with his blue ones.
"Time is it?" he inquired.
"Gotta light?"
He yawned, palming the breast pocket of his shirt to find his zip lighter and toss it at her. She missed the catch and it went skidding across the floor, inertia impeded by the kitchen table. Sarah groaned, staring over at it as if to resolve whether it would be worth it to crawl the three feet across hard floor to retrieve it. Another scratch at the window drew her eyes to the branch outside, though she fully expected to find the large obsidian orbs of a snowy owl staring back at her, appraising her with judgment in its unblinking gawk. For now, though, there was only the branch. Taking a deep breath, she willed her painful limbs to make the horrible trek on all fours to pick up the lighter and ignite the cigarette now becoming soggy between her teeth. Oh, sweet relief.
Adam sat scratching his curly, black-haired scalp for a long while before snorting loudly and swallowing an audible squishy sound down in that unsettling way Sarah always hated. She made a face and took another long drag off her cigarette.
"Time is it?" he asked again, scratching at his elbow.
She raised her eyebrows and flicked ashes casually onto the floor, "Time to make some money, my friend."
He nodded in absolute agreement, scratching at his chest now. "You got any?" She shook her head. "No, I mean you got any junk?" he clarified.
She shook again, causing him to groan in annoyance. His weaseling irritated her, probably even more so now that her stomach was beginning to ache. He had always been such a useless mooch, but the man had connections to some of the best stuff in town. She made a mental note that it might be in her best interest to work on networking and charisma in her near future.
Sarah reached up and gripped the edge of the table, leveraging herself to finally rise to a wavering standing position before making her way to the kitchen. She opened the small fridge whose light had long since burned out, but she didn't need it. There were only two things in the cool space and only one of which she cared anything about at the moment. Her burgundy-stained lips held the filter of her cigarette as she pried open the bottle of Patron. She hadn't even gotten a swig in before the weasel was calling in from the living room, "Ooohey, can I have some?" She rolled her eyes, drew the last drag of her cigarette, flicked it into the sink, and took a long pull from the bottle before staggering into the adjacent living room to hand it down to the bum on her floor.
"I need a shower before we head out" she said, causing him to grin slyly. "And no. You can't join me."
He frowned at that, lifting his chin to fill his gullet with her tequila. There had been a handful of times that she was just desperate enough to score, but broker than a joke, that she had let him have his weasely little way with her. Luckily, his stamina was something to mock so it didn't have to last too long. Not like Mike. That man took entirely too long to get the job done. Thankfully too, she had always been too drunk, or high, or both to really remember too much about it.
Sarah Williams was a knock out, as she had often been reminded, and she used it easily to her advantage when the absolute necessity arose. As she made her way to her dingy bathroom, starting up the hot water and peeling the clothes from her stinging flesh, she thought tonight might just turn out to be one of those nights. She hadn't had any heroin in nearly two days and the Oxy, weed, and booze were no longer keeping her withdrawals at bay. She needed a fix before the sickness set in too deep and she couldn't even tolerate getting out to find one.
Billowing steam warmed her sore bones, soothing the churning burn in the pit of her stomach. Anxiety began creeping in, however, ruining the splendid bliss of the relaxing moment. Quickly, she cleaned her body, washed her elbow-length hair, and scrubbed the remains of her makeup from the previous night. If she was going to find some poor fool to share his prized bag with her tonight, she'd need to look enticing enough to seduce a junky. Not an easy thing to do when their first and only love was the fix. She'd always been successful in the past, though, so her intentions were riding on that for tonight.
The preening process was near agony. Brushing, blow-drying, curling, dressing, powdering, lining, plucking, shaving. Damn, she despised womanhood sometimes. But the ending result in the mirror brought a satisfied grin to her face as she checked herself from all angles, tousling the roots of her thick strands a bit before heading back into the living room where Adam was busying his thumbs on the keypad of his phone. No doubt he was frantically texting everyone in his contacts to find them a score for the night.
"So, you're broke?" he asked, only just now turning his attention to her. "Whoa. You look…yummy."
Her carefully chosen ensemble was meant to exude an heir of unattainable confidence, yet entice just enough for any lucky buyer to proceed with hopeful intrigue. The winner would be anyone who could get her what she needed for the night. Low riding jeans hugged the curves of her hourglass figure, tapering downward to hide beneath her black, knee-high, pleather riding boots. The cobalt blue corset top was given a classy touch by the black jacket which overhung her feminine shoulders, ending just above her waist to accentuate her inviting contours.
"Come on Sarah", the weasel whined, reaching out a shaky hand for her thigh. "It's been like forever, right? Come on, I promise I won't mess your hair up."
His pleading was beginning to rake her skin harder than usual, exposing the already raw nerves underneath. Her leg kicked at him, missing just barely, "Stop it! Now, hurry up and let's go.
He pouted, pulling his pudgy frame up to stand next to her slender one with a bit of a wobble, "Alright fine. I don't know if I could get it up, anyhow. Fuckin' stomach hurts."
Sarah's arm was shaking the empty bottle of Patron as she eyed him unforgivingly, "Maybe it's because you're an overindulgent freeloader."
"Hey! I'm trying real hard to get you high tonight, alright? Stop being such a selfish bitch!"
The clenched muscles of her jaw protruded beneath her flawless, pale, and lightly freckled skin, and she chewed nervously at the scar inside her left cheek, "Sorry. Let's just go already, I'm really starting to feel it, okay?"
She set the empty bottle on the couch and the pair ventured out into the frigid air, sunlight cutting at their corneas and chastising them for worshiping the night. They clamored into Adam's ten-year-old, beat up, black Buick. He started the engine as Sarah donned a pair of large sunglasses to ease the piercing assault on her eyes.
"Ah man", he groaned, backing the vehicle out of the parking lot in front of her low-income apartment. "Imma definitely have the shits today."
Her top lip curled in disgust, "Take some Imodium."
"No way, man! Sam did that last month and ended up in the hospital, impacted as hell."
She rolled her eyes at him again, "That's because Sam's an imbecile and thought he could avert the withdrawals by taking fifteen of them."
"Really?" His interest peaked. "Does that work?"
Her head rested back against the seat, half willing his skull to explode, "Clearly not."
Irritated wouldn't be an accurate enough description for the way Adam made Sarah feel when she was around him, but there was some unwritten code somewhere which declared junkies should travel in packs. She had to admit she became desperately lonely when he wasn't around, and then the depression would emerge. And when that happened…
Her eyes darted back to the tree where the leafless branch swung gently, framed by the rectangular glass which created the living room window to her tiny apartment. The sightings, as she and herself had chosen to brand them, happened less when she was distracted. And what better distraction than drugs, alcohol, and sex to keep her mind off the bleak truth of what her life had become since she made that one fatal mistake ten years ago.
One fucking mistake. One stupid wish. Who in their right mind could have ever envisioned that it could actually come to fruition? Which was exactly the argument all those damned psychiatrists and hypno-therapists had maintained. She was out of her right mind. A lunatic. And what's more, her parents no longer even trusted her around her own brother. The brother she had risked her very life to rescue and protect from her miscalculated error! She had been honest about the bruises and scrapes on his arms and belly upon returning from the Underground. Hell she had them, too! She'd never harm her brother, she loved him. But one stupid mistake had cost her the trust of her parents and earned her the next year in therapy. When that proved unsuccessful by evidence of her adamant retellings of the events in the Labyrinth, she earned another two years in an institution. Psychiatric drugs dulled her senses, making it easier to ignore the sightings, but they never ceased all together. The flash of a white wing here, the whip of a flowing cape there, the peripheral silhouette of someone watching her from the shadows until she would look their way, then they were gone.
Upon turning eighteen, her parents no longer had power over her. It was her choice to stay at the institution or leave. Of course, she had chosen freedom and was surprised to find that it came with their blessing. Her stepmother, Irene, had pulled the reigns tight on her father over the years, and any discussions made about Sarah's future were heavily scrutinized and shoved into a suffocating box where the girl knew she would never fit. Heads butted, sometimes violently, and eventually the young woman had conceded to the notion that she would never measure up to her parent's, mainly Irene's, expectations. Anti-psychotics were discharged to alcohol. Alcohol invited cigarettes and marijuana. Booze and drugs dipped into liquor and harder drugs. And then there was heroin.
Oh sweet, blessed heroin. Beautiful white or brown powder, or black and sticky sweet, either way she loved it. Injected, snorted, eaten, she didn't care as long as it was inside her, making her feel liberated and at peace. The sightings even became less of a bother. She'd nod off, chuckling lazily at them, talking to them. Taunting them. Taunting him. Provoking his cruelty. She wanted to see it, wanted to feel it. He lurked from the shadows where she had reposed him and he could do no more. He had no power over her, and at times, she could feel his rage heavy and thick in the air like pressure swelling antecedent to a great thunderstorm. She'd cry his name out at orgasm with various nameless partners, knowing he was watching. Always watching. Occasionally she'd request the meekest of wishes, a mere insult to his immense power. She'd toy with him over things like parking spaces or mild weather changes. But not drugs, never drugs. That was hers in her life to control and she'd never let him will influence over it. As revenge, he would torment her in her dreams; sometimes cruel and terrifying, sometimes erotic and frustratingly dissatisfying. He'd bring her to the peak of ecstasy, and then let her fall, waking to an abrupt cold reality as her climax ebbed away from her grasp. He'd never physically touched her, she assumed he was unable to, but his electric presence would ghost over her body like static clinging to her hair, leaving trails of goosebumps and trembling limbs in its wake. There were times she even swore she could feel the subtle beating of hot breath on the skin of her neck, her breasts, and once, even over her uncovered sex as she slept alone and naked in her bed. Clandestinely, she had grown to desire that he could touch her. This was their game, their hell, and it seemed they would suffer in it together forever.
Much like her companions, she had finally managed to lie, cheat, steal, and alienate herself into banishment by her family. The only part about it that hurt was her severance from Toby. She truly wanted to be there for him, watching him grow. Occasionally she would receive a random picture via mail or text, the latest being his tenth birthday. She was not even welcomed to attend, and so her loneliness grew, abated only by the tools and other empty souls at her immediate disposal.
"You gotta work tonight?" Adam's question pulled her from her thoughts about her little brother. How she longed to hear his sweet voice. Mistakes and all, Toby loved her like no one else could, without question or obligation. She missed him more than anything.
"No."
"Damn", he elbowed her lightly in the shoulder. "Let me know. I'll come to your next show for sure."
"Your ongoing support is moving", she responded with monotone facetiousness in her voice.
'Show' was a nice way to say 'striptease', and she was neither proud of nor ashamed by her profession. It allowed her to make money easily with very little skill other than her own genetically fortunate features. She was free to support her drug habit and even arrive having used said drugs to her shifts. As long as she was still sexually appealing to the audience and creating cash-flow, the owners didn't care if she clocked in tripped out of her fucking mind. She had initially been hired as a waitress, but following the many vocal requests by important regulars of the club, she had been easily promoted to the stage. It had taken some private lessons from the other girls to get some rhythm under her, but now she was unstoppable. Her stage name: Alice. Some nights she wondered if she might ever find her way back down the rabbit hole again.
Adam's phone dinged, and taking his eyes precariously from the road, he checked the text message with a satisfied sigh, "Nick's gonna have us some stuff tonight. Sweet."
Sarah felt a tug of relief beneath the pain and nausea growing inside. She may well feel like death warmed over for now, but tonight she would feel like all was right with the world. A goddess on Earth. Alive. She needed it like she needed to breathe.
"When and where?" she dug impatiently for details.
"Says there's gonna be a party at his place later, but we go ahead and come over if we want."
Of course they could. Nick had been after Sarah for weeks, and she was resigned to believe that tonight might just be his lucky night. She was broke, achy, and anxious about the impending symptoms still yet to come. Only once had she tried to survive an entire bout of withdrawals until the end. It was like dying backwards.
Nodding, she unzipped the small clutch in her hand and pulled free the burgundy lipstick that was her staple color, "Let's go, then."
Less than half an hour later, they were parked outside the townhome where Nick shared rental space with two other male roommates. They were all about four years younger than Sarah, and doing their damndest to stay in college per their parent's demands. How they managed to scrape grades, work part-time, and bake, snort, or shoot up in their free time, she had no clue. But they were safe. It was a relatively decent part of town and they all used safe needle practices, justification enough in her mind to settle in for the night and get high out of her mind. Besides that, Nick wasn't a bad looking guy; about 5'11", sandy blonde hair cut short on the sides and longer on the top, runner's build, and brown eyes. He was nice. Boring, but nice.
"Sarah, hey." He smiled at her as he opened the front door. "Come on in."
"Hi Adam", Adam retorted with amused annoyance as he stepped in behind her, "Nice to see you, Adam."
Nick nodded, smacking him lightly on the back, "Yeah, hi Adam." He leaned in to his ear as they watched Sarah head through the living room to the kitchen. "Thanks for bringing her along."
"You do know she's only looking for a fix, right?"
Nick shrugged, "And I'm only looking for a good time. I'll consider it a fair trade."
Sarah shuffled through cabinets, finding a tall clean glass to fill with tepid tap water and guzzle it down greedily. She was catching her breath when Nick's hand slid along the side of her waist.
"Thirsty much?" he grinned at her. She returned it. "Can I get you something else to drink? We've got some Coors Lite and other stuff."
She grimaced, "Coors? Really?"
His smile widened with a shrug, "Hey, college kid, remember?"
She chuckled lightly, "Okay fine. If I can get through the first bottle, I usually can't even taste the subsequent ones."
Releasing her with a purposeful glide of his hand down her side, he yanked open the refrigerator door which came unstuck with a sound akin to Velcro ripping away from its cling. His hand retrieved two amber bottles and he twisted the top off each, handing her one. She took it, they clinked necks with a silent toast, and each took their first swig.
"So, I hear you need to party", he mentioned, casually resting his hip against the counter.
She mirrored him and shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant about the erupting need beginning to bubble beneath her skin, "I could use a little something to help me relax."
Taking step toward her, Nick closed the distance between them and lowered his voice, glancing over his shoulder to ensure his words passed intimately between just the two of them, "I got some sticky black up in my room. Probably enough for two people."
Her chest felt like it would split apart, but she maintained her cool composure, "Lead the way."
Adam was settled into the couch as they passed through the living room on the way to the stairs, Nick pulling Sarah lightly along by her hand. Their mutual friend was cutting white powder with a razor as the other two roommates looked on with anticipation in their eyes. Nick's bedroom was what Sarah had expected from a twenty-one year old living on his own. Beach babes in bikinis littered the walls on glossy posters and the unkempt sheets of his twin sized bed hung over the edge of the mattress, melting onto the floor where a few pairs of shoes and worn clothes had been tossed here and there. He released her hand to make a full hearted attempt at tidying up as she stood in his doorway, coyly curling a few strands of hair between her burgundy-painted fingertips. While the game of female seduction made her feel utterly ridiculous, she had learned how easy it could be to manipulate the environment around her using the promise of her full lips and the subtle sway of her hips. The fresh prickle of electricity licked her skin and she felt the strands of soft hair on her forearms stand on end. A silky grin tugged the corner of her mouth. He was growing displeased with her. She could almost taste his jealousy in the air. It was cruel and dark, deliciously tantalizing.
"What's so funny?" Nick asked, studying her features.
She redirected her faltering attention back to him, smiling brightly, "Nothing. You're just cute, is all."
A faint pink flush spread over his neck and he scratched the nape of hair at the base of his blonde scalp, chuckling lightly, "Ahm…thanks?"
The shoes and a few articles of dirty clothing had been tossed haphazardly into the corner nearest his desk where he was now accessing his computer for some airy background music he felt suitable for seduction. Sarah looked on with the façade of patience, but inside, she was screaming. Thankfully, his next move appeared to prove that he had decided to appease her addiction first and pleasure her later. Tit for tat. Or perhaps it was tat for tit in this case? The clear plastic bag of black tar was retrieved from the desk drawer along with a few necessities for preparing and enjoying said delicacy. Sarah felt her mouth water.
Taking a seat on the bed, he lifted a chin at her, "Come here."
She obeyed, doing her best not to appear so eager. When she was seated, he reached a hand to softly palm her cheek, drawing her slowly toward him for a long drawn kiss that was heavy with tongue. "God damn you're beautiful", he whispered onto her mouth. She could tell it took a great deal of will power to pull himself out of the kiss and refocus onto the tools on his lap; a stained and well used spoon, a lighter, two syringes, and a piece of elastic banding. If she wasn't interested in him before, watching Nick prepare her favorite thing in the world suddenly made him appear extremely appealing. Holding the first syringe in the air, he tapped the air from it gently before eyeing her.
"Would it be okay if I asked you to push for me?" he asked her expectantly.
Sarah grinned at him, taking the injection device in her fingers. He stood, turning slowly to square off with here where she still sat on the edge of the mattress, his fingers fumbling with his belt, button, and zipper.
"Are we changing the subject?" she asked casually.
He laughed with a mild heir of embarrassment, "I can't afford to have my parents finding tracks when they come up this weekend. The groin is fine unless…"
Okay, he really was pretty adorable. The way he shifted there like that, uneasy and already hard just looking at her. Keeping her gaze on his eyes, she slowly reached into the taunt fabric of his boxers and released the trapped and now hungrily throbbing prize within. He sucked air in through his teeth and she could see his breathing rate increase in his chest. Just for fun, she leaned forward and planted an affection kiss directly on the tip, making him moan quietly. Her eyes left his to glance down at the impressive shaft nestled comfortably within her fist, the perfect dorsal vein threading its length and giving her a place to penetrate him with the waiting needle. She could tell he struggled between disappointment and excitement when she did not proceed with the oral teasing, but any complaint he might have soon faded as the drugs infiltrated his system. He became overwhelmed with euphoric relaxation, and as she pulled the empty syringe free, he leaned over her to kiss her deeply with another moan. Her hand squeezed around his shaft and he panted her name.
As aroused as she was admittedly becoming as well, she was far more interested in her own high and broke from him to reach for the other ready syringe. He reached as well, beating her to it. They smiled at one another, his features a bit more lazy and glazed over than hers, and he took a seat next to her to kiss at her neck. Tilting her chin back, she gave him better access as he peeled her jacket from her shoulders, exposing the length of her slender arms. Wet kisses traveled down her skin, trailing a path to the fossa of flesh at the bend in her elbow. She handed him the elastic band and he tied it around her arm, smacking the skin with his fingertips until one of her only remaining veins on that arm perked up for him. The prick of needle on skin sent a rush of excitement through her just before the flood of warmth ran through every inch of her body, killing off the aching, the sickness, and the unbearable anxiety instantaneously.
Nick tossed the syringe aside carelessly and gripped the back of Sarah's this hair, pulling her back in for a crushing kiss. She returned his efforts, tongues tangling one another as they both allowed their hands to travel over clothing and skin, though the clothing was only a hindrance for another few short moments. Soon, they were clumsily clamoring over one another on the bed, beads of sweat beginning to lubricate the flesh to flesh contact.
He was pushing her thighs apart with his knees when she stopped him, "Condom?"
"Oh", he breathed. "Right, right."
Rolling off of her, he dug through the desk drawer again and returned with the small square of rubber, working at the packaging between his teeth. She was doing her best to remain alert and in the moment, but her eyelids were so heavy she could already feel her consciousness nodding out. With a great effort, she willed her eyes to open again only to find that Nick had already succumb to his own ecstasy. He lay dozing on his back next to her, completely naked, condom package dangling from his lips. She giggled breathlessly and lay her head back down, letting the blissful darkness take her.
In her dreams, he was waiting for her. Not Nick. Jareth. She saw the blurred outline of his face come to focus before her, a strange sense of concern on his features. He was saying something to her, shaking her. It felt as if everything moved in slow motion, like she was being swept over by the harsh abuse of unrelenting waves in a vast ocean. She could resurface consciously for only mere moments at a time before the darkness pulled her under again. Each time she emerged, he was there, calling her name, pleading.
What is he saying?
"You…to….you have…Sarah, please…Sarah you have to say it…help you…I can't help you unless you say the words…Please!"
Gasping, she tried to gather the words to ask him what in bloody hell he was going on about, but she couldn't catch her breath. She couldn't breathe. Oh god, she couldn't breathe! The waves were beating her, taking her under, suffocating her in blackness like the weight of a thousand tons on her chest.
"Repeat after me, Sarah", she heard his voice bleed through the emptiness. "I wish you would save me!" He shook her violently. "I wish you would save me!"
Her lips mouthed at the words, but she couldn't form them. She felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, and her chest, how it ached like she had been run through with a blade straight through her heart.
"SARAH!" the scream was deafening, like he was echoing inside her very brain.
It was startling enough to shock a sharp intake of breath into her, barley deep enough for her to gurgle out the words, "I wish…you would save…me…"
The next sensation she was aware of was a terrible plummeting feeling in the pit of her stomach, the way one would feel on the first large drop off of a rollercoaster. The darkness whirled around her in shades of grey, cold air assaulting her naked flesh. She was vaguely aware of the sudden halt in movement, and the moist tickle of damp ground beneath her limbs as consciousness continued to ebb in and out. She still couldn't breathe. Jareth stood over her, peeling the clothes from his body frantically. Initially, she assumed he intended to rape her in her vulnerable state, but as he leaned down toward her, she felt his arms find purchase beneath her knees and shoulders, hoisting her into the air. Only flashes of these events came to her, like images revealed by a strobe light in a dark room. He was sprinting, carrying her in his arms to some destination ahead where his focus lay. Her head became intolerably heavy and lulled back, opening her neck to the sky as her skull hung and bounced in suspended air.
Senses began dulling.
She was fading.
Sinking.
Drifting down beneath the waves.
No air.
No light.
Her limbs touched cold liquid.
Then pain, sudden and tremendous, the worse pain she had ever felt in her entire life. Her body felt shattered, made of glass that had fractured into a million pieces never to be whole again. The jolt shocked her failing system, tricking it into inhaling. Her lungs consumed the oxygen, filling and expanding to near combustion before releasing a horrendous ear-piercing shriek. The remainder of her body, including her head, was submerged into the frigid water. Bubbles escaped her mouth and retreated to the surface where they boiled and rolled as she continued to scream. A force drew her back up from the water and her lungs took another sharp intake of air, muscles involuntarily contracting to relinquish another blood-curdling scream. Again she was dipped, down into the icy depths where her screams were smothered and her body was ripped to shreds. It wasn't until she was pulled from the water the last time that she became aware of her conscious surroundings. The pain ceased just as quickly as it had began and she panted heavily, near hyperventilating to catch her breath.
['Goddess Moon' by In This Moment]
Jareth held her close to his chest, both of them naked and soaked to the bone in the intolerably icy water. Her wide eyes and panic-stricken cries called out his name even though he stood flush against her. He smoothed the long wet strands of her hair back and tilted her chin up to him, stroking her face, voice trembling over the plumes of moisture fogging the air from his breath, "Shh-shh-shh. You're okay. You're alright." He sounded more as though he were convincing himself rather than her. The only light around them was reflected from the full moon above, dancing and illuminating the ripples of the great black lake where they stood, she trembling violently and sobbing forcefully, cradled in the arms of her Goblin King.