A/N: I've given in. I'm officially cursed.
This is my interpretation of Sophie Bennett at a much older age. And note that this is not a romance story. Not just yet, anyway, because in the end, don't we all love a little romance between the sexy protagonist and his lovely leading lady?
Also, I am the Bunnymund dialogue beta for Sapphire-Raindrop's story 'Skyline'! I thank this wonderful person for reading over my work, for giving me incredible tips and advice, and for being a bloody champion!
Chapter One
Placing the glass full of the bitter, brown liquid down on the wooden counter, Sophie offered a warm smile to the customer as he reached for the glass and took a long swig. He didn't stop there, and continued to drink around three quarters of the glass's contents before setting it back down on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand.
A tinkling sound alerted Sophie that the door to the pub opened, and with it, a cold burst of air spilled over the pub. She shivered as a whirlwind of snow blew in and settled like dust on the wooden floors. Turning to the man, Sophie chuckled.
"Long day?" she asked, nodding her chin toward the man's near empty glass.
The man, a young man in his late twenties with a mop of dirty blonde hair, pulled his scarf off from around his neck and sighed, dumping it on the counter next to his beer. He was a regular customer, and sometimes, if the pub wasn't busy, Sophie offered her ear to him and listened to whatever he had to say. She learned he wasn't a very lucky man, having already been dealt the worst in his young life, and Sophie's heart instantly went out to him.
"You could say that." He then reached into his pocket to withdraw some scrunched up bills and placed them on the counter. Usually, the young man paid enough so he would get roughly around twenty dollars in change, but when the amount he placed down just barely covered his drink, Sophie's heart sunk. Reaching out, she pushed the money back toward him.
He looked up at her, confused.
Sophie offered him a warm smile. "This one's on the house."
"Are you sure?" the young man asked, his doe eyes uncertain.
Sophie nodded.
The man laughed. "If I knew this beer was going to be free, I would have savored it a little longer!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up in the air for dramatic effect.
Sophie laughed and shook her head at the man while tucking a long strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Despite what he had been dealt, he always found a way to smile. It was something Sophie admired about him. Maybe that's why she was drawn to him in the first place; his inner strength was unfathomable.
A small beeping sound came from Sophie's wrist, and she held it up to see her watch beeping and flashing at her while depicting the current time, which was eleven-thirty. A smile crossed her face, and she pressed a button on the side before offering an apologetic smile to the young man.
"Well, looks like my time here is up," she shrugged.
The man seemed to look a little crestfallen, but again, smiled through the obvious pain.
"You have a good Christmas, okay? And don't let that Jack Frost be nipping on your nose on the way home."
Sophie had to stop the frown that threatened to cross her forehead, but nodded anyway. "You have a good Christmas, too."
Waving one last time to the man, Sophie left the front counter and made her way to the back room while untying her apron at the same time. She grunted at the knot, which she had somehow made tighter while trying to untie it. Finally, after some awkward maneuvering, the apron was off, and then hung on its respective hook.
Looking into the small mirror that hung on the wall adjacent to the employee hooks, Sophie admired her reflection. Her skin looked pale and washed out, and her skin was rough and blotchy. She rubbed her cheeks with her hands, trying to get some warmth in them. The pub's heater was on the fritz tonight, much to her dismay. The owner hadn't enough money to pay for its repair, though he was saving for it. She sighed, running her hand through her long hair. She winced as it caught into a knot, and picked it out before collecting her things.
She then slung her bag over her shoulder and exited the room, making sure to turn off the light as she left. Her manager passed her on the way out, a round man with balding grey hair, and he handed her the night's pay in a small envelope that was dotted with Christmas stickers. He then fished his hand into the pocket of his grubby pants and handed her a small wad of money.
"And here's a little extra bonus for you, sweetheart." His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her while patting her on the shoulder. Sophie peeled back the wad, counting its contents. There was about one hundred and fifty dollars in her hand, all in twenties, and she gasped, looking at her boss in disbelief.
"But this was supposed to be for the new heater! Horace, I can't take this from you," she exclaimed, shaking her head and handing him back the small wad of money. His hand came over hers, curling her fingers over and securing the small wad of money in her hand.
"Nonsense," he said. "You deserve this, Sophie, and you know it. You've worked really hard over the past few months, covering for other's shifts to pay for college and whatnot, and, well…" his voice trailed off.
Sophie looked up at Horace, her eyes beginning to water. He smiled back at her, and she threw her arms around him in a big hug. He laughed, Sophie feeling the reverberation of his laugh against her ear as it lay against his big belly. He patted her on the head, and the two separated.
"Now, you hurry on home, okay? The streets aren't safe at this time of night for a young lady," Horace said seriously, hand on her back as he guided her back to the main part of the pub and towards the front door.
Sophie thanked him again for the bonus, and made a mental note to herself to buy her boss a nice present to thank him for all he had done for her this past year. He was truly a selfless person, giving her the job on the spot without so much as a second thought. And throughout the year, he had been kind to her, making sure she was okay every night when she left at the end of a shift.
Sophie smiled as she opened the door. "Don't worry, I'll be careful!"
"And don't let Jack Frost nip at your nose on the way home, got it? Rug up!" Horace called after her as she began to walk down the street. Sophie turned around and waved a hand back to him before turning around a corner. His face, and the bright sign of the local pub, disappeared from her view, leaving her in the shallow light of the street lamps.
Sophie huffed to herself and buried her face deeper into her thick scarf, a slight frown crossing her pale features. The night air was chilly, and bits of snow continued to fall from the blackened sky. The wind blew sharply at her hair, wrapping it around her face and neck, even across her eyes, and she huffed impatiently as her gloved hand failed to pull the hair from her face. She cursed the infamous frost spirit under her breath as she was forced to remove her glove, exposing her hand to the freezing air.
She looked up to the sky and frowned when the wind had quickly changed direction, effectively shifting her center of gravity and causing her to stumble into a street pole.
"You're on thin ice, Frostbite," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
Sophie hated the cold.
It was soulless and empty; abysmal was the perfect way to describe it. And honestly, she would choose the steaming hot pavement that burnt the soles of her bare feet over a frost-stricken lamp post any day.
Sophie gazed to the skies again when the snow began to fall a little faster, a little harder. The wind carried it, sweeping it around the black skies like throes of glitter and confetti. Moreover, it got her to thinking about the young winter sprite whom was the bringer of such dismal weather. Her frown deepened as she remembered that stark white hair and icy blue eyes, coupled with that mischievous smirk that made her want to punch something.
Hard.
A hot lump rose in her chest as those eyes seemed to be etched into her mind, cold and icy, taunting her - mocking her.
When Sophie was younger, along with her brother Jamie, the two were often visited by the winter boy, always running amuck and having all sorts of fun, from snowball fights to snowman building contests. He was their best friend, as they were his. Sophie could never really imagine her life without him. He was like another older brother for her, and a role model for Jamie.
And then he stopped coming.
It wasn't unusual for Jack Frost to skip a play-date. The Bennett siblings knew he had his duties, as did they once they began to grow up and experience things like school, and responsibilities, like pets. But when he hadn't shown up in ten days, the Bennett's knew there was something wrong.
Had something happened?
That was Sophie's first worry. Did something happen to the frost spirit? But when the world wasn't thrown into chaos like it had almost been done with Pitch Black - the Nightmare King - Sophie calmed down a little, and Jamie had reassured her that there must have been a good reason why Jack was gone.
But there wasn't one.
Months passed, and still nothing. Not even a single sign from any of the other Guardians; every Christmas, Sophie would stay up in her hopes of catching North, but he never came. She'd always fall asleep before she could see him. And then, years began to pass them by. Soon, Sophie began to doubt the boy was ever going to come back. Jamie, on the other hand, had told her to grow up, because believing in things like elves and magical beings were for children. He then explained that they were no longer children, and so, they should give up childish things.
Jamie had stopped believing.
Sophie had cried that night. Long and hard, her pillow became soaked with salty tears and muffled with her screams and whimpers. Jamie had grown up, and had done away with childish things, and maybe, it was time for Sophie to do the same. Jack still hadn't shown up, and Sophie was beginning to think that he never would. And maybe Jamie was right.
Maybe it was time to grow up.
The moon was hung low in the sky tonight, hidden behind the clouds. Its partial face was tinged a strange blue colour, looking like a wicked, ghostly grin against the blanket of night; a grin of malicious intent. Wispy tendrils of dark cloud drifted across it, like a mask, hiding deception and ill will.
Casting a wary glance behind her, Sophie gripped the sides of her jacket and quickened her pace as the hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle and stand on end.
She turned another corner, and her footsteps seemed to echo like loud claps of thunder against the brick faced buildings. Someone coughed behind her, her pace instinctively quickened, the soles of her shoes scraping against the pavement as her heart began to beat faster.
The footsteps seemed to be getting closer, and Sophie's legs began to burn in the brunt of the pain. Casting another glance behind her, she saw that no one was there, and that frightened her more. Was she imagining things? Another cough came from somewhere behind her, closer this time, and Sophie broke into a light jog, her breaths coming out in white puffs against the brisk night air.
Fear knotted and settled itself seep within the pits of her stomach, and now, Sophie Bennett was sure she was being followed. Whoever it was, they were gaining on her, closing in, and fast. She hadn't even realized she was running full pelt until she skidded into an alleyway; and to her horror, found that she was cornered.
Sophie was surrounded by tall brick walls on all sides, except for where she had come in. Her heart began to pound as she desperately began to look for a way out. Green eyes were wide and full of fear, landing on each brick wall in dismay. Her breath came out in sharp wheezes, and her heart hammered in her ears. She whimpered aloud, and then froze on the spot when she heard those footsteps closing in on her.
"My, look how beautiful you are in the moonlight."
Slowly, Sophie turned around.
Behind her, at the entry of the alleyway, was a tall figure. His frame was like a silhouette against the blue moonlight, and Sophie squinted against the darkness. As the clouds drifted away from the moon, the figure came alive in the light.
He was clad in tattered clothes that most likely hadn't been washed in a long time. His hair was long and mussed about his dirty, unshaved face. His beady eyes were wild and those pupils were heavily dilated.
Panic rose up in her throat, and Sophie tried to back away, but quickly found herself pressed against the brick wall. The figure began to advance forward, and with every step he took, Sophie became more paralyzed, positively rooted to the spot and unable to move.
"S-Stay away from me!" she managed to scream, her shrill voice echoing off of the walls. She was tempted to run, but he had already closed in on her, blocking any exits that may have been there moments ago. His foul scent stung at her nostrils, she hated the way his eyes were looking at her, roaming over every inch of her body with such an agonizingly slow pace like fingernails grazing over her skin.
The man laughed, a dry cackle, like wind scraping across dead leaves.
"Naw, now hang on a minute there, sweetheart. I wouldn't leave the party just yet…"
Sophie's eyes bugged out of her head when the man slipped his hand into his large trench coat and pulled out something long and shiny. He then moved quickly, pressing the metallic tip of his weapon against her neck while the other hand fisted itself in her hair. Sophie cried out in pain, and he slammed her head into the brick wall. Her vision blurred, and tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
The man's face came dangerously close to hers, and she suffocated under the hot intensity of his breath. His nose brushed the side of her cheek, and she whimpered.
"Come on, now, don't cry. It's no fun when they cry," he wheezed, tip of the gun trailing down past her neck to just above a certain spot where Sophie desperately hoped that it wouldn't travel. His body roughly pressed itself against hers, pinning her between himself and the brick wall. She started to shake, and the tears began to fall.
The gun then came up to press between the junction of her neck and jaw and his other hand left her hair and tugged at her clothes. His breath was hot and heavy against her cheek and becoming more rapid by the second. When he tugged harder, Sophie shrieked, and with all her might, pushed the man away from her. He stumbled back, and Sophie began to run, pumping her legs as fast as she could.
Sophie heard the man shout, and he was behind her within seconds. He grabbed at her flowing hair, effectively throwing her down into the asphalt. Water splashed up onto her arms and legs as she fell, and Sophie cried out. Her head snapped up instantly, fear reaching up and seizing her soul with an icy claw. Her pupils contracted in terror as the barrel of the gun teetered to the left to point directly between her eyes.
Move, her mind cried out. Move, damn it! Run!
More tears sprang into her eyes as the messages failed to reach her aching limbs. The connection was there, all right, but her thoughts were just that inch too short. The voice in her head screamed and shrieked and howled in protest against her paralyzed limbs until the beating of her heart became a loud rushing sound in her ears. Time seemed to stand still; the tiny snowflakes becoming suspended in the air as the trigger was suddenly pulled.
The damp odors of the streets were soon stained with the scent of blood, and the silence was punctured by an agonizing scream.
…
Little girl… little girl, why are you crying?
Out of the darkness came a small voice. Tattered and frayed, it came to life, but just barely. Hands scrambled blindly, searching for anything to cling to. When they were met with nothing but cold air, a whimper broke through the silence, hoarse and frail.
"I… I don't…"
The voice faltered. Cold fear gripped at her, pulling her down into the dismal chasm, far from reach, endless and dangerous. It seemed to cling to her, unshakable and undefined. Hands then came up and wrought themselves through disheveled locks, pained and desperate.
In the darkness, he can see her eyes, blank and unseeing. They seem to be searching for something, something that is not there, begging for a way out. But only he knows.
I can see that inside your restless soul, your heart is dying.
Another sob.
Little one, your soul is purging.
"Where… w-where…?" Her voice trailed off, echoing throughout the endless abyss. She still searches for something to cling to, but is failing. She sways and claws at the ground to keep herself steady.
Little time remains, child. Are you afraid?
"Y-Yes…"
I ask you not to fear me. I ask you not to defy me. All I ask is that you pay attention, for I will only be saying this once. Do you understand?
And all she could do was nod, fearing that if she spoke, she would empty her pits in the wake of such unbearable pain. It began to sear into her like hot coals, burrowing deep below her skin. She began to cry out, hands clutching the sides of her head, as if to ward off the onslaught of pain.
You are special, child. Far more than you will ever begin to know. Time is running out. Your lifeboat of deception is now sailing. In the wake of all that remains, with no rhyme or reason, your bloodshot eyes will show your heart of treason. The sky is falling, little one.
Her pained cries begin to puncture the air, shrill and helpless.
The traces of blood will always follow you home. You are walking with blisters, and running with shears. You are the unholy. You are the sister of Grace. The brutality of reality is the freedom that keeps you from dreaming.
"P-Please…" she whimpers, though she can speak no more.
Advertising love and religion becomes murder on the airwaves, and eternal youth is a landscape of a lie. Slogans are on the brink of war; visions of blasphemy, war and peace will scream at you.
Her whimpers then quickly die. She lays there, eyes wide, body frozen. And then, begins to change where it cannot be seen. He knows now that she is ready. She does not need him anymore.
Do you know what's worth fighting for, child, when it's not worth dying for?
Suddenly, the light comes. Bright and warm, it envelopes her. Invisible fingers reach out and gently ruffle her hair while impatiently tugging on her clothing. She is lost, her mind nowhere near the norm. Memories are scattered and deleted, leaving her a former shell of who she once was.
The light then takes her, silently bidding the darkness goodbye.
Does the pain outweigh the pride?
Please review! x
