And he was there.

Standing before me, beside my father.

He was here.

My mind whirred, a ticking clock resounding through my skull, bring with it the realization that I was crying, blurring my vision. I yanked away the treacherous tears angrily with the back of my hand, furious at myself. I didn't know what would happen now - I had to memorize his face! It would be the only thing to keep me at least the tiniest bit happy for the rest of my short, completely meaningless existence when he disappeared. For he surely did not plant to take me with him.

I heard a thud. blinking in mild shock, I robotically glanced down toward the source of the sound. the red book, Labyrinth, lay there, on the sickly sterile asylum floor. All I could do was stare at the rectangular object, even though I barely processed what I was seeing. Everything around me was deathly quiet - it was deafening blinding.

Something pressed against my hand. I looked over at the source, seeing the book gently bumping my hand, beckoning my pianist's fingers to open. Tentatively, I obeyed, unclenching my fists and shakily taking the book into my hand. I hadn't even noticed that he had picked it up.

'There now,' a soft voice murmured. I looked up. He was kneeling at the foot of my bed, his uneven eyes intently examining my decrepit, dying form. his healthily pale face seemed warmed by the hair, so much like a spider's thread, that was pulled back into a pointy-tail behind his head. a few of the golden strands framing his face. he seemed oddly warm in this soulless room.

'Why…' I stopped, coughing violently into my hands, dropping the book into my lap. I tried not to look at the blood that had seeped from the sickest part of me and into my palms. Instead, looked back up into his face. Nothing felt wrong when I was beholding him. 'Why are you here?' I whispered in my raspy voice, the words hardly audible in my weakness.

'You wished me here, Sarah,' he answered gently, so obviously attuned to my fragile state of being. I said nothing. I think he heard the question in my silence. 'My name in itself is a wish. Do you want to leave this world, Sarah?'

Oh, how I wanted to. To leave everything. Leave all the hatred, despair. Leave all the medications I never took, the nagging nurses, the condescending fathers… all the people who took one look at my wild, short hair that was never washed, my blackened eyes, my anorexic frame and immediately dubbed me insane.

But, confound it, I wasn't insane! And here, just before me, in all his magnificence and glory, was proof. Proof that all along, through all my miserable years of being institutionalized with only my dreams to comfort me, he had truly existed. It was what terrified and excited me - I was here because of him, but was he truly real? What if, all along, they had all been right and I had been the only one to be wrong? But no, now that he was here, I knew. Knew that I was the only person in this whole damn place who ever made any sense.

Slowly, I nodded, looking straight into his shocking, but still somehow mesmerizing, eyes. My breath felt lighter than I ever remembered it being. Could it be from this? From the possibility of freedom? Of life?

Perhaps of… did I dare think it? No, I didn't. it was too much to hope for. It was better to keep those fragile hopes locked deep inside the black hole of my mind, where I knew they would never escape. Not if I could help it, at least.

He gave me a wide grin, extending a folded hand toward me. He slowly opened it, (perhaps for dramatic purposes) showing me a dazzling, tiny crystal rolling lightly on his palm. He rested the outstretched hand on my knee. I felt uncomfortable with the touch.

'Then take the crystal, Sarah,' he murmured encouragingly. 'Take the crystal and be free.'

I was suddenly very terrified. What if this was all a charade? What if his kindness, his gentle ways, were all a sham, a distraction, and illusion?

So what do you say to taking chances?

What do you say to jumping off the edge?

Determination set in, clutching its way mercilessly around my heart. This was the right thing to do. I would have everything I'd ever wanted, needed. I would have Jareth.

With that, I took his hand, falling to black unconsciousness as the crystal melded with my skin.

Never knowing if there's solid ground below

Or hand to hold

Or Hell to pay

What do you say?