A/N: It helps: Listening to the Rise of the Guardians soundtrack when writing. That gets me going. I suggest you guys do the same, because it really is a wonderful soundtrack, and I don't listen to soundtracks very often. ;44;
I also apologize for not updating yesterday, but I'm going to try and not abandon this story. All I can ever write is angst, but for some reason I put it as angst and hurt/comfort, so we'll see where the comfort ends up coming from. I have no idea how I will manage to put that into this story. :D
General POV
F.
He looked down at the now engraved letter that had been carved into his skin, his face an even whiter shade than his natural skin tone was. He wasn't feeling numb anymore. That feeling had only lasted for more than a second. His pale skin wasn't showing anymore, though, for it was covered up by the several bruises that were slashed across his now reddened face. He was definitely shattered and hurt. That was obvious. The Boogeyman was still having his own little amusement to himself, still giving the boy countless whacks until he had managed to draw out the crimson red blood from his skin. The crimson red blood was still leaking out from the boy's arm, patting onto the cold ground as it swarmed around it from underneath him.
He glanced away from his bleeding arm, pleading eyes looking up at the Boogeyman's. "S-stop."
It had finally been enough for the boy, but it wasn't enough for the Boogeyman.
E.
Another letter was engraved next to the f, a deeper cut than the previous one had been before. He didn't care at all if he would pass out in moments, because the way the chains had been attached to him were choking him tremendously. His pleads weren't enough for the Boogeyman to listen to him and and want to stop. He didn't want to stop. It just made him want to give him even more pain to the boy. The boy's staff wasn't broken, but that's how it looked as of now. It was a mess. It wasn't a shade of brown anymore. Instead, it had been soaked in crimson red blood.
The Boogeyman was the only one who wasn't wearing any color. His broad nails kept trailing themselves down the boy's face, and he hadn't let go of the staff even once. The pain the Boogeyman was giving the boy had been more than he had wanted it to be. He didn't believe in himself, but he could feel all the pain that was given to him and he couldn't help but let out those winces and cringes. He was still alive, and he was aware of that.
A.
The third letter was drawn into his skin. It was an even deeper cut, if that was possible. He wished he were in a nightmare, but he knew he wasn't. He was aware of that, even though he was blinking even more now from the weakness feeling that was increasing inside of him. He wouldn't close his eyes, though, for the fear of being whacked even harder by the Boogeyman. He had felt like it was enough right now. He had felt like the pain had been enough, but the shadowy dark figure that was hovering over him didn't think so.
The boy looked down at his arm again, focusing on him closely as best as he could. The letters were becoming fuzzier and fuzzier to him each time, but he had managed to see what they had read out so far. The Boogeyman gave the boy no response from his pleadings, except for the few cackles that had escaped out of his mouth.
"I know your fears, Jack," the Boogeyman whispers softly. "Join me, and I'll make you feel like you belong. After all, what goes together better than-"
"Cold and dark?" he finished off for him, shrugging but still taking his words into consideration. He swallowed, doing his best to make sure his words didn't sputter out. "Yeah, I know, Pitch. You're so predictable."
R.
It was the last slash that the Boogeyman had made. He whipped the staff away from him, his dark and coffee-flavored eyes gazing into the boy's frosty and moonlight blue ones. He hadn't disregarded his offer, but inside the Boogeyman's head he knew that he wasn't going to kill the boy off completely from the world. He still wanted him here. He still needed him here.
"Jack," he spoke calmly, whipping the staff back up to him. "Join me."
He glanced down at his bleeding arm, and then back up at the Boogeyman. His eyes were barely open, fluttering tiredly back at him. His head was painfully throbbing, swallowing hard another time as he stared at him. He just wanted to pass out and dream. He could feel the chains becoming tighter, still motionless. He didn't respond to the Boogeyman's words, but kept his gaze on his. The Boogeyman kept the staff up to his face, still clutching it tightly but not giving it another whack against the boy.
He still didn't answer, but a weak nod soon came out from him in response. That was enough for the Boogeyman.
