Sorry that the chapters have been short. I'm leading up to 10, which will probably be one of the more important chapters in my FF.

WARNING: NIGHTMARES ARE PROHIBITED FROM READING THIS FANFICTION

Surprisingly, I had no nightmares. The night left me to wander in that empty realm where sleep felt only seconds long. So my body woke exhausted, weak and still gripped with fear of the shadows of my room. My threadbare curtain hung over my window; I remember setting it there when I woke up for a matter of seconds. Now, sitting on my knees, I pull it back to survey the cement-slab wall of building that neighbored us. A patch of frost, a casual effect of the winter to the untrained eye, but shaped like a small, half-circled platform from where I sat. It confirmed my suspicions.

Jack Frost had been watching me. And I wasn't entirely sure I was flattered.

I stumbled out into the hallway that leads from the bedrooms to the living room. The air was chilly, and the heater kicked on when I passed it, like a snoozing employee getting back to work when their boss appeared. Mom had fallen asleep on the couch again. A plaid blanket covered her middle and her feet were still in their house shoes. A brush had fallen from her hand to the floor. I found a rag and mopped up the blue gunk, thankful that our apartment didn't have carpet. Mom touched my cheek, a silent thank you, and fell back to sleep.

The morning was bright, though it was only five after seven. I walked into the kitchen, trying to step my bare feet into the warm light on the floor that fell in from the window. The counters were as messy as my mom's painting area (which was sort of anywhere and everywhere). I set about cleaning most of it up, figuring that the bacon pan can be used again this morning without a problem.

As I cleaned, the weight of the ice necklace chilled my collar bone, reminding me that – no, it was not a dream – and – yes, there was a inky black maniac that was obsessed with me. The thought sent a shiver through me, and I busied myself with laying out the bacon. Once it began to sizzle and pop, Mom was up and refilling her pain mugs.

Setting a breakfast of eggs, toast, and bacon before her, I waited patiently for her to set aside her brush. Mom sighed, looking up at me with puppy dog eyes. It was comical, how I stood above her like the parent and she looked up at me like the child. Finally, she put down her brush and shoveled the meal into her mouth.

"So," she said between forkfuls, "you bought a necklace and not milk?"

My stomach jumped and I reflectively placed a hand over the icy beads. "Nikki gave it to me, actually," I lied. "When she was walking me home. She said she didn't want it anymore." Two lies, right in one sentence. Last night I had pondered how many lies I would have to tell her before she found out.

If she found out.

But Mom scanned the necklace with little interest. "Pretty," was all she said before finishing her meal. I took up the plate, heart drumming in my chest, and set it in the sink. I hardly ever lied to my mother; she was all I had left. I wanted fresh air. I could feel the walls coming in around me. Lies, lies, lies, how many more lies? They mocked me.

"Mimzy?" I jumped when Mom's hand touched my shoulder. Her eyebrows were drawn down in worry. I smiled, nonchalantly shaking off her hand and fixing my own plate of food.

"Sorry, I was in a daze. I didn't get a whole lot of sleep."

She nodded. That she did understand. I can't count how many nights Mom went without sleeping to finish a portrait or organize and art show. I only knew how beautiful her masterpiece turned out. Even now, with its foreground slowly coming together, the portrait was nearly complete. The edges were still white, but I knew she would fill them in no time.

White… snow…and frost…Jack.

I shook my head, mentally clearing the cobwebs and the stormy, icy blue eyes. Mom had gone back to her painting, so she didn't notice the vacant expression I took on when I began to think.

Jack said that he was here to protect me. I could understand that, somewhat, because of the way Tobias' inky hands had grabbed for me. But who sent him? And better yet, why? I found myself absently rubbing the icy beads between my thumb and forefinger. An idea slowly hatched in my mind, and I wolfed down what was left of my breakfast.

Mom glanced at me as I pulled on my coat and scarf. This time I bothered to pull on a pair of nice jeans and winter boots, but kept my Star Wars hoodie visible beneath my coat. I needed to talk to Jack.

"I'm gonna go get the milk."

"Now?" Mom brushed away at the canvas, glancing at me when she could.

"Yea. And cereal. And more bacon." I found the purse that she rarely used and fished out a twenty dollar bill. My hand was on the doorknob when Mom called my name. I turned to face her. She paused, her painting arm resting against the jut of her hip. "Yea?"

"Just…" she trailed off, and then shook her head. "Please, be careful."

I nodded, trying not to look rushed, already pressing the down arrow on the elevator button.

"I love you," Mom said as I stepped into the elevator.

"You too, mom."

She was still looking at me as the sliding doors closed, her shadow oddly elongated against the bookshelf.