A/N: Hey, guys! So, uh. I have a really tough time writing so many characters together, which is why I'm trying to focus more on mainly just Jack and Pitch, but the other Guardians will come later in the story. The hardest part about writing for me is getting all the characters together at once and making sure all of them get enough dialogue, which is why I mostly stall my stories with narration. Eh. Blah, blah, blah. I'll work on that. :P Anyway, next chapter's up!

Jack's POV

Father? I had none. To describe Pitch as a father? God, no. North? Maybe. Enemy? I had one. Family? Yeah, I kind of had one. I used to have one. Do I still have one? Do the Guardians count as my family? Or did they used to count as my family? Have I already lost my family as well as the family that I have vague memories of? I mean, Pitch seems to really be enjoying my company, but that's only the enjoyment out of his own sick and sadistic mind. It doesn't count. He leaves me thinking too much in here.

When I was around North, I guess you could say he acted like a fatherly figure towards me. He was gentle, except when I played pranks and called Bunny names, of course. He had shown me my center, and now I was giving it all away to this: a pity excuse for torture from the Boogeyman. Right now it's starting to hit me just how much I miss the Guardians.

Tooth was like an older sister to me. Bunny was like my brother, you couldn't help but care for him but you still fought with him all the time. Sandy was like my other brother, and although he didn't really talk, I also cared for him. So what am I doing here with Pitch? Are the other Guardians even looking for me? I sigh silently. God, I have no idea. He's kept me in solitude, leaving myself still attached to chains and away from the other Guardians, and I asked for it. His home isn't homely at all. It's pitch black. It's a dark cave, just to the point where I'm at with my thoughts. There will only be nightmares tonight. No dreams.

"You do realize I should be obliging myself to scaring kids under their beds at night?" Pitch whispers through a hiss, using the blade to play with the strands of my hair.

My staff had already become worn out a while ago, so he had taken out a blade instead, which had hurt even immensely more than the staff had. I was already hurt, and now an even more hurt expression is starting to fall on my face. He continues to tease me with the blade and I can't help but look up at him, but I have a feeling he won't strike it through my hair. He doesn't. He just keeps playing with it, teasing me. If he stays here and hurts me instead of giving kids nightmares, then I'm okay with that.

I gulp. "So you're gonna resign to your job for the rest of the night to stay with me?" I laugh lightly, shaking as I talk but not as much since he had somewhat asked me a question. "Yeah, thought you'd might wanna change your routine up a little bit. It must be tiring scaring kids under their beds at night all the time."

"You have no idea," he growls back bitterly, looking down at me with a glare.

I was really shaken up before, but I'm starting to get used to this. He tells me what I want to hear, and sometimes I think that he actually does listen, even if it's through torture. I feel the cold blade against my neck again, feeling him run it up and down slowly. He slashes it lightly, but not enough to cut off my circulation, even though it feels like he had.

I start to feel myself grow restless, blinking tiredly up at him as I try to stay awake. I try to think of which one is worse: Staying awake in a nightmare or falling asleep into a nightmare? I shrug the thoughts off.

Pitch's POV

If he's awake, he has to have nightmares. If he's asleep, he has to have nightmares. He's still chained up, and I'm going to make it stay that way. He's obliged to my rules, but he had been with the Guardians for a while now, and I can't let him play any tricks on me. Not that he has played any tricks on me yet, but there are possibilities that he will. He looks so restless. He looks so tired, and I'd say it had been a while since he had gotten any real sleep for a long time by the bags that are shown under his eyes. But he's afraid to fall asleep, because he's afraid of the nightmares and of what will happen to him if he does eventually drift off.

"Pitch," he says quietly, yawning. "I'm done. I'm weak. I'm tired. I want to sleep."

"I don't want to get rid of you just yet," I chuckle back. "I'm still going to be keeping you here for my own personal amusement. Go to sleep now, Jack. We'll continue this in the morning and you'll wake back up into your own beautiful nightmare again."

"But I don't want to sleep..." He drifts off, sighing miserably with another yawn. "I won't get out of the nightmares even if I do eventually fall asleep."

"I know you won't, Jack, but look how tired you are." I whisper back softly. "You need to sleep."

"But it's even worse in my sleep," he cries out. "I don't..." His eyes flutter back at mine, eventually shutting them closed.

When he eventually drifts off to sleep, I call for my minions that start swarming around him, starting to play with his fragile little mind. It seems different than the usual scaring kids under their beds, but I'm slowly getting used to this new routine.