When Nightmares are Present
By: Wolflover77
Enjoy!
Oh, my little monsters! I am so extremely sorry for the long wait… writer's block is a giant pain in the ass, and as a result, this chapter might have to be rewritten. It's terrible. But I figured I'd kept you waiting for far to long, so here it is!
Also, I must inform you that I will now have a beta reader for this story! No more pesky grammar flunkies or anything of the sort! A big thank you to the amazing IstariannaCrudgo, who offered to take up the job; you are amazing my dear and I cannot thank you enough!
. .i' , Guest, Mossistone- thank you very much! Positive feedback always motivates me; you don't know how mappy it makes me to know that people are enjoying my writing!
Miley298- Ahhhhhh, Yes. I'm sometimes terrible at conveying the scene that I wish… this was clearly an example. By "above his shoulder" I meant like on top of his shoulder… collarbone area? Thank you for catching that… I will definitely go back and reword it!
Capricorncool- oh , my! That's terrificallywonderful! I'm blushing! I can't believe someone actually liked my story enough to recommend it to other people! Ahhh you're amazing! Here, have a cookie!
Haker11- Oh no, you most certainly are NOT alone :) I crave the torture… it's so much fin to write! I'll spice it up a little in the next chapter for ya. AND AT LAST. SOMEONE FEELS MY PAIN. Dude, I would stay up for hours looking for good torture fics that weren't cliché and boring. Most of them don't have enough blood and whatnot. Thank you so much for your review!
Scooterstripes- Tell your brother I said hello! Pwahaha. Thank you so very much! I thought I wrote it terribly, to be honest! You're so sweet; thank you so much for the review!
Sue- I've actually had several people PM me about that… it's obviously a slip up I made while writing xD. When I first started writing this, I didn't make him wear sneakers. But for some odd reason in the middle of the story I thought it would be cool to make him have shoes? Haha I honestly don't know why I did it… but from the rest of the story, he will be just like the movie Frost. No shoes.
Drowning Ostrich- Thank you! To answer your question, they knew Jack had gone out and was fighting Pitch. When he didn't come back… they knew something had gone wrong. And about the mood breaks and whatnot… I try to throw that in there every once and a while. I don't want the Guardians to seem depressed the entire story, so I try to flesh them out with some emotion to make it more realistic. Thank you again for your reviews! They honestly mean so much~
Up-in-the-clouds128- that's exactly the reaction I'm looking for! I hope you enjoy this chapter my dear; thank yo for your review!
A/N: The last chapter was a nightmare caused by Pitch.
"Let's just say… I hope you enjoy feeling hot." Pitch's smirk terrified Jack to death. But before the helpless boy could muster a whimper of fear, his entire being was engulfed in a heat which he had never experienced before. Only one thought crossed his mind as he stared up at Pitch's face.
I'm going to die here.
Oh, how sweet little Jack looked when he was sleeping!
Pitch Black stood a few feet in front of the restrained frostling, his hungry, golden eyes scanning the boy's numerous wounds. In his hand was a silver bucket, filled to the brim with boiling water. The man felt the steam burning the fingers that held the handle, but ignored the slight pain.
Anger built up in his core as he looked at the boy. Unstable emotions rambled through his brain at the thought of children actually believing in Jack. The elder had been on the planet far longer than the frost spirit, but somehow the young man had managed to gain believers before he did. The mere thought caused tendrils of hatred to erupt from his black soul; he wanted revenge.
While he had the boy here to find the location of Jamie… he was allowed to have some fun, right?
The grey man put one hand on the bottom of the bucket, and another on the rim, turning it slightly on its side. A sudden sense of excitement overtook him as his arms swung forward, causing the burning water to fly out of the bucket and cascade onto Jack's skin.
Crystal blue eyes shot open, and screams echoed off the hollow walls of the lair. The boiling water hit the boy's ice cold skin like acid, causing large blisters and minor burn marks to well up on his porcelain skin. The pain was like no other he had ever encountered; heat was not only his weakness, it just downright hurt.
The boy's mind was running rampant with thoughts, his disoriented mind scrambling for a way to comprehend the situation. No longer was he in the soft confines of a bed in the Pole's infirmary, or in the presence of his fellow guardians. Eyes darted frantically around his skull, desperately trying to determine his location. It took only a few seconds to realize he was not dreaming anymore, and fewer seconds for his mind to return to the sensation of heat seeping into his skin from the wet fire.
A screech of terror rung from the boy's lips, a chuckle of laughter coming from the man's. Jack desperately wriggled against the wall, realizing with despair that his wrists were restrained.
Minutes upon minutes passed in searing agony as Jack screamed and wriggled, Pitch watching with gleeful malice.
"Wakey Wakey," Pitch cooed, watching Jack slowly gain control again. "I hope that didn't hurt too much, it was merely just a wake- up call!"
Jack glared into the man's eyes, looking up from the position he was in on the ground. Pitch towered over the boy, his shadow consuming Jack's figure. The room was dark and dank, the only source of light coming from several fire-lamps scattered about the stone walls. The light contrasted severely with Pitch's onyx colored figure, almost causing him to look even darker.
"It was once said that eyes are windows to the soul," Pitch said, lightly pacing back and forth. His black robe trailed along the floor, flowing with the darkness as he walked. The only sound that could be heard was the harsh cluck of his boots against the stone floor.
As if on cue, the two spirits locked eyes.
"If that's the case, then your soul must be some kind of ugly." Jack said through his raw throat. This time, he did not regret his witty remark. Instead, he relished the surprised glare in Pitch's eyes.
"You know Jack," Pitch knelt down on his right knee. "you have stunning eyes." The man caressed Jacks chin, tilting the boy's head up to look deep into his eyes.
"When I look into your eyes, I see a sprightly, young, brave guardian. It's quite… awe striking actually, that is, to see someone who went through so many years alone in the world with such bright eyes."
Jack's neck twitched in anger. His skin was tight and red still from the water.
He had gone through so many years alone… hidden his pain from others. Pitch, although he and Jack were nothing alike, did know how it felt to be lonely. To not be believed in. He knew how much the words stung Jack's heart, because he had encountered the feeling himself.
Pitch spat words at Jack without second guessing, causing the teen to relive unwanted memories that he had shoved to the back of his mind. As the memories resurfaced, Jack's eyes grew duller, less alive.
"Jack, you don't seem to understand," Pitch said in an almost pleading tone. "You and I… we could do so much together. Yet you seem to prefer the babbling buffoons you believe are your friends." Pitch smiled, looking at the ground. "You know they don't care about you Jack. They practically let me take you from them."
Jack's heart wrenched. He knew Pitch was lying, but something deep in his stomach told him truth rang in the man's words.
Pitch quickly switched topics, spitting out the words Jack dreaded to hear. "If you would tell me where Jamie is…"
He cried until there was nothing left of him but wet cheeks and shaking shoulders. Tiny hands firmly held the snow globe given to him by the great king of the North.
Jamie sat inside the hotel bathroom, trying desperately to hide his sobbing from his parents. On the floor, torn into several pieces, was Sophie's drawing. The boy had no idea why, but when he looked at the image he felt something- something terrible.
"Something's happened to Jack… I c-can feel it!" Jaime said to himself, hugging the glass globe tightly to his chest. One shake of the snow globe and one whisper of the place he wished to go, and all his questions would be answered.
But Jamie hesitated. He remembered the stern look North had given him when he received the snow globe- "Only use this in emergencies. No other time." Jamie was pretty sure this was an emergency, but he could not bring himself to shake the globe.
What if he was just blowing this out of proportion? What if Jack was safe and sound at the Pole? What if Jamie shook the globe and appeared at the Pole in front of five angry Guardians? What if North took the globe away?
Jamie was torn.
His heart ached, along with his head. He stood and walked over to the paper, and picked it up. Instantly he was overcome with a sense of dread, but this time, something was different. Inside his head a swarm of dizziness ran in circles, causing him to fall against the wall for support. Something was buzzing in his ears. It sounded like someone speaking, but it was garbled and low.
Jaime held his head with one hand, the paper and snow globe in the other. He grunted in agrivation as a wave of dizziness pulsed through him, the buzzing becoming louder, but still only gargled whispers.
He stood against the wall for several minutes until the dizziness finally subsided. The buzzing only seemed to get louder though, becoming less mangled as its volume rose.
"Save," he heard something whisper. Was he hearing things? No he couldn't be…
"whaa…?" Jaime rubbed his head while trying to get his thoughts out of the jumbled mess they were in.
"savesavesavesavesave," the voice was growing louder, almost panicked. The sound reverberated off the inside of Jamie's skull, and he just about lost it.
He fell to his knees, staring at the snow globe.
"Save," it paused.
"save,"
The voice kept repeating itself now, its tone becoming more and more urgent. Suddenly, the globe turned a bright blue, seemingly glowing with gold dust. It blinked slightly in rhythm with the voice's words.
That was when Jamie realized. The globe was the voice. This time, without hesitation, he shook the snow globe and whispered, "Wind, take me to the Pole."
Swirling vortexes of light surrounded him, shrouding him in an abyss of magic. He was swept from his ratty hotel bathroom in Rome into a spinning whirlwind of magic.
Man in the Moon smiled.
Nightmares emerged from the walls and floors, tendrils of nightmare sand snaking around Jack's wrists. Black beads of sand slipped into the boy's hair, grabbing his white locks by the roots and slamming his head onto the ground.
"I don't want you to see until I have finished," Pitch said, smirking. Jack's chest began moving rapidly, and his mind grew hazy as he realized he was not in control of his emotions.
Not knowing what Pitch planned to do to him terrified him more than anything. If he knew what the man had planned, at least he could be prepared for it. Jack felt something cold and hard press against his now warm skin. Seconds later, something cold and hard was inside of his abdomen. It hit his ribcage, scraping against the bone. Jack howled in agony, unable to suppress the cry.
The cold object scraped in different places, in different directions. They were quick movements, but still deep below his skin. He felt drag after drag of the sharp object on his skin. The blade moved in a rhythmic pattern, dancing to a deadly song against his flesh. He withheld his screams, not giving the man the satisfaction. Gurgled moans escaped his lips when the blade sunk into his flesh and brushed against his insides.
The blade ceased its movements, clanking to the stone floor and out of Pitch's grasp. A whisper, almost silent, came from the man.
"Perfect,"
Jack's head was wrenched up by the strands of nightmare sand entangled in his hair, his neck being forcefully shoved downward at an uncomfortable angle. What he saw did not surprise him- it was only more blood. Over the past weeks he had become familiar with the metallic smell of his own crimson blood. No matter how much of it came out of him, he simply just did not care anymore.
"Oh that won't do, it's too messy," Pitch said, grabbing a handful of his robe. His slender fingers wrapped around the fabric and made their way to Jack's chest. The cloth moved in light sweeping patterns against Jack's skin, gently removing the wet substance that hid Pitch's creation. The boy struggled to move his head, but the nightmare sand held fast. When Pitch removed the cloth, Jack's eyes widened, but he did not scream.
He simply went numb.
There, in his own skin, was Pitch's name carved in crooked letters- carved deep into the skin so that even when the wound healed, the pink scars would still spell out the cursed name.
"I'll kill him."
"The infirmary's a mess."
"That filthy bastard!"
North and Bunny shouted out insults, hustling around the Main Lobby frantically. Everything had gone wrong- so bloody wrong. Pitch had Jack again.
Jack's dried blood stained Bunny's fur, as long as some of the wooden panels along the floor where Pitch had dragged him. The pit of North's stomach was filled with a raging fire of anger, demanding immediate revenge.
"I say we barge in on the wanker and knock his brains out." Bunny said, smashing his furry fist into a nearby wall. "I'll take his head, and spin it all the way around his ugly neck until it pops right off!"
"Bunny, Bunny!" North shouted, throwing his hands up in front of the rabbit to calm him down. "We must make plan. You must calm down. We cannot walk blind. We must deal rationally with this,"
"Rationally? North how the bloody hell are we going to rationally deal with this? Pitch has taken Jack twice within the same week- he obviously has something he wants! If we wait any longer-"
North sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bunny, you see, my power- the eyes," North pointed to his eyes dramatically. "I see correct way to do this. We must stay calm and collected-"
Something crashed and hit the floor with a harsh thud. Before North could finish his sentence, all four guardians were standing around a small boy. In his hand he tightly gripped a snow globe, along with a drawing of… them?
"Aye, mate," Aster said, intently looking at the small boy on the ground. "I know this little bloke."
Tooth looked sullen. She did not speak or show any emotion. She simply stared at North, her eyes begging for some kind of emotional release. Toothiana was in no way accustomed to anything in the realm of what had happened to her lately. She had fought and been through many a dark time, yes, but never had someone so close to her ever been in mortal danger. Her sprightly energy had left her long ago during the week, and she was simply an empty shell. After seeing Jack on that stone table, she refused to even smile.
North, however, grinned a bit at the sight of Jamie. The burly Russian had learned throughout his years of war and sadness that people looked up to him as a leader- and leaders do not, under any circumstances, break down and crumble. If North were to show his true emotions he felt about the situation, not only would he crumble, but the rest of the guardians wouldn't know what to do with themselves.
Sandy sat cross-legged next to bunny, his eyes half closed. Besides his usual drowsiness, he was extremely worn out.
Jamie's eyes scanned the room, unsatisfied with the number of people in it.
Jack was not there.
"W-where's… where's Jack?" Jamie whispered, tears of realization welling up in his eyes.
None of them responded.
Jamie began to sob with anger, his fists slamming in a mad frenzy against the wooden floor.
"I asked where Jack is!" Jamie screamed. North's heart wrenched- he knew how special Jack was to this boy; How special Jamie was to Jack. He was his first believer.
Tooth, surprisingly, was the first one to speak up in a monotone voice, "He's not here Jamie."
Jamie looked at her with tear ridden eyes as the words burned themselves into his heart.
Bunny's ears pressed against the back of his head in anger. Sandy was wide awake now, fiddling with a handful of dreamsand. Tooth stared at the ground.
Several minutes of painful silence drew by, each second digging into Jamie's soul with an invisible dagger. His eyes glanced from one guardian to another, pleading for some sort of answer. Someone had to speak up- someone had to know something about Jack's whereabouts.
"Pitch has him." Bunny said finally.
Jamie did not move, but his tears did.
Pale hands grasped at a bloody chest, trying desperately to ease the pain that burned into his skin. A layer of ice formed over the deep gashes as his body attempted to stop the bleeding .
There was so much blood, and all he was doing, all he could do, was lie on the floor in a sobbing heap screaming in agony.
Jack you idiot. Suck it up!
The boy hated himself. Not only had he allowed Pitch to capture him a second time, he gave into the man's twisted pleasures. He screamed when Pitch wanted him to, he cried when Pitch wanted him to… it was sickening- Jack was supposed to be a guardian!
His rasping cries slowly faded into whimpers, and eventually to only heavy breathing. Jack felt a breeze of hope as he gained control of himself again. His hands moved away from his chest, slowly pushing his torso off the ground. He was able to get himself into a comfortable (well, somewhat comfortable) sitting position with his back against the rough stone. The rock cut into his bare back painfully, but Jack focused only on the issue at hand-gaining his dignity back.
Pitch stopped his pacing, turning on his feet to face the boy. Pitch bent down so he could look into Jack's eyes while he talked to him.
"My little song bird stopped singing," the man cooed, grasping Jack's chin. The boy grimaced and tried to yank his head away, but Pitch's grasp was made of steel. "Why is that?" A look of mock sadness came over Pitch's features. Golden eyes locked with blue, the latter burning with an intensity neither man in the room knew those orbs possessed.
"Because you're sick," Jack spat angrily. Taking advantage of his freed limbs, Jack lifted a fist and hit Pitch square in the jaw. Jack regretted it instantly- he had just used the majority of energy he had left in that thrust of anger. Jack cursed silently to himself for making a split-second decision, for possibly causing himself more torture. Although he hated himself for it, he continued to fling insults at Pitch.
"And have no feelings whatsoever. Whatever blood runs through your veins is selfish and demonic. You cause other people pain because you don't know how to handle your own! Your lies are disgusting just like your soul, and you don't even bother to feel sorry for your actions. You're the basic definition of the word dick!"
Pitch honestly looked taken aback, hurt even? But whatever glint of sadness sparked in his eyes vanished in an instant. His sharp white teeth showed from behind his grey lips as he grinned, tracing his finger down Jack's neck. He circled a slender finger around the boy's jugular, feeling the pulse beneath it.
"I wouldn't hesitate to cut that tongue out of your mouth, you know?" Pitch said tauntingly. Jack chuffed out in complete and utter anger. It was as if his words hadn't even been heard by the man!
Jack made an irritated gurgling noise in the back of his throat as he fidgeted at Pitch's touch on his neck. Jack was pissed. Angry. Enraged. Emotionally erratic.
Pitch giggled at the boy's wriggling, moving his hands down to the boy's chest. His fingers felt the lumpy skin where lacerations had been made and bruises formed. Jack jerked at the touch.
The wound that ran from Jack's left hip to his right shoulder had been stitched up nicely, to Pitch's dissatisfaction. Pitch ran his fingers over the sewn-together skin, eliciting a pained grunt from Jack. The teenager jerked, shoving his back into the wall. The wound had just began to heal, and was extremely sensitive.
"These stitches look painful," Pitch said with fake sadness as he continued to run his hand up the boy's chest. Jack growled, warning Pitch that the area was still sensitive. "Perhaps we should… remove them,"
Black ropes of sand came from Pitch's hands, tightly wrapping the boy's wrists and restraining them to the wall. Pitch grabbed Jack's throat, their noses touching.
"Oh Jack, you do not understand so many things." Jack had absolutely no idea what the man was talking about.
His mind was quickly thrown off the subject though; Pitch grabbed a section of the black thread and began to pull it out of Jack's skin. The howl that erupted from the boy's throat was like that of an animal- Pitch loved every second of it. Pitch's nimble fingers slowly un-sewed the black thread from Jack's body, the wound reopening and spilling blood. Jack's momentary feeling of courage had vanished, and he was once again at Pitch's mercy.
Minutes passed, each second more thread being pulled out of his skin. He could feel the gash widening as Pitch undid the stitches; he could feel the blood running down his abdomen and into his pants. Soon enough Pitch was done, a long strand of black rested in his hands. Jack took the effort to look down, only to find himself dry heaving at the sight.
Blood.
There was so much of it.
Too much.
Jack hacked, the only thing coming out of his throat being bile. The taste mixed with the smell of blood was unbearable.
Pitch leaned his head to the boy's ear, his breath tickling Jack's neck.
"Your fear is enticing." The man whispered.
Jack did not answer. He simply wailed as Pitch bit his neck, shoving his hand inside the gaping wound on Jack's chest.
Eh? It's late and I have school tomorrow… but I hope you liked it! Please review- I love hearing you guys' feedback!
Goodnight, and keep Jack in your prayers. He's going to need it!