Quick Author's Note: I apologize for the extraordinarily long period
between updates. I've been swamped with school (ew, college) but it's
spring break now and I hope to add a few chapters. Anyway, I hope I haven't
angered you all so badly that you won't read any more. I promise I'll be
better! Thank you *SO* much to those of you that reviewed. You're all
wonderful beyond words. Please let me know what you think of the latest.
And constructive criticism is completely welcome and encouraged!
Standard Disclaimer: I still don't own it. None of it. I'm a poor, pathetic college student with a dream. Hell, Jareth won't even answer me when I try to call him. How's that for sad? Give a girl a break. Please?
***************************************************
Jareth materialized in Sarah's dorm room, her lifeless body still hanging in his arms. The room's cold, bare walls created a distinctly institutional feel. A simple desk and chest of drawers were the only items that filled the space. There was only one decoration that he could see, a framed picture of Sarah and a young boy, who he could only assume was her brother. The child had grown much older.
The Goblin King felt a acute sense of dismay. This bleak room, completely devoid of all warmth and personality, was where his Sarah lived. He hadn't been aware. Bitter resentment had prevented him from looking in on her since the night she had defeated him. The night on which she had called her friends to her to celebrate her victory. She had not called him to her on that night. Of course not. Why would she ever wish to see the villain that had stolen her brother, the King she had vanquished?
So Jareth had disregarded her very existence, trying desperately to erase the lingering memories of the girl and her time in his realm, refusing to satisfy the curiosity that blazed inside him. His bruised pride had refused to allow such petty indulgences. But over time that anger had faded.
She had denied him three times, rejecting his generous offer of her every fantasy made reality. The King had vastly underestimated the girl's power. It had taken all of seven years to mend the damage she had done. He eventually accepted the outcome, realizing that she had been a merely child at the time, unaccountable for her actions, and that the stakes had been high.
There had been no question as to whether she would refuse him in the end; there could be no other end to the game. Once he had realized the rate of her progression through the Labyrinth and her ability to gain loyal friends and allies along the way, he had known she would reach the castle despite his repeated attempts to thwart her. Sarah had been focused from the beginning, determined to save her brother. Jareth had known that.
From the moment he saw her, he had known she possessed incredible strength. Her defiant eyes projected it to the world. He had not, however, believed at first that it rivaled his own. He had expected she would challenge him to get her baby brother back, but never considered the possibility that she would succeed in defeating his Labyrinth. It was inconceivable. Nevertheless, it had happened. His confidence had been shaken at that, alone. But he could never have expected the extent of the havoc she had wreaked upon his world, and his heart.
It was completely unacceptable for him to develop affections for a mortal, especially a mere adolescent who had come to him because of selfishly wishing away a defenseless infant. It was unthinkable. But something about this girl had entranced him. No one had ever defeated him before, winning back a child. And such a defeat it had been.
And now here he was, desperately attempting to protect the very one that had brought him to his knees. It was a position he has sworn he would never be again, yet here he was. She had made him weak. Once again he had foolishly allowed himself to become vulnerable.
He had never expected to see her again, but somehow she had called him to her. Even he could not identify the nature of her summons, but it had come swiftly and with resounding power. He had sensed her will, a demanding echo in his mind, and it had drawn him to her instantaneously.
He attempted to stifle a vague notion of hope. Perhaps she had desired to see him. Perhaps, after all this time, she had meant to call upon him. The very thought tortured and tantalized him. But the girl had always had high expectation of him. He felt thankful that he had been watching her, that she had called him. He considered once again the situation laid before him. He would heal her. Then he would test her.
Laying Sarah's limp body down on the sheets, Jareth turned to attend to her wounds. Leaning over her, he tenderly placed his hands upon her, summoning the power within him.
***************************************************
Sarah's eyes fluttered open and closed. Seeing, but not quite registering images. She was aware that the room was cold, but didn't feel the chill. There was a sensation of warmth spreading through her body, obscuring the residual memories of pain and confusion. Her fingers tingled with it.
There was a presence in the room, something alien. Something was wrong.
Her mind cried out to her, pleading with her, urging her to react defensively. A blurry figure hovered above her. She had been attacked. She could recall the paralyzing fear but she perceived no threat. Instead, she felt safe. There were gloved hands touching her gently, protectively, one on her right forearm, the other resting lightly at her temple. It was a sensation she recalled.
"Sarah." The presence spoke, coldly. The difference between the gentle touch and the harsh tone a glaring contradiction. The sharp accent, the air of arrogance, were unmistakable. The sound of the voice from her dream shocked her, bringing forth startling, unwelcome revelations. Her mind reeled.
No. No, not possible. Her green eyes flew open, alight with shock and fear, blinking furiously as the room came into focus. Two clear, mismatched eyes gazed down upon her, filled with mocking curiosity.
A name was suddenly leaving her mouth. One she had banished from her conscious mind, putting up defensive walls of steel around those monstrous memories. What had once been obediently forgotten was suddenly brought to life as her protective iron curtain came tumbling down around her. Her nightmare had come back with a vengeance, and was it leaning over her.
"No!" She cried out as her alarmed thoughts caused her to stiffen, desperately attempting to throw herself up into a sitting position. The strong hands tightened abruptly, restraining her, pinning her on the bed underneath him. Panic seized her as she stifled the instinct to scream for help. She spoke again, stuttering, trying to utter words that escaped her, the phrase that would destroy the vision.
"You. You... have..." The elegant face above her transformed instantly into a mask of detached malice.
Still twisting and squirming in his grasp, she wracked her mind frantically searching for the rest of them, the right words. But the room tilted and swam. The nightmarish image blurred as the world descended into blackness, as Sarah's head fell limp onto her pillow.
Jareth started, fearful of her sudden collapse. He bent over and smoothed her hair again, self-consciously. Abruptly he pulled his hand away, suddenly furious with himself and with her. She hadn't wanted him, this much had been painfully revealed from the terrified expression on her face. How irrational he had been. How idiotic of him to believe she had called him to her. And then a sickening feeling, the ultimate anguish, overwhelmed him. She had rejected him again. He had been a fool.
His dispassionate mask returned immediately, along with the coldness. He could not give in to his feelings for her, could not allow his weakness to make him vulnerable once again. Jareth released her with irritated reluctance and stood. He sneered. All the warmth, all the affection he had held for the girl swiftly leaving him. No longer did he bother to control his seething disgust at Sarah's pathetic display of weakness. It was so unlike his Sarah, this fainting foolishness. He felt a peculiar sense of disappointment at being denied the thrill of such a confrontation. Their reunion had proven decidedly unrewarding.
He grinned wickedly. The silly mortal had tried so desperately to use the words. She couldn't even remember them. That potent phrase that had marked his lowest moment imaginable, his greatest pain, and she couldn't even recall it. What else had the girl forgotten?
How amusing. He could use this to his advantage. He could cause her to remember everything. All it would take would be a few purposefully chosen reminders, strategically placed. He would bring her fragile world crashing down around her. She would be easily broken.
Poor pathetic child, he thought. It would be a bittersweet victory. She was so obviously weak, her confidence deteriorating. He had seen it in her eyes. Sarah was balancing precariously, dangerously close to losing that last degree of faith, and he knew another push would send her over the edge. But still that infuriating defiance still remained intact. She had tried to banish him, believing herself to have the power. She was as rebellious as ever. And as captivating.
Enough. There was little point in allowing himself to be become displeased. This was just the beginning. She was alive, and would certainly remember this night, he would make sure of that. And now she owed him a debt and the game would resume.
"Foolish girl, there is little use fighting the inevitable." He chuckled maliciously and vanished.
***************************************************
Sarah blinked, suddenly aware of bright, agonizing light filling the room. She turned over, sleep still clinging to her, when suddenly her mind leapt awake and she was frantic. What time was it? Her paper! She had her last class. Her final exam. She jumped out of bed at looked immediately at the clock at her bedside. Red numbers flashed 10:53. She cried out frantically in her mind, falling back onto the bed. She had overslept, completely missed her nine o'clock class.
"Noooo!" She whined. But how? She must have forgotten to set her alarm when she got back, but she couldn't remember getting back. The last thing she remembered was leaving the library. Her head ached dully. What had happened? She wracked her mind, desperately trying to remember what had taken place. Assessing the situation, Sarah looked around her room, trying to think of the events of the night before. She saw that she was still dressed, her clothes wrinkled from the fitful night's sleep she must have had. Her bed was still made. She hadn't even bothered to pull down the covers. It was all too strange for her to contemplate.
Her situation hit her painfully. What am I going to do? I didn't finish my paper. Sarah thought despairingly. Defeat setting in, she began to sob, crying frustrated tears into her hands. How could this have happened? She stood, wiping away her tears. She'd already missed her class. She'd just have to fix it. Her last exam wasn't until six o'clock. She had time to spare. She'd have to go talk to her professor immediately. He would have to understand, but she was unsure what she would tell him. She couldn't even understand the circumstances in which she found herself.
She stood, walking toward her dorm room door, grabbing her towel and shower things on the way. She had to get clean and dressed properly, first. Her mind still searching madly for explanations, she reached for the doorknob and stopped suddenly. Shocked, Sarah stared horrified at her own reflection in the mirror. Her face dropped and her eyes widened, alarm causing her to cry out.
Oh God. She was covered in dried blood. Its rusty shade colored the side of her face and neck and was crusted in the hair at her temple. Her hands flew to her head as she dropped the things she carried, running over her temple and down the side of her head, feeling for a hidden wound. After a few frantic moments, finding nothing, she began to calm. There was nothing there and she didn't feel any pain. There was no explanation for it. How? Where did the blood come from? What had happened to her? Had she been in a fight? Hit her head? What happened to me!?
Sarah took her towel from the floor where she had dropped it and frantically attempted to wipe away the dried blood. Shower. I have to shower. Now. Throwing the towel over her head, she peeked out her door, checking that there was no one standing in the hall that might see her. They would have questions, questions she couldn't answer. She crept out of her room, closing the door silently behind her, hoping to attract the least amount of attention. Rushing to the bathroom, she snuck in and retreated behind the nearest shower curtain. Breathing deeply, she put down her things and leaned against the tiled wall. The bathroom smelled unpleasantly like stale bleach.
Sarah was trying to calm her frenzied mind, trying to reassure herself, when she heard voices.
"Sheryl, did you hear what happened?"
"Oh my God, yeah. Can you believe it?"
"No, it's insane. I always thought this place was safe, you know? Do they know who it was?"
"That's the weirdest thing. He fit the description of someone the police were looking for."
"Are you serious!?"
"Yeah. One of Cara friends found him. She said it was terrible... I can't believe it."
"Yeah, my parents are gonna freak." Then a blow dryer came on, drowning out the rest of the conversation.
Sarah slumped down the cold bathroom wall. Panic consumed as her memories came flooding back. She was experiencing with fractured glimpses the attack the night before. The walk back to her dorm, her seemingly irrational fear she had felt, and the sudden sensation of being struck and feeling herself falling to the walkway. She started to shake, a sob rising as the back of her throat tightened. It had been her; the man had been after her.
And then she remembered the rest. Waking, disoriented, in her room. Terror flowed through her as she saw those haunting, malicious eyes staring down at her. Her paralyzing horror at seeing the object of her past nightmares made manifest. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real. She crawled across the damp tile floor into the shower stall, suppressing the urge to vomit, and reached up to turn on the water as far as it would go. She prayed the falling water would smother the sound of her crying, would wash away her memories. She curled into a ball on the cold tiles, still clothed, desperately praying for her mind to shut down and block out the images that assaulted her.
"No..." She cried into her hands, stifling her sobs, trying to regain self control. She had made it go away. These things couldn't hurt her now. She had erased them. She was beyond them. "It's not..."
She halted, stunned at what she had almost said. "Fair," her inner voice finished, reminding her of the words spoken in a time so far away from the present, in another world, by girl who had was a stranger to who she was today. She shuddered as she heard her own voice running the line, remembering the exchange that had replayed itself in her mind; the voice in her head that responded made her recoil. "You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is." She cringed at the memory.
The burning water battered her as she shrunk into herself, stilling the fear that reached up to possess her. She had sworn that she would never allow herself to be overtaken by those memories again. Not memories, she chastised herself, nightmares. Hellish concoctions of a fantasy-laden mind. But she couldn't deny it any longer. Her delusions had been shattered.
It was real. She had been there. The Labyrinth. Images crept into her mind's eye, leering goblins and the figure of a man shrouded in darkness. Piercing mismatched eyes projecting an unparalleled cruelty flashed in her memory.
"Sarah, don't defy me!" Her breath caught in her throat, as she stifled a cry. Not this, not now. She could not afford a resurgence of that fear, that uncertainty.
No! I won't let it happen. I won't be a victim... I won't.
Her life had changed dramatically after her experiences underground. After that final confrontation when he had tried to tempt her. She had succeeded in suppressing the memories, locking them away for so long, only for them to emerge from the darkened corners of her mind now, when she least expected them and when she was the least prepared to fight.
Her friends had been a comfort for a time, allowing her to skirt the tenuous line between her residual fantasy life and her reality. Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus had proven true, coming to her in times of extreme suffering and joy – allowing her to indulge for a time. But they always had to leave her, had to return to their world from which she was excluded. The Underground.
When she thought of how she had stopped calling on them, how she had abandoned her friends, a seething guilt began to surface. She had packed away her books and toys shortly after that night she had returned, striving for that real world that continued to elude her. Convincing herself that her time there had been a dream was a convenient way to escape the sway it still held over her. Panic threatened, bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down. Willing her strength to beat down the emotions that rose within her. She would not be overtaken by these fantasies, she would not submit to the influence they still held over her.
"You have no power over me..." Her mind reminded her, echoing her own youthful voice saying the words. She had believed that at the time. She had willed it with all her being, praying the words that came to her would break the illusion, would free her and her brother from that terrible place, would take them from the danger in which she had put them. And it had worked, for a time. A short time, unfortunately, for she had felt those bittersweet feelings working their way back into her mind.
She had considered wishing to return with her friends, to re-enter that world of dreams. But that could never be. Because he was there, the malicious overlord of the Labyrinth, always lurking there, just beyond her dreams. His cold, hard stare. His cruel tone lashing into her. She had thought for a time that she had destroyed him with her defeat, crippling him with her words. She knew, however, that her enemy, the Goblin King, had retained his control over his kingdom. Her friends had told her as much with their silence whenever she inquired as to the state of their world.
She remembered Hoggle avoiding her gaze one particular night when she had called him to her. Venturing to inquire about the state of the Underground she had hesitantly asked him of the King, hoping and yet fearing her friend's response. His eyes had become dark and unreadable. "Doesn't matter," he had muttered, "things change, and they don't." His vague response led her to believe that he was intentionally evading the true answer to her question. Her intentions in doing this, however, she could not ascertain. After that he became withdrawn, muttering unhappily under his breath and deflecting any further attempt to ask his questions.
Now the Goblin King had reentered her life, crushing her illusion of security completely. Why had he come back? To finish what he began so long ago? To torment her? Hurt her?
Sarah cradled her head in her hands, the water burning her, soaking her clothes and hair. Steam rose around her like a veil. The words, she realized, she hadn't remembered them last night. She had tried, but failed. She hadn't been able to wish him away from her. He could still reach her. He could still reach Toby. She was paralyzed with fear. They were in danger again and it was all her fault. She had to go home, she had to protect her brother. She had to go home.
Standard Disclaimer: I still don't own it. None of it. I'm a poor, pathetic college student with a dream. Hell, Jareth won't even answer me when I try to call him. How's that for sad? Give a girl a break. Please?
***************************************************
Jareth materialized in Sarah's dorm room, her lifeless body still hanging in his arms. The room's cold, bare walls created a distinctly institutional feel. A simple desk and chest of drawers were the only items that filled the space. There was only one decoration that he could see, a framed picture of Sarah and a young boy, who he could only assume was her brother. The child had grown much older.
The Goblin King felt a acute sense of dismay. This bleak room, completely devoid of all warmth and personality, was where his Sarah lived. He hadn't been aware. Bitter resentment had prevented him from looking in on her since the night she had defeated him. The night on which she had called her friends to her to celebrate her victory. She had not called him to her on that night. Of course not. Why would she ever wish to see the villain that had stolen her brother, the King she had vanquished?
So Jareth had disregarded her very existence, trying desperately to erase the lingering memories of the girl and her time in his realm, refusing to satisfy the curiosity that blazed inside him. His bruised pride had refused to allow such petty indulgences. But over time that anger had faded.
She had denied him three times, rejecting his generous offer of her every fantasy made reality. The King had vastly underestimated the girl's power. It had taken all of seven years to mend the damage she had done. He eventually accepted the outcome, realizing that she had been a merely child at the time, unaccountable for her actions, and that the stakes had been high.
There had been no question as to whether she would refuse him in the end; there could be no other end to the game. Once he had realized the rate of her progression through the Labyrinth and her ability to gain loyal friends and allies along the way, he had known she would reach the castle despite his repeated attempts to thwart her. Sarah had been focused from the beginning, determined to save her brother. Jareth had known that.
From the moment he saw her, he had known she possessed incredible strength. Her defiant eyes projected it to the world. He had not, however, believed at first that it rivaled his own. He had expected she would challenge him to get her baby brother back, but never considered the possibility that she would succeed in defeating his Labyrinth. It was inconceivable. Nevertheless, it had happened. His confidence had been shaken at that, alone. But he could never have expected the extent of the havoc she had wreaked upon his world, and his heart.
It was completely unacceptable for him to develop affections for a mortal, especially a mere adolescent who had come to him because of selfishly wishing away a defenseless infant. It was unthinkable. But something about this girl had entranced him. No one had ever defeated him before, winning back a child. And such a defeat it had been.
And now here he was, desperately attempting to protect the very one that had brought him to his knees. It was a position he has sworn he would never be again, yet here he was. She had made him weak. Once again he had foolishly allowed himself to become vulnerable.
He had never expected to see her again, but somehow she had called him to her. Even he could not identify the nature of her summons, but it had come swiftly and with resounding power. He had sensed her will, a demanding echo in his mind, and it had drawn him to her instantaneously.
He attempted to stifle a vague notion of hope. Perhaps she had desired to see him. Perhaps, after all this time, she had meant to call upon him. The very thought tortured and tantalized him. But the girl had always had high expectation of him. He felt thankful that he had been watching her, that she had called him. He considered once again the situation laid before him. He would heal her. Then he would test her.
Laying Sarah's limp body down on the sheets, Jareth turned to attend to her wounds. Leaning over her, he tenderly placed his hands upon her, summoning the power within him.
***************************************************
Sarah's eyes fluttered open and closed. Seeing, but not quite registering images. She was aware that the room was cold, but didn't feel the chill. There was a sensation of warmth spreading through her body, obscuring the residual memories of pain and confusion. Her fingers tingled with it.
There was a presence in the room, something alien. Something was wrong.
Her mind cried out to her, pleading with her, urging her to react defensively. A blurry figure hovered above her. She had been attacked. She could recall the paralyzing fear but she perceived no threat. Instead, she felt safe. There were gloved hands touching her gently, protectively, one on her right forearm, the other resting lightly at her temple. It was a sensation she recalled.
"Sarah." The presence spoke, coldly. The difference between the gentle touch and the harsh tone a glaring contradiction. The sharp accent, the air of arrogance, were unmistakable. The sound of the voice from her dream shocked her, bringing forth startling, unwelcome revelations. Her mind reeled.
No. No, not possible. Her green eyes flew open, alight with shock and fear, blinking furiously as the room came into focus. Two clear, mismatched eyes gazed down upon her, filled with mocking curiosity.
A name was suddenly leaving her mouth. One she had banished from her conscious mind, putting up defensive walls of steel around those monstrous memories. What had once been obediently forgotten was suddenly brought to life as her protective iron curtain came tumbling down around her. Her nightmare had come back with a vengeance, and was it leaning over her.
"No!" She cried out as her alarmed thoughts caused her to stiffen, desperately attempting to throw herself up into a sitting position. The strong hands tightened abruptly, restraining her, pinning her on the bed underneath him. Panic seized her as she stifled the instinct to scream for help. She spoke again, stuttering, trying to utter words that escaped her, the phrase that would destroy the vision.
"You. You... have..." The elegant face above her transformed instantly into a mask of detached malice.
Still twisting and squirming in his grasp, she wracked her mind frantically searching for the rest of them, the right words. But the room tilted and swam. The nightmarish image blurred as the world descended into blackness, as Sarah's head fell limp onto her pillow.
Jareth started, fearful of her sudden collapse. He bent over and smoothed her hair again, self-consciously. Abruptly he pulled his hand away, suddenly furious with himself and with her. She hadn't wanted him, this much had been painfully revealed from the terrified expression on her face. How irrational he had been. How idiotic of him to believe she had called him to her. And then a sickening feeling, the ultimate anguish, overwhelmed him. She had rejected him again. He had been a fool.
His dispassionate mask returned immediately, along with the coldness. He could not give in to his feelings for her, could not allow his weakness to make him vulnerable once again. Jareth released her with irritated reluctance and stood. He sneered. All the warmth, all the affection he had held for the girl swiftly leaving him. No longer did he bother to control his seething disgust at Sarah's pathetic display of weakness. It was so unlike his Sarah, this fainting foolishness. He felt a peculiar sense of disappointment at being denied the thrill of such a confrontation. Their reunion had proven decidedly unrewarding.
He grinned wickedly. The silly mortal had tried so desperately to use the words. She couldn't even remember them. That potent phrase that had marked his lowest moment imaginable, his greatest pain, and she couldn't even recall it. What else had the girl forgotten?
How amusing. He could use this to his advantage. He could cause her to remember everything. All it would take would be a few purposefully chosen reminders, strategically placed. He would bring her fragile world crashing down around her. She would be easily broken.
Poor pathetic child, he thought. It would be a bittersweet victory. She was so obviously weak, her confidence deteriorating. He had seen it in her eyes. Sarah was balancing precariously, dangerously close to losing that last degree of faith, and he knew another push would send her over the edge. But still that infuriating defiance still remained intact. She had tried to banish him, believing herself to have the power. She was as rebellious as ever. And as captivating.
Enough. There was little point in allowing himself to be become displeased. This was just the beginning. She was alive, and would certainly remember this night, he would make sure of that. And now she owed him a debt and the game would resume.
"Foolish girl, there is little use fighting the inevitable." He chuckled maliciously and vanished.
***************************************************
Sarah blinked, suddenly aware of bright, agonizing light filling the room. She turned over, sleep still clinging to her, when suddenly her mind leapt awake and she was frantic. What time was it? Her paper! She had her last class. Her final exam. She jumped out of bed at looked immediately at the clock at her bedside. Red numbers flashed 10:53. She cried out frantically in her mind, falling back onto the bed. She had overslept, completely missed her nine o'clock class.
"Noooo!" She whined. But how? She must have forgotten to set her alarm when she got back, but she couldn't remember getting back. The last thing she remembered was leaving the library. Her head ached dully. What had happened? She wracked her mind, desperately trying to remember what had taken place. Assessing the situation, Sarah looked around her room, trying to think of the events of the night before. She saw that she was still dressed, her clothes wrinkled from the fitful night's sleep she must have had. Her bed was still made. She hadn't even bothered to pull down the covers. It was all too strange for her to contemplate.
Her situation hit her painfully. What am I going to do? I didn't finish my paper. Sarah thought despairingly. Defeat setting in, she began to sob, crying frustrated tears into her hands. How could this have happened? She stood, wiping away her tears. She'd already missed her class. She'd just have to fix it. Her last exam wasn't until six o'clock. She had time to spare. She'd have to go talk to her professor immediately. He would have to understand, but she was unsure what she would tell him. She couldn't even understand the circumstances in which she found herself.
She stood, walking toward her dorm room door, grabbing her towel and shower things on the way. She had to get clean and dressed properly, first. Her mind still searching madly for explanations, she reached for the doorknob and stopped suddenly. Shocked, Sarah stared horrified at her own reflection in the mirror. Her face dropped and her eyes widened, alarm causing her to cry out.
Oh God. She was covered in dried blood. Its rusty shade colored the side of her face and neck and was crusted in the hair at her temple. Her hands flew to her head as she dropped the things she carried, running over her temple and down the side of her head, feeling for a hidden wound. After a few frantic moments, finding nothing, she began to calm. There was nothing there and she didn't feel any pain. There was no explanation for it. How? Where did the blood come from? What had happened to her? Had she been in a fight? Hit her head? What happened to me!?
Sarah took her towel from the floor where she had dropped it and frantically attempted to wipe away the dried blood. Shower. I have to shower. Now. Throwing the towel over her head, she peeked out her door, checking that there was no one standing in the hall that might see her. They would have questions, questions she couldn't answer. She crept out of her room, closing the door silently behind her, hoping to attract the least amount of attention. Rushing to the bathroom, she snuck in and retreated behind the nearest shower curtain. Breathing deeply, she put down her things and leaned against the tiled wall. The bathroom smelled unpleasantly like stale bleach.
Sarah was trying to calm her frenzied mind, trying to reassure herself, when she heard voices.
"Sheryl, did you hear what happened?"
"Oh my God, yeah. Can you believe it?"
"No, it's insane. I always thought this place was safe, you know? Do they know who it was?"
"That's the weirdest thing. He fit the description of someone the police were looking for."
"Are you serious!?"
"Yeah. One of Cara friends found him. She said it was terrible... I can't believe it."
"Yeah, my parents are gonna freak." Then a blow dryer came on, drowning out the rest of the conversation.
Sarah slumped down the cold bathroom wall. Panic consumed as her memories came flooding back. She was experiencing with fractured glimpses the attack the night before. The walk back to her dorm, her seemingly irrational fear she had felt, and the sudden sensation of being struck and feeling herself falling to the walkway. She started to shake, a sob rising as the back of her throat tightened. It had been her; the man had been after her.
And then she remembered the rest. Waking, disoriented, in her room. Terror flowed through her as she saw those haunting, malicious eyes staring down at her. Her paralyzing horror at seeing the object of her past nightmares made manifest. It wasn't real. It couldn't have been real. She crawled across the damp tile floor into the shower stall, suppressing the urge to vomit, and reached up to turn on the water as far as it would go. She prayed the falling water would smother the sound of her crying, would wash away her memories. She curled into a ball on the cold tiles, still clothed, desperately praying for her mind to shut down and block out the images that assaulted her.
"No..." She cried into her hands, stifling her sobs, trying to regain self control. She had made it go away. These things couldn't hurt her now. She had erased them. She was beyond them. "It's not..."
She halted, stunned at what she had almost said. "Fair," her inner voice finished, reminding her of the words spoken in a time so far away from the present, in another world, by girl who had was a stranger to who she was today. She shuddered as she heard her own voice running the line, remembering the exchange that had replayed itself in her mind; the voice in her head that responded made her recoil. "You say that so often. I wonder what your basis for comparison is." She cringed at the memory.
The burning water battered her as she shrunk into herself, stilling the fear that reached up to possess her. She had sworn that she would never allow herself to be overtaken by those memories again. Not memories, she chastised herself, nightmares. Hellish concoctions of a fantasy-laden mind. But she couldn't deny it any longer. Her delusions had been shattered.
It was real. She had been there. The Labyrinth. Images crept into her mind's eye, leering goblins and the figure of a man shrouded in darkness. Piercing mismatched eyes projecting an unparalleled cruelty flashed in her memory.
"Sarah, don't defy me!" Her breath caught in her throat, as she stifled a cry. Not this, not now. She could not afford a resurgence of that fear, that uncertainty.
No! I won't let it happen. I won't be a victim... I won't.
Her life had changed dramatically after her experiences underground. After that final confrontation when he had tried to tempt her. She had succeeded in suppressing the memories, locking them away for so long, only for them to emerge from the darkened corners of her mind now, when she least expected them and when she was the least prepared to fight.
Her friends had been a comfort for a time, allowing her to skirt the tenuous line between her residual fantasy life and her reality. Hoggle, Ludo and Sir Didymus had proven true, coming to her in times of extreme suffering and joy – allowing her to indulge for a time. But they always had to leave her, had to return to their world from which she was excluded. The Underground.
When she thought of how she had stopped calling on them, how she had abandoned her friends, a seething guilt began to surface. She had packed away her books and toys shortly after that night she had returned, striving for that real world that continued to elude her. Convincing herself that her time there had been a dream was a convenient way to escape the sway it still held over her. Panic threatened, bile rose in her throat, but she forced it down. Willing her strength to beat down the emotions that rose within her. She would not be overtaken by these fantasies, she would not submit to the influence they still held over her.
"You have no power over me..." Her mind reminded her, echoing her own youthful voice saying the words. She had believed that at the time. She had willed it with all her being, praying the words that came to her would break the illusion, would free her and her brother from that terrible place, would take them from the danger in which she had put them. And it had worked, for a time. A short time, unfortunately, for she had felt those bittersweet feelings working their way back into her mind.
She had considered wishing to return with her friends, to re-enter that world of dreams. But that could never be. Because he was there, the malicious overlord of the Labyrinth, always lurking there, just beyond her dreams. His cold, hard stare. His cruel tone lashing into her. She had thought for a time that she had destroyed him with her defeat, crippling him with her words. She knew, however, that her enemy, the Goblin King, had retained his control over his kingdom. Her friends had told her as much with their silence whenever she inquired as to the state of their world.
She remembered Hoggle avoiding her gaze one particular night when she had called him to her. Venturing to inquire about the state of the Underground she had hesitantly asked him of the King, hoping and yet fearing her friend's response. His eyes had become dark and unreadable. "Doesn't matter," he had muttered, "things change, and they don't." His vague response led her to believe that he was intentionally evading the true answer to her question. Her intentions in doing this, however, she could not ascertain. After that he became withdrawn, muttering unhappily under his breath and deflecting any further attempt to ask his questions.
Now the Goblin King had reentered her life, crushing her illusion of security completely. Why had he come back? To finish what he began so long ago? To torment her? Hurt her?
Sarah cradled her head in her hands, the water burning her, soaking her clothes and hair. Steam rose around her like a veil. The words, she realized, she hadn't remembered them last night. She had tried, but failed. She hadn't been able to wish him away from her. He could still reach her. He could still reach Toby. She was paralyzed with fear. They were in danger again and it was all her fault. She had to go home, she had to protect her brother. She had to go home.