The taxi slows slightly as it shifts slightly onto the exit ramp. The turning signal clicks loudly in the utter silence. It'd been a long ride - the fare on the cab's meter reflected that. The single passenger looks out the window in apprehension. "HILLCREST," the sign reads, his new home.

Jack's pale fingers clutched the rope of the blue drawstring bag on his back tightly. He clenched his eyes shut, shifting slightly in the back seat. He fought to keep his breath steady as memories flittered behind his eyelids. He sees his sister's terrified face looking at him in sheer apprehension. Her young mind couldn't even comprehend what was happening as the crack in the ice slowly began to widen.

Jack shook his head, trying to shake the images away.

The house had to be close now. It had been nearly two hours since he'd stepped inside. The meter was nearly at $187, and the teen inwardly cringed. All he had on him was $200—in fact, that was all the money he had to his name. He was contemplating stopping the taxi right there and walking—he would have if he'd had a phone to guide him the rest of the way.

Only moments later, the cab turned onto a street with a road made of cobblestone. Quaint townhouses lined the street, and enough people were out and about to indicate this was a popular area. The cab slowed to a stop in front of a quaint-looking townhouse. Of course, by quaint he meant terrifying. Like in the Rolling Stones song, someone had painted this house black. Bricks and all.

"YOU HAVE ARRIVED." Jack startled at the jarring announcement from the GPS. The cabbie was looking at him expectantly. The meter read "189.57". Jack quickly moved to get his bag off his back. Fishing through the clothes he had thrown in it, he pulled out several wet twenty-dollar bills. He handed them over.

The wrinkled man scrunched his nose up and pocketed the two bills. Jack felt his heart drop, he'd forgotten about the tip! That was all the money he had. Obviously, he couldn't fault the cabbie for expecting a tip; it was a nearly 2-hour drive. He just hadn't thought... He hadn't been thinking clearly at all today. At the very least, he was here now. He didn't have the slightest idea of what would happen from here.

He'd just barely shut the door of the yellow taxi, and it was peeling off. The squeal of the tires accelerating rang in his ears and then, just like that, he was alone.

A man, bundled up and warm, walking his large dog, glanced over at the noise and then continued down the sidewalk. A few houses down, a couple walked up the stone staircase to their house. Large trees planted along the sidewalk shuddered as the chilled wind swept through their bare branches.

Life was just going on like normal - like nothing had happened. Like he wasn't here in some unfamiliar town, broke, with no phone and only a single change of clothes in his bag. He was only wearing a plain white T-shirt and jeans and a worn pair of sneakers. His favorite sweater was still wet and stuffed in his bag.

Before he could fall further into his thoughts, the door of the black house opened.

"Jack!" This voice was one he'd heard a thousand times before.

"L-Loki! "Man am I glad to see you."

With his bag dangling from his left hand, he nearly leaped from the sidewalk to reach the thin man at the top of the stairs. He'd never met Loki before—not in real life at least. They were gaming buddies; they'd been playing online together nearly every day for the last two years.

Overwhelmed with relief, Jack pulled him into the tightest hug he'd ever given. He'd never been happier to hear someone's voice – especially after that long, silent drive. Well, silent outside of his racing thoughts.

Loki stiffened in his grip and Jack's eyes—eyes that he didn't even realize had shut—shot open.

"I'm so sorry I didn't think-" He'd gone and made it weird with the only person he could stay with right now. He took a hurried step back and felt his stomach drop as his foot didn't connect with anything. Stairs. He was at the top of the stairs!

With one foot at the top of the stairs and one in mid-air, his arms circled frantically in the air in a comical attempt to stop himself from falling backward.

His shirt collar tightened and bunched as a dark hand shot out and pulled him back onto solid ground. Breathing heavily, Jack's blue eyes followed the grey hand up to the black button-up shirt it was attached to, and finally, he met piercing amber eyes.

The eyes were so bright against his grey skin that they seemed to glow. The man's skin was like ash. an unnatural shade of grey—some kind of macabre camouflage.

"If I let you go, are you going to embarrass yourself again?" His voice was smooth and mockingly sympathetic.

"Excuse me?" Jack spluttered.

The man released his grip on Jack's shirt collar, pausing only slightly as he noticed the thin chain attached around Jack's neck. He stepped back slightly into the doorway. A small frown appeared on his angular face. It was gone just as soon as it'd come, but that arrogant look in his eyes and the slight quirk of the almost nonexistent eyebrow remained.

"Ah, so articulate. My, my Loki, what friends you keep!" Jack glanced at Loki next to him, who was probably just as wide-eyed in this moment as himself. Loki took a quick step towards Jack and pulled Jack's pale arm towards himself, shielding Jack slightly behind his tall but thin frame.

"Uncle-" Jack's eyes widened even further than he'd believed possible.

"This is my friend Jack. You said... You said it would be OK for him to stay here? " Loki seemed hesitant, like he was seeking permission from the man in front of them instead of confirmation. His speech impediment, that ever-present hiss, was as prominent as ever. The man, Loki's uncle, glanced over Jack – what he could see of him that wasn't hidden by Loki.

"I suppose so. He can stay here for one week. " Jack's breath caught in his throat. One week, only one week?

"Uncle..." Loki's voice held a quiet warning.

"Ah yes, we had agreed on longer than that, hadn't we? I suppose since your friend has fallen on such..."

He paused, and Jack thought he must have been wracking his brain for any actual sympathetic terminology he could scrounge up. The man's house was black; his clothes were black; his hair was black. It made sense to Jack that his heart must be pitch black as well.

"-Hard times, I can let him have a month." Loki's posture relaxed slightly, and Jack felt his breath finally release from his lungs. He could make a month work. That was most definitely enough time to scrounge up some money and find a different, hopefully, more permanent place.

Without another word, Loki's uncle turned on his heel and effortlessly disappeared back into the house. The heavy door smacked shut behind him, leaving Jack and Loki standing in silence."So that's the relative you said you lived with?" Loki had always kept quiet about his home life.

"Yeah, His name is Pitch. Pitchner Black." Loki went to open the door. The only thing not black on it was the large and seemingly brass handle with a thumb latch.

"Don't mind him too much; he is really a good guy deep down." Jack snorted, giving him a look that he hoped conveyed, 'Yeah, sure, - really, really deep down." Loki hissed out a laugh.

Walking through the house, Jack was surprised at how well decorated everything was. There was not a black item in sight. Everything was old, probably all antiques, and the floors were perfectly laid wood that shone like it had just been cleaned and waxed. The house was like stepping into a period drama.

"Did you eat yet?" Loki asked as he led him up a sturdy set of wooden stairs. Jack gripped the rail of the stairs.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I ate an early dinner before I left. " The lie easily slipped off his tongue. Jack hadn't eaten since dinner last night, and he sure wasn't hungry now. His thoughts that had been swept away in the earlier excitement seemed to return with full force, and he felt himself break into a thin sweat as guilt weighed heavily back on his shoulders.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Loki motioned him to the small spiral staircase at the end of the hall.

"Right up those stairs is the attic, our guest room. There's a hatch at the top and you can lock it from the inside if you'd like. " As if sensing Jack's darkening mood, Loki stayed by the stairs and clapped Jack on the back.

"I know you've got to be tired after your long trip. Why don't you go settle in? You can find me downstairs once you're ready, and I'll be able to give you the full tour. " Loki didn't wait for his response and headed back down the stairs they'd come from.

Jack made his way to the end of the hall.

The hall wasn't very wide, but there were four doors, two on each side. The house was larger than he thought it would have been from the outside.

As Jack reached the winding stairs at the very end of the hall, that haughty voice called out to him again.

"Do try not to fall going up those stairs. I won't have another death in this house because you're too incompetent to put one foot in front of the other. "

What was wrong with this bastard? Besides apparently just existing, what had he done to earn his ire? Jack whipped around, his nostrils flaring as his face flushed with anger. Pitch was closer than Jack had thought from the sound of his voice. Pitch was tall, and Jack found himself eye to chest when he turned around. He glared up at him, hoping that every bit of anger he felt was welled up into his eyes. He was so frustrated and angry. Not just at Pitch, but God damn if there was ever a better, more deserving man to vent his tumultuous feelings on.

Pitch didn't meet his eyes. In fact, Pitch was looking at something very intently. Jack followed his gaze down and realized what it must be. Jack pulled the thin necklace that adorned his neck out from under his shirt.

"Do you have a problem with my style or something?" He was genuinely confused. The silver chain held a round charm with several different intertwining crescent moons. He wasn't even sure how Pitch had seen it, or even why he'd cared.

"Your style..." Something changed in Pitch's voice. Something came unhinged. Jack snapped his eyes back up to look at Pitch's face, whose eyes were narrowed. His face was contorted, and his lips were pulled back to reveal a snarling pair of sharp teeth. The amber was almost completely taken over by the black of his pupils. Pitch grabbed him by the neck slamming him against the nearest wall quicker than Jack could blink or even fully process what he was seeing, what was happening.

The breath was knocked out of Jack's chest. He fought to breathe again as Pitch's grip tightened even further around his neck. Ice began to fill his veins as fear took over.

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. HE COULDN'T BREATHE.

He felt the icy water filling his lungs. His hands clawed upwards trying to escape the lake's clutches. Every piece of ice he could grasp onto broke away as he flailed wildly.

His sister – oh god his sister where was she?

He thought he could hear her screaming. Oh God, he needed to get out of the water. He was so cold he couldn't move. His eyes felt like they were going to explode from the lack of oxygen.

"JACK!" His sister, Did she make it off the ice? He reached for the ice once more. One final desperate grab for safety. He reached his arm as far as possible, with his heavy, numb legs weighing him even further down into the icy depths. His numb fingertips were almost there, he almost had it-

His breath returned with full force and he felt his legs give out from under him. He expected to fall further into the waters but was unexpectedly grabbed by two firm hands.

"JACK!" Jack filtered in hard, heavy breaths. He thrashed, clawing at the hands that gripped him, and they surprisingly released him. Jack fell to his knees. He dry heaved- trying desperately to get rid of water in his lungs that just wasn't there. He could distantly hear Loki shouting.

"What the fuck, Pitch? What the fuck! "

"You sense it. I know you do." The amulet, it's one of His."

"He is not one of His. He's my friend! What have you done? "

A hand touched his neck and a hot flash of warmth spread around his neck.

"There." That dark voice hummed.

"Now it's like it never happened." Jack heard an affronted noise-one he was familiar with and heard often from Loki whenever Jack said something offensive or rude. His neck felt immediately better as the warmth subsided.

As his breathing normalized, Jack felt himself coming back to the present fully. He was here in Hillcrest. He was at Loki's house, or rather, Loki's uncle's house.

On his knees, Jack blinked several times to clear his head and looked up at the two other men. They stopped talking and looked down at him in apprehension. Well, Loki was looking at him with apprehension. He didn't understand the look Pitch was giving him.

"Take him up to his room and then come find me." We have things to discuss. Jack must have passed out for a moment because in what seemed to be the blink of an eye, Pitch was gone.

Loki started helping him up.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I thought you'd be safe here. I thought..." Loki shuddered, and it took Jack's addled brain a moment to realize that Loki was crying.

"Maybe this won't work out. I can give you some money to go back... " Jack gasped and reached out to the stair's rail to steady himself.

"Please, I don't have anywhere else to go." Jack couldn't go back. He couldn't face them. He felt like his chest was going to explode from the pressure. He gripped his chest and tried to catch his breath. He felt like crying, he felt like screaming. He'd felt such desperation twice in one day. He'd never imagined it possible that someone could feel so helpless.

Loki had gone still next to him, and he risked a glance at him. Loki's dark eyes were focused on him; they flickered between his face and the now exposed amulet against his white t-shirt.

"Go upstairs. Go to bed and… and we'll talk about this tomorrow." Loki swept off towards a room further down the hall, closer to the main stairwell.

Jack made his way up the spiral staircase and pushed the hatch open to his room. There was a bed. That's all he needed. The room was small, but there was a square window to look out of.

He sat down. The weariness from today settled deep into his bones. He opened his bag and started pulling out his few belongings. His blue sweatshirt was still wet from the lake. He'd managed to wring it somewhat before he left his home, so it was completely soaked, but staying in the bag all those hours hadn't helped it dry at all. He'd packed a change of boxers and a pair of khakis. He hadn't even packed socks.

He pulled out the only thing in the bag that he cared about. He reached for the picture of him with his sister. He'd packed his favorite one, the one where she had taken his phone and had them take a selfie. They were both grinning like total idiots.

He felt relief when his fingers grasped onto the photo, and he pulled it out.

It was ruined.

A sob caught in his throat. His sweatshirt in the bag had gotten the picture wet; the water damage made the picture nearly unrecognizable. A harsh sob escaped and he shook with emotion. Finally processing what had happened earlier today.

What had he done? He felt grief and guilt one and the same grip on his heart and he bit at his fisted hands to try and stifle his cries.

Oh god, what had he done? He'd killed his own sister.