LAST CHAPTER: Jack steals an apple and an old 'friend' pays a visit.
TRIGGERS: Certain textures are explained that may cause tension within any neurodivergent readers like myself. Textures: smooth wood, satin. Eating, Synopsis at the end.
It's dark and cold; creeping up my skin and wiggling itself into my brain, making a home in my mind; welcoming itself to my secrets. The faint glow of the lantern reveals only a foot or two at a time. The walls are made of wet stone, dripping into puddles on the ground. It smells of death; musty, pungent, sweet.
I try not to inhale through my mouth, only taking small breaths through my nose covered in the thick fabric of my cloak. Jane's blood, I know, is only a few inches from my face. I try to ignore it, focusing on the feeling of Kozmotis' dead hand holding mine; leading me further into the darkness of his home.
"I thought," I gag. I wrench my hand from his harsh grip and lean on a wall. But that only makes it worse. "I thought... you said you have shelter."
I can't breathe. The humid air feels nonexistent in my lungs and I move to lean against my staff. His smug chortle echoes through the tunnel.
"Don't be so ungrateful." I jump. I thought he was much further from me. But now that I try, I can make out the faint sheen of his gray face against the pitch darkness of everything surrounding us.
"I'm not... I'm not ungrateful," I stand straight, hugging my staff closer to me. "I'm just-I'm just confused."
The silence stings my ears and for a moment I think he left; which, for some reason, scares me more than his presence. Then I feel his hand take mine, and he leads me through the darkness again.
"This is not said shelter, Frost. Do not be so ridiculous. It is merely the way to my humble abode."
I'm not being ridiculous. I want to speak up, but the thought of the air making its way into my mouth and settling itself on my gums nauseates me. We walk in silence for what feels like hours and I busy myself with lighting the tunnel with my frost.
And then we emerge from the tunnels. It's beautiful; luxury, even. A large silver chandelier hangs from the grand ceiling. A couch made of mahogany and wool sits in the middle of the oversized room. It's grand, yes... but quite ugly.
...Maybe I am a little ridiculous.
He showed me around his not so "humble" abode before insisting I sit in the dining room whilst he makes food; like some domestic scene in a romantic novel. The mahogany is stiff and the texture is smooth; too smooth for my liking. I covered the chair in my cloak a few minutes ago, a sort of cushion I made for myself.
I worry, like always, but this worry is a niggling worm that aches my chest and weighs my mind. I sigh and slump against the table, tapping my hand against the surface. I can see my reflection in the pristine wood and I stare into that man's eyes with only a small inkling of recognition.
"Dinner is served!" Kozmotis bursts into the room with plates of food. His English accent echoes and I jump.
I watch as he places the food on the table, proceeding to light a candle in the middle of the table and sitting across from me. I look at the food and then look up at him. The flame dances with the shadows and his eyes are even more intense than before.
"Are you not going to eat, Frost?"
A few moments pass and I can only hear the scrape of silverware against the plate. Each time, a shiver scurries up my spine and my teeth grind. I take a few bites of the food. But I can't let that wiggling worm of worry go. I set down the silverware and stare at the plate. My ears ring with silence and I look up at Kozmotis.
"What are your intentions, Pitch?"
He stares at me in what looks like shock and impatience. His orange eyes burst with a thousand unsaid words as he tosses his fork onto his plate and leans back in his seat.
"I have already told you this," he sighs and massages his eyebrows. "I just need your frost."
I raise an eyebrow.
"And my ice."
"Yes, and your ice." he looks up at me. "Are we done?"
"I just-"
"Eat your food before it gets cold. I didn't slave away for hours just for you to be an ungrateful brat." he spits.
I sit in shocked silence, unable to move. He glares at me and my nerves shock with a sudden cold. I look down and the table is frosted. I go to speak, to explain, to defend myself; anything. But he stands abruptly and the heavy chair scrapes against the expensive floor.
His dark aura stands out against the yellow-orange wall behind him. He seems to tower over me, even from across the table, and I freeze.
"Do you have any idea how much this table is worth?" I just sit in silence, expecting him to tell me. He raises his eyebrows and taps his fingers on the thick wood.
"Uh... I-"
"No, that is what I thought," he stands up straight, towering over me from across the room. "This was a gift from someone very important. He is no longer around."
I go to apologize but he just holds up his hand.
"Save it. You do not have the capacity to understand."
And then he just leaves the room in angered silence.
I look down at the thick frost that branched halfway across the table, slowly melting near the candle. I trace the fern-like patterns with my fingernail and ignore the guilt bubbling in my stomach. It wasn't my fault. I was frightened, it could happen to anyone.
Except it couldn't.
I shake my head and take a few bites of the food. Despite the amazing scent and presentation, it tastes bland. My constantly complaining stomach is now silent, pushing away any food I offer it. I slump back in defeat before rising to my feet and going to find Kozmotis.
It only takes a few minutes. I find him standing in the kitchen sipping a glass of what I hope to be red wine.
"I-I'm sorry, Kozmotis," I fiddle with the hem of my shirt. "It... it just-I didn't mean to. I was frightened-"
"Frightened!?" I flinch at the sudden noise. He seems to notice, looking me up and down with furrowed eyebrows.
"Hm. Well, I am sorry for frightening you, Jack." he sets down the glass and begins to walk over. I tense up and feel the cold travel from my heart to my arms. I close my eyes and urge it to stop; to go back to my heart. I jump when I feel his gray hands on my shoulders.
"I may have a... temper problem," I open my eyes to look into his. "You know this."
I nod.
"I will work on it. Give me some time, Frost. It has been a long while since someone has been in my space; I am not used to another presence in my home."
I nod again.
"I am not a monster." he adds.
Monster.
"I know." I whisper.
"And neither are you."
I hesitate, but I nod.
"I... I'm not... hungry anymore," I say under my breath. "I'm sorry."
"That is quite alright, Jack. It is overwhelming going from nothing to," he pauses and looks around with a smug smile. "Well, this."
I just stare at him.
"Right, let's show you to your room."
He leads me through the dining room and into the lounge. The change of lighting is overwhelming and I look down at my feet, doing my best to follow his nearly silent footsteps. My shoulder clips on something and I look up. There are stairs in front of me and the grand wooden railing spirals along them. I reach out and run my hand over it. The smooth feeling sends a shock up my arm and I pull back from it, repulsed.
Kozmotis stands a few steps up, staring at me with a slight tilt to his head. He just turns and silently continues up the stairs; graceful, melting into the wooden steps like a shadow. I push away the thought and follow him up. He opens the last door on the left and walks in.
A small bed sits in the corner of the small room. The only window is less than two feet wide and resides at the top of the stone wall, above the bed, with steel bars covering the glass and little to no natural light can make its way into the room. A small rug lays on the middle of the floor and a mere lamp makes its home in the corner.
The orange light of the lamp lights up one half of the room and the other is shroud in darkness.
I stand in the doorway, looking around. Kozmotis stands behind me, waiting patiently for me to respond. I walk into the room, spinning to take in the full extent of the interior. It's dark, wet, and cold. It's so different from my alley and I would have expected myself to wonder why the room looks so different from the rest of the house, but all I can focus on is the bed.
A bed. Not a pile of sand, not a rough brick wall, not an abandoned carriage with mice to keep me company; but a bed. Thin, satin blankets and sheets lay upon the mattress and I have to fight the urge to gag at the thought of it. I turn to Kozmotis and manage a smile. I ignore the look of relief that flashes in his eyes.
"You like it, I assume?"
I nod.
"I do... have a request. If-If that's okay."
He looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
"I-Well I... can't really... touch satin without-" I look down. "without throwing up-or-or my teeth hurting, or-"
"Relax, Frost," his tone is uncharacteristically soothing. "I will change your sheets for you. Wool?"
I smile and nod. He returns a small smile and begins to walk away.
"Thank you." I don't know if he heard me.
There are a lot of little timeskips, I know. This is just a filler. I wasn't sure what should happen in this chapter but I was having anxiety and wanted to write.
SYNOPSIS: Pitch leads Jack through a dark tunnel to his home. His house is very luxurious, very rich. He makes Jack food but they have a little conflict and Jack is no longer hungry. He shows Jack to his room, which isn't even that much of a room.
Stay safe, thank you for reading. :)