Shadow
Chapter 3
[January 25th, 2014]
"Now, is there something new, Amity?" the older woman asked, tapping her black biro pen against the wooden edges of the clipboard. The noise in itself was enough to make Amity shiver. No, this was not a question she was willing to answer.
The girl in the seat opposite shook her head.
"I'm sure we've been over this, Amity. You can trust me, but you also have to talk to me. That's why I'm here," Doctor Phillips reminded her, bringing her glasses closer to her face. For just a moment, her eyes trailed down to the sheet of paper, miniature scrawls crawling over the page. Amity couldn't read them; not from this angle, or this distance. She did have a faint idea about the words would have said, though.
"No," Amity whispered, reluctantly. "You're here because my mother paid you." She then crossed her arms over her chest, trying her best to look the psychiatrist in the eyes as she spoke. Resilience was key.
The woman smiled bitterly. "That too, I suppose. You're a smart girl..."
"I'm thirteen."
"I know." She nodded. "What I was saying, is that a smart, thirteen-year-old girl would talk, because she would know that it would only do her good."
The words felt like honey. Too smooth. Tasted too sweet, too sticky. That woman, the one that sat right in front of her, was really a master of her craft, sly and cunning, with a silver tongue. They had to be, dealing with children, telling them precious lies that would get them to talk. Even if the youth was already thirteen. No matter the age, a human was stubborn. To get into the mind of a human required patience and the right words, praises. It was like training a cat really. Amity wondered if perhaps other children were just like her, just like cats, whenever they were around this adult.
"Silence is gold," Amity responded after a while, studying the woman's aged face. The female seemed to be frowning now, which revealed just how old she was, probably in her late thirties, although her still-perfect smile would say otherwise. The lines across her forehead, around her eyes and mouth though, they told a different story. Probably fighting the temptation to snap the neck of some people on occasion. She must have gotten stressed a lot too. It wouldn't surprise her - Amity had heard somewhere that it took years of study, far longer than for most professions, for someone to become a psychologist. Even longer if one wanted to be acknowledged and patients were money.
No matter how it was though, right now all that really mattered was escape.
"Hmm..." the noncommital hum came from Doctor Phillips. "Any particular reasons why you don't feel like sharing today?"
Why don't you tell her about the monsters...?
Why don't you admit that you're off your head?
Come on, it's not so bad. Mad Hatter's accepted it, why don't you? Madness, I mean.
"Those are for me to know and you to forget." Perhaps a little rude, in front of a medical professional with a PhD, but then again, she believed it was well-deserved. If she were to suffer one of her least favourite days in the week at the psychologist's, she wasn't going to make it easy for this person to earn her money. Besides, she already had homework. This... was more trouble than it was worth.
The 'doctor' added another note eyeing Amity's movement.
Oh, great. Now her movements were going to be assessed too? "It's normal for children who see things that others cannot - should not - to keep secrets. Understandably. But..." the psychologist moved on, in an all-too-smart-for-comfort tone.
Should not see...
Should not see...
Should not see...
Amity slowly tuned out of the conversation. She didn't care! It had been that way before and no one bothered to say anything. Why now? It was then that the air seemed to fall in temperature, feeling as chilling and clinical as a hospital room. She had been in one before. Gotten too sick and out of worry, her mother had taken her to a hospital. She'd been only three back then. That didn't mean she didn't remember the anxiety-inducing experience and the sensations that rushed through her entire body and stimulated every one of her senses. A feeling that grew more sickly, weakening and unnerving with every word said by an adult. She remembered the way that the doctors had spoken.
And like back then, her whole world seemed to tip over.
"...Amity?" A familiar voice led her out of her thoughts.
She blinked. Once. Twice. The almost-formed surroundings immediately vanished and the sickness was gone.
"S-suh-session's over," Amity remarked weakly, before standing up, ready to go. As she looked up, she could see that there were a good ten minutes left, but she couldn't care less. Shakily, she walked out, not turning around to look at the other person in the room.
"Two minutes early. Session over so soon?" her mother asked, as Amity got into the silver Audi. If only the woman showed this much interest in other areas of her life.
Amity sighed and shook her head. "No. She asked too many questions."
This time, her mother actually laughed. Laughed. There wasn't a disappointed sigh, a curse, or anything like that. She simply laughed it off. "Don't teachers ask you questions all the time?" the older female asked, as she turned around to face her daughter. With that, she started up the car. With a slight jerk, the car reversed, turning, before her mother drove off, out of the parking lot.
"They never ask me about the things that happened in my life."
It took a few minutes and several turns before her parent and guardian could answer that. "It couldn't have been that bad."
"No, it gets worse. My mother dumped me there for being too scared to go down to the basement," Amity huffed.
"And I had very good reasons why I did so. This wasn't just about spiders. You were scared of things that don't even exist, for Pete's sake!" the adult in the vehicle protested, before grumbling a little. The car stopped sharply. "How do all the idiots even get a driving license?"
Determined not to continue the previous conversation, Amity decided to answer the rhetorical question. She felt like defying the rules of literature anyway. "They just do."
"Doesn't explain why my daughter is hell-bent on claiming that there's a boogeyman in our basement. I cleared it out just months ago," her mother ignored the attempt, before uttering a light curse under her breath. As the moron in front of them finally decided to move out of the way, the journey continued mostly in silence. "By the way, we're having tacos for dinner today, Amity," she commented half-way home, although she never received a reaction. Not that she was searching for one.
.
.
.
[January 26th, 2014 - Tooth Fairy Palace]
As per usual, Toothianna was busy giving orders. Calling street names from one side of the palace to another, she was on impatient to get out into the field again the moment even rolled in. For now, however, she would have to stay confined to the palace, until her side of the hemisphere was downed in darkness and the moon would be up. Not that there was long to wait.
"Left incisor at twenty-two Crown's Street Pennsylvania, Burgess. Oh, would you look at that, a perfectly clean-"
But before she could finish complimenting the miniature canine in the palm of her right hand, a mini-fair flew up to her, chirping loudly. The wild flutter of wings caught her attention sooner though and she was already facing the fairy as she closed in.
"A memory box? Glowing, are you sure?" Toothianna inquired, receiving a quick nod.
She looked around, at the bustling fairies that were surrounding one of the pillars. Hidden within them were containers filled with teeth, one of which was deemed exceptionally intriguing by the other mini-fairies who crowded around, forming a semicircle around the jutting-out box. Surely enough, the box seemed to be glowing very faintly. Moving closer to examine the little peculiarity, she took up the shiny metal container, pulling it out of its place within the wall. Tilting her head as she looked down at the thing, she narrowed her eyes.
"That's odd."
A few tweets agreed with her, as a few tried to get a closer look too.
"It belongs to an adult," Toothianna noted after a while, no less confused than before. She shifted the container in her hands, before lightly pressing the decorative surface made up of diamond shapes. On the front of the container, a cartoon face with hazel eyes, a pale, unmarked face, narrow nose and dirty blond hair was drawn out, complete with a wide smile. This had once been a girl. Now, the only remnants of her childhood lay in this box.
As the glow brightened, Toothianna felt herself getting sucked into a vortex of bright hues, before those faded and the outlines sharpened, forming a collection of pictures from the past.
"Sarah, Sarah!" A motherly voice called out from across the field. The girl ignored it, still giggling and laughing. She was four here, looking at an invisible phantom of a creature, one only she could have seen as vividly and as accurately as she did. It stood amongst the trees, freezing the bark, with a cool smirk on its pale face.
The memories shifted then...
A five-year-old kept pestering that same spirit cheerfully. "Do it again, again!" Her hazel eyes sparkled brightly as she watched the frost clamber over the stems of grass, slowly spreading to her bare feet. She shivered lightly, giggling and squealing with joy. Her merriment was met with an equally eager chuckle from her barely visible friend.
And again...
An adorable six-year-old was messing around, clambering up trees in late November, as agile as a squirrel, despite the restricting, fuzzy sweaters that she was bundled up in. She was looking up, eyes wide in awe as she saw her friends floating in the sky, swaying lightly as the wind moved his figure. She laughed a little as the wind blew him away into a nearby tree, resulting in a crash. He slid down, calling the winds funny nicknames, before facing the girl. "Wanna fly, kiddo?"
"Uhuh..."
Then again...
"Do you ever get into trouble, Jack?" the ten-year-old version of Sarah Parker asked curiously.
The two were walking around that same forest, with the snow already covering the ground. The white-haired male next to her nodded. "Yeah... Aster always has some problem or another when it comes to my snow," he nodded.
"Oh... but snow's so fun... how can that get you into trouble?"
Jack rubbed his head nervously. "Well..."
Though by that time, Sarah had found another conversation thread to start. Her hands clasped a heavy helping of fluffy, white snow, turning it into a snowball, before she threw it at a nearby tree. "I get into trouble for having friends..." she muttered.
"Friends? But... that's not against the rules."
"I said that to mum too!" Sarah complained. "But she says I'm not supposed to be friends with you. Says I'm making it up, anyway." She threw another snowball.
"Of course you aren't," the male ruffled her head, smiling. "Well, if she gets so angry about it, why don't we keep this our little secret?" That seemed to turn the girl's frown into a smile immediately afterwards and this time she threw a snowball straight at Jack. "Hey, what was that for? I'll get you for that!"
And so it continued...
"Woah- ahh!" the girl gasped as she fell backwards, only to be caught by a pair of arms.
"Careful," a familiar voice came from behind as the male helped her stand up. She turned around to look at Jack, blushing lightly as she did.
But before the next line escaped him, the girl had already aged and was clearly around sixteen...
"Ice is a... slippery thing..." Jack commented mischievously, grinning.
"Then I'm lucky to have you," Sarah responded, turning redder. "You'll catch me before I fall, won't you?"
"Or I'll fall with you."
Sarah laughed, shaking her head. "No, that wouldn't be fair. You'd probably squash me!"
"Want to bet?" Jack asked, with a wink. Quite on purpose, he took a step back, taking her hand. With the slightest bit of movement, he pulled them into a small dance, but soon enough, both lost balance and tipped over, falling into a heap on the ice. Although luckily for Sarah, she fell second. "So, whose calling tops now?"
"N-no fair..."
"And you thought I was heavy," Jack commented, exaggerating. Sarah smacked his shoulder lightly, attempting to get up. But the ice made her slip. "Feeling clingy?"
"Well-"
However, she was cut off by a chaste kiss - one that probably neither of them had expected up until now. It lasted for just a few seconds, before the two looked at one another, smiling, red and breathless. Not long after, he aided her in getting up and she him, as the smiled shyly at each other.
But that didn't seem to last forever...
Not even a year passed, it couldn't have and sixteen-year-old Samatha was crying. She looked different now, maybe too mature for someone her age and too joyless for someone who'd met the spirit of fun. Slowly, she seemed to be forgetting, and whilst occasionally she would utter the name Jack Frost out loud, those times would grow infrequent and fade. Her belief too. Slowly but surely, before the light out of the picture was gone, the forest was no longer a part of her surroundings.
She met someone else and there the memories ended, around nine months after the incident, with someone else, other than Jack Frost to care for. Small, weak, but someone she would care for and worry for.
Toothianna was pulled back out, quite suddenly and only managed a gasp. This had been Sarah Parker. Jack Frost's true first believer. However, Jack Frost had clearly forgotten about all that. A cold took over her, as she pushed away from the container. She should have stayed ignorant, left those memories behind like every grown-up should. Instead, something had opened up those memories and may very well, very soon, be the end of all her memories.
This wasn't allowed. If she truly remembered them - not quite, the glow would be stronger then, but if she did - they might disrupt the balance. She furrowed her brow, looking at her fairies.
"Have you checked Jack's memories?"
A few of the mini-fairies nodded, with one, of violet feathers, even holding out his tooth container as evidence.
"He doesn't know about her, does he? Does it show her?"
The fairies looked at one another, then looked at her, confirming what she had already theorised was the reality. Whatever the reason, Jackson Overland Frost forgot completely about the girl that had once been a serious part of his life. As for Sarah Parker, she was in danger of remembering.
"Oh, moons!"
.
.
.
[January 27th, 2014]
"Get the hell out of my sight!" Pitch Black growled at the nightmare by his side. The equine, as reluctant as always, stuck around for just moments afterwards, before willingly vanishing, lest its master would show it out of the underground lair.
The Boogeyman wasn't going to stand this any longer. To think that Sandy had been snooping about, where only he should have been, that was bad enough. However, now there were other problems turning up. His newest believer (only believer too) was stuck with psychologist appointments, he still hadn't managed to free Onyx from Sanderson's clutches and children were less and less afraid of the classics. After all, where had the fear of rats gone? Headless horsemen, ghosts, ghouls, none of that was scary anymore. At most, children would term it "ew" and "that's disgusting". But would they rear, run away, hide in fear? Would they try and fight it? No.
Last time, there was something he could work on. There still were a few children afraid of arachnids - and there likely always would be - but the majority feared the more difficult, unpredictable fears that weren't so easy to access and not always left a great taste on the tongue. Abandonment was probably the better of the lot. Abuse, pain, cruelty, those were sharp, a little too much. And then there were those fears that made even the King of Nightmare's stomach reel and heave in disgust.
Pacing around was one of the few options still left to Pitch ever since Sandy's appearance. The moon wasn't helping either. Few clouded nights meant that it was always shining brightly and the Man in the Moon himself had a more or less clear view of the happenings on this planet. Oh, there was nothing that put Pitch on edge more! He'd just managed to clamber out of that god-forsaken hell-hole not so long ago! Only to have to deal with this?! This had been his planet even before Manny had dared set foot on it. Or perhaps, a moon on it, as it were. Whatever the case, he could blame no one else for all that grief, anger, greying hair and lankier-by-the-day figure.
Those he once had called friends were no help now either. The spirits all kept in hiding, as did the mythical creatures. Humans had all but remembered, including that liar, Jamie Bennett. And his last light? As if she would care to help. Thirteen was still technically a child's age. She wouldn't understand, but less be willing to. All the rules, all that naive morality was ingrained, encoded into her young mind and she probably had no idea about the reality.
His pupil's thinned to slits as they faced the globe. Pinpricks of gold lined the edges of the continents. Not glorious no. Not as mocking as the Guardians would have liked. But it was their fault for ignoring all those forgettable countries, full of children who would not readily believe. Less shelter than brain capacity. They knew what to hold belief in. All North could give was hollow toys. What are dreams for, with no money, not even for food? Dreams won't feed a hungry mouth, but education might just ensure that one would not starve again. Why have memories of the happy times, when they'll only drown in misery? Why happy at all, when they are but naive beliefs? He'd been there, done that, and all this was for nought. Fun? Hah. Try making it snow in Eritrea. As for hope, one could have that. But what was hope for when it came to those with tuberculosis, AIDS, HIV, pneumonia...? No. Fear worked best here. Don't let yourself get caught by rapists, drug dealers and traffickers. Don't let your chance be blown away, don't let yourself starve to death.
But how could fear be anyplace, exist anywhere, if it was constantly pushed away?
'It's their fault. They can deal with the consequences,' Pitch waved it off. So be it. They can starve, they can die, they can feel the pain and the consequences of their actions. He'd seen dead bodies litter barren grounds, he could stomach seeing some more.
"Help!"
"I'm scared!"
"Please... I'm scared."
He couldn't forget them or ignore them forever.
"Where's mother?"
"I don't like how daddy beats mommy... I want it to stop!"
"Don't take them from me!"
"I'm hungry... c-cold... will it be cold tonight? It hurts my feet, makes them sting... I don't want them to sting."
"D-don't hurt her! She's my sister! Stop, y-you're hurting her!"
He could try...
"What if someone hurt her?"
"My cat! It's gone!"
"I-I don't want to be alone, puh-puh-please... don't leave me here... I don't like the dark..."
And fail. Closing his eyes, he realised that no matter how much he tried, he would be betraying himself if he ever let himself forget.
'Why won't they leave me alone...?'
Pitch froze. He recognised that voice. It was a thought. Just a thought. Not just a thought. A very important thought. Slipping into the shadows, he disappeared to save the strongest voice. It may not have been the most severe case. It wasn't just a case, though. This was Amity.
"Heh, there you are," the mockery sounded clearly in Amity's ears.
With her back pinned right against the brick wall, she watched them cautiously, four pairs of eyes gleaming with hatred and cruelty. Their snide grins looked almost identical, as they eyed the cowering teenager standing the alleyway, clasping her folders as though her life depended on it. The rest of them were scattered across the ground, some in puddles, some luckily dry. Not for long though. Her homework would soon be blotched with the filthy water from puddles.
"Told you Geeky would be here," a second voice joined in, this one belonging to a female.
"P-please Holly, I just want to get home," Amity whispered, begging the second figure. Stepping in, the girl with the pink designer coat walked up to her former friend, almost disgusted by hearing her name being said by Amity. Only the faint outlines of the uniform were visible on her, as most was covered by the coat. Save for a deep violet and blue, striped tie and the collar of a white shirt.
"Don't please me, Ams," Holly scoffed, huffing lightly. She whipped her hair back so that Amity could clearly see the disappointment on her face. "We had an agreement, didn't we?"
She nodded meekly. "B-but I..."
"Oh, no no no no no. No buts," Holly hissed. She glared at the smaller girl, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now, where's that paper?"
Amity leaned into the wall some more, digging her fingers into the folders. She didn't want to say this. She knew what would happen. She knew their rules. "I-I... I didn't have time, I swear, I-I-I h-had..." she stammered out, "o-other things." She wouldn't say what took up so much of her time. She couldn't. If she hadn't had to do certain things, she would have had time to give her that paper two days ago.
"Really?" Another female's voice rang out. "And you didn't find time for Holly's history paper?"
Amity gulped. "I-In all fairness, I d-duh-didn't even tuh-take History."
"We had a deal Amz," Holly then looked towards the owner of the first voice, a burly boy with dirty blond curls. He was two years older than the girls and was Holly's older brother, Samuel. "I want you to get the girl to tell me what was so important to her that she forgot all about moi."
Doing as he was told, the male stalked up to Amity, pushing her hands away. As a result, the once-dry papers and folders all toppled over, falling onto the ground. Cowering in shock and fear, she looked up to Samuel, eyes large and fearful. Those had been her year's work. Those had been her pride. Her mother's pride. How would she explain those? 'Why won't they leave me alone?' she asked herself, as she dodged a hit from the boy.
"Talk, Geeky," Samuel pressed on, swiping again, this time grabbing her by the wrist.
"I-I..."
"Talk!" he pushed her to the wall.
"I-I-I..." She bit her lip, tearing up slightly. The coils of his hand tightened and a sharp pain embraced the inside of her wrist.
"Do us a favour, and talk, Parker," Molly's voice added, as she laughed. "Or I'll get Ryan to join." Ryan was taller, sleeker and stronger whilst being one year younger than Samuel. He was a combination of nasty and happy-to-please (or at least, in Holly and Molly's case) and had a definite crush on Molly. He wasn't someone that Amity wanted to anger.
Samuel forced her against the wall again, this grinning from ear to ear.
"I-I was at the psychologist!" Amity cried out, before immediately regretting it.
"Oh, yeah!" Samuel let out a smug laugh, he pulled her away from the wall, giving the girls just enough time to laugh, before pushing her into the wall again. She cried out, as she felt a hellish type of pain spread through her entire arm now starting at the wrist and ending at the shoulder. "Looks like we've got a psycho here! So, what'ya do when you're alone, Amity Hatter! Talk to bunnies, or to the moon? You killed someone yet?!"
"Maybe drove her dad crazy, that's why he left!" Holly joined.
"Probably a secret druggie," Ryan muttered from behind them, not overly impressed. He had other things in mind. Other ways to get more out of her.
"Or maybe she's one of those Schizzies," Molly jeered, meaning Schizophrenics.
Tears streamed down her face. No! She wasn't- she couldn't be- no... why were they all so...?
"Gah!" Samuel was the first to say something else except for a scathing remark. His head was tilted upward and soon enough, everyone looked. "Something's got me. Some bugger's got me! Someone threw a rock at my head!" At that, he backed away, releasing Amity.
However, it was too late for him to escape another few rocks. They were small but effectively repulsed them from the quivering girl.
Looking at one another, the gang watched as the rocks missed the girl, but hit Samuel with wicked precision. Every now and then, he would yelp and take a step back, but the rocks would follow. "What the hell! Where are they comin' from!?" the group uttered simultaneously, as they backed away.
"Witch, Amity's a witch!" Holly called out.
"Bitch!" Molly hissed at the brunette who was still trembling with her back against the wall, clutching her arm.
"Freak!" Samuel snapped.
That wasn't it though. Just as they were about to turn around, a bark alerted them all. An extremely large rottweiler stood there, black with a deep shade of red alternating through its body pattern stood in the middle of the alleyway, looking furious. It was snarling, claws digging into the ground, glaring at the group. Amity didn't even move. Nor did the others, who had turned into a shaking pile of leaves as they watched the massive dog walk up to them, growling deeply. Growling at them.
"G-guys...?" Molly stuttered.
"I'm running, Mols, feel free to join," Holly commented, with a squeal, as she rushed past the rottweiler. The rest ran off, with the rottweiler soon chasing after the group.
Meanwhile, Amity had slumped down to the ground, covering her face with her hands. She didn't - couldn't - care less about the state of her clothes, or her skin, what had been done was done. But she did care about her arm. About what her mother would say. She was worried that she would have to tell. She was worried about what they would be gossiping about at school tomorrow. Undoubtedly, the hot topic would be about her secret side, that of a witch, a psycho and who knew what else they may decide to add.