Survival

Chapter 4: Second Nightmare

Dark. Silence. Cramped. He was stuck on his back in a confined space. It felt rough like stone. 'What on Earth? Where am I?' His head was throbbing, everything ached. He felt around tentatively with his hands. The space was so tight he could not move his legs or shoulders, just a little leeway for his elbows. He pressed up and felt wooden planks. 'A floor. I'm stuck under someone's floor.' His breathing quickened as he heard a door creak open and heavy boots strike along the floor above him. Someone was there! "Help! Someone, please get me out of here!"

The boots paused for a moment then approached the section above Jack. The man must have been carrying a torch because beams of light seeped through the cracks between the floor boards allowing Jack to see dust dancing all around him. The man above knelt down and gave the trap door a mighty heave. Blinded by the light, Jack looked into his savior's face. It only increased his terror. Instead of the kind, concerned face of a rescuer, Jack saw a burly drunkard with blood shot eyes staring in pure rage and pointing at him with the flaming torch.

"Not. Another. Word." His voice was a harsh whisper. "Unless you fancy playing with fire?"

Jack shook his head fiercely still gazing into the mad man's eyes. "No, sir." Who was this man? How the heck did he get into this situation? And more importantly, how is he supposed to get out unscathed?

"Good. One more peep and we will be having fun tonight."

Gulping, Jack could just nod mutely. This man seemed slightly familiar. From where though? He was sure he was not a father of one of the children he gave snow days to; nor did he look like any of the homeless people he remembered. Suddenly it struck him: 'It's a memory again.' This was the man that had made Jack's life a living hell for years; the man his mother had married, his and Pippa's father. The man that changed for the worse and took it out on the rest of them in the name of "fun."

The trap door swung shut with a mighty shower of dust and dirt showering down on Jack. He had to suppress his coughs or that man would swoop back and pounce on him. Solitary confinement. That's what this was. He had done something to upset his father, no, he did not deserve that title, that beast. He could not suppress it any longer. His cough had to escape. He had no room to maneuver to try and cover with anything but his hands. A lung rattling cough reverberated through his rib cage. 'That's right, I was always getting sick. We all were.' No wonder he felt so achy, more than would have been warranted from being compressed under the floor boards. The heavy boots returned in record time. Up swung the door once more to reveal spitting mad face of the man. In he reached, roughly grabbing one of Jack's arms to pry him out of the small hole in the rock foundation. The arm twisted and his elbow gave an agonizing pop.

He could not completely hold in the cry as the pain radiated in both directions from the source of the sound. The man just continued pulling him toward the next room where a fire place was glowing. For some reason, the sight filled him with dread. Sticking out of the coals was the handle of white hot poker. 'I remember.'

The man reached for the poker with his free hand while the other threw Jack against the wall. He slid down it dazed. He still did not have feeling in his legs and he just felt so sick. But he had to move. He had to escape. He was coming!

Pain. The smell of burnt meat. It consumed his mind. He could here screaming, but did not know where it was coming from. It was accompanied by laughing. Terrible laughter.

"I gave you a chance. I've been more than fair. I feed you, clothe you, even let you stay under my roof. All you need to do is obey my rules. What's so hard to understand about that?! WHY CAN'T YOU BEHAVE?!"

I feel it again. The intense heat stabbing into my abdomen. Searing flesh as it tears it's way inside. I scream. My throat is raw. 'Why is it raw? Was that sound me screaming earlier? What did I do to deserve this?!' I feel a fist connect with my skull.

"I told you to shut up!" The poker is removed and returned to the coals. I can't last another round. My vision is fading.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Jack."

It's Pitch. I'm back in the stone room, strung up for his sick enjoyment. My head lolls forward and I see the burns and holes left from the poker of my nightmare memory. This was so wrong. This should not be possible, yet here I am stuck. 'How long have I been here? Surely someone will notice that I'm missing soon! They have to! What else is there to hold on for?!'

"Pity you slept through midnight. Oh well, better late than never. Happy Halloween Jack. The best day of the year. And to celebrate, I have a special surprise for you." Stepping out of the shadows, into the torch light, Pitch bares his gleaming scythe. The one he fought Sandman with all those years ago. I can only stare at the wicked gleam reflecting in Pitch's eyes. This cannot be good.

A/N Sorry this took so long, I went on three back to back to back vacations so I have been indisposed for the past three weeks. Been working on making the chapters longer as per requested. Thank you for your support! I also went through the previous chapters and fixed up some spelling mistakes. I you see any I missed please let me know. Thanks!