Frostrauma Chapter 7: Disconnected
Author's Note: Well finally. Brace yourself for a plot twist. If nothing makes sense to you, please try to brave through it, because it becomes clearer towards the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one.
LONG(ISH) CHAPTER AHEAD BROS
***WARNING!*** Rated T for: Thoroughly elaborate descriptions of bloodcurdling horrific images (No language or violence yaaaay :D) well actually there is some "violence" and disturbing content, ex. blood, angst… again, some of the descriptions might seem a bit, uh, unsettling to say the least. Seriously. For those of you who've weak constitutions, or who can see what they read crystal clear in their minds (I forget what it's called :| ), please consider this before reading. It's now tilting toward more of the horror\graphic side of things now, because, well, normal's no fun. So yeah. Dark, dark, dark sh*t up in here. D: (NO PAIRINGS. NO SLASH. OKAY? OKAY.)
TO AVOID ANY CONFUSION, IT BEGINS WITH BEFORE BUNNY APOLOGIZES THEN SKIPS THROUGH TO WHAT HAPPENS AFTER.
It was all he wanted to hear. I'm sorry for everything, Jack. It seemed legit, how it played out in his head; and it seemed even better when it actually carried out in reality. And Jack wanted it more than anything, or at least something tantamount to the five words. Something that he could use to tell himself even though it might not have seemed like it, he was needed. You're a lil brat but I still care for ya. Yes. That would've sufficed nicely. It was all he wanted, to know that he had purpose here. A few measly words - was that too hard to ask of the Pooka? Did he even consider how he feels on the matter? Jack just wanted something that meant there was more to him than just fun and winter and mischief, even if it turned out that that's all there really was of him. An apology, a hug, a smart remark, a small head nod…
He would take anything.
Anything at all.
Unfortunately, that's where the problem resided. It was a problem that ate at Jack all throughout his existence up to this point. There was simply nothing to take in. None of this I'm sorry for everything Jack, no you're a lil brat but I still care for ya, no hug, no smart remark, not even a small head nod. Not even a look from the Pooka after all those years.
There was just silence.
And Jack wanted to say something so bad. Right now, he wanted to say, can I go outside now? and then up and leave, and he was tempted to at any moment. He wanted Bunny to say no so that the winter spirit could have something to work off of, something to instigate with. Just because it was there for him to take. Because usually, there was nothing for him to work off of, and he was left with silence.
Jack Frost hated silence.
It was frightening. It was awkward. It was nerve racking. It was odd. It was unbearable. It followed Jack around like a lost puppy but glowered upon him like a hungry greyhound. There had to be something in the background, and he strained his hearing to try and make something out of the paralyzing quiet, something that was there to work off of.
But the Pole was dead silent. The fireplace he sat next to had stopped long ago (due to his own chilly climate, no doubt), no longer emitting the pleasant sound of fire crackling and burning. The elves were somewhere else in the Pole, it seemed. There were no jingling of the bells atop their heads, seeing that there were none roaming around aimlessly at this point. There should've been the sound of toys being constructed and tested, the sound of garbling yetis scurrying around the hallways hurriedly, the sound of wind whistling through the crack of the slightly open window above them. There should've been something. There should've been something. Jack despised how every time he wanted quiet, the world seemed to have its volume on HIGH, and whenever he did want noise because he felt uncomfortable with the silence, the world contracted his discomfort and went quiet too. Murphy's Law, he thought it was what mortals called it…
Jack knew Bunny loved silence.
To him, it was calming. It was malleable. It was reassuring. It was normal. It was what he yearned for. It's what he never got to have, especially around the winter gumby. He craved it, mainly because all of that background hullabaloo hurt his sensitive ears. There didn't have to be anything to work off of for Bunny. He didn't need anything to work off of, like Jack did.
Jack hated silence.
So when he finally managed to break it, it felt like he had been holding his breath, and the feeling of the chilly air reentering his lungs steadied him.
"Sooooo…" he began to say, looking out the snowy window longingly as if to emphasize his eagerness to get out of this awkward situation. "…well, this is oodles of fun, but uh… can-can I go outside now?"
Jack expected the answer no.
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Please?"
"Jack."
The way the Bunny said his name felt like a punch to the stomach, so Jack stopped trying. Instead, he lowered his head and stared at the ground in defeat, thinking of all the things he'd much rather talk about aside from this specific topic. Cats. he wasn't much of a cat person, but he would much rather talk about cats. Or maybe dogs. Or even parrots. He would rather talk about the crush Tooth had on him, because it wasn't near as awkward and self-depreciating as the one Jack knew Bunny wanted to talk about.
He seriously expected a pep talk. He braced himself for the whole "there's no reason to cut" and "we're here to help you".
So when Bunny said something else, something completely different, something that Jack had been longing to hear for longer than anything, his heart stopped. All stray thoughts ceased, and his mind drew a blank. For a second he couldn't breathe. It had always been hard to breathe around Bunny; he scared him, he angered him, he antagonized him, he misunderstood him…
But this time, it was hard to breathe because he was crying so hard. Because a floodgate within him had finally spilled over after at least one hundred and fifty years of buildup. Jack was finding it hard to breathe because he was sobbing.
And he was hugging Bunny.
And Bunny was hugging back.
Never. Never in a million years could Jack see this happening. Yet here it was. But these weren't the thoughts that ran through his mind as his tears were wiped away this time by someone else. The only words that processed were He just said he cared about me. No one ever told Jack that they cared about him. In his years living as a spirit, and even in the years he lived as a mortal, no one ever told him. His father, after receiving his memories, considered him more or less a disappointment. Granted, his mother loved him, but that was as expected. And he never expected Bunny, of all spirits, to say something like that to him. It felt like something inside of him just snapped in two, but for the best. It was a sharp pain, reduced to but a mere numbing throb that no longer bothered him. It was hard to explain just how it made Jack feel, but rest assured, it felt like a bullet went through his chest. Only the bullet didn't get lodged into his heart. It just followed through, the shock mostly abrupt and the pain, close to nothing.
Jack shuddered and burrowed his face into the pooka's warm fur, his tears smearing across his face and freezing into a thin sheet of frost. Funny, Jack had never expected Bunny to be so warm. Then again, he never expected to be hugged by the furball any time soon.
The winter spirit could've sworn that Bunny was crying himself, but he wasn't sure. Everything was a teary-eyed blur of fur and black. And all Jack could tell himself was He just said he cared about me.
Bunny didn't really know what to think about this silence.
This silence wasn't one made up of tension, and it wasn't an eerie one either. And… it wasn't necessarily silent. The wind had picked up, and a small whistling sound could be heard not too far above them. Having oversensitive ears, he could hear Jack's breathing resounding off the walls. He could even make out a heartbeat.
Bunny was sitting comfortably on the ground, a sleeping winter spirit cradled in his arms who was unintentionally creating a light snow above them. Not that Bunnymund minded, of course. It was the first time he actually got a chance to see winter's snowflakes at work after misunderstanding it for so long. The fragile snowflakes seemed to be created out of thin air towards the ceiling of the workshop, and they swirled gently down to earth before either landing on Bunny's fur or disappearing altogether. It was, although slightly chilly, a breathtaking delight.
But Bunny knew better than anyone that good things don't last forever.
So when he saw the three other Guardians return to the workshop with sullen looks on their faces, he wasn't very much surprised. Upon their arrival, Bunny carefully lifted Jack off of him and set him down on the floor. He would wake up soon anyway. He hopped toward the others silently, who led them out into the hallway to discuss as to not wake up the sleeping spirit in the Globe Room.
"How is Jack doing, Bunny?" North questioned with a serious look on his face.
Bunny softly closed the hallway door behind him. "He's out cold, mate. Heh, I mean he's down for the count. Where ya been?"
Again, North looked down to the floor, Sandy and Toothiana following suit. "We have… been to talk with Mother Nature, and…" North's voice wavered, and he chewed his lower lip nervously. The others were silent still staring at the floorboards, which in and of itself was enough to put the Pooka on edge.
"And what?" he encouraged. "What is it?"
"We spoke with her about Jack's condition, and she said it was the…" North shook his head and finally brought himself to look Bunny in the eye. "It's his center, Bunny. He's…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
Bunny's ears drooped, and his heart filled with dread. "No…" Of all the things that could have gone wrong, it had to be this? He silently cursed. Of all things!?
"I am afraid so." North mumbled. "She said serious effects could kick in any time. And when they do, he will be… lost…" Sandy winced under North's harsh but true terminology, and he gently patted Tooth's shoulder as she choked back a sob.
Bunny's mind reeled, and his heart raced. No. This was Jack they were talking about! Fun was the reason for his being; hell, he was practically the personification of fun (and winter, of course). He couldn't have… Bunny shook his head. "No, we…we-we hafta tell him!"
North crossed his arms. "You know we can't do that, Bunny! Telling him will only make him more anxious and speed up process! No, we must determine what stage he's in, and react accordingly. Has he spoken to you about…?"
"No,"
Tooth placed a hand on Bunny's shoulder. "It's going to be alright, Bunny." she reassured, before Bunny pulled away with a scoff. "No 's not! Ya all bloody know that it's not gonna be okay!" he hissed. "D'you know what that kid has been through already? And-and then you wanna put him through this, without even tellin' him!?" The pooka shook his head. "North, do you know how scared he'll be?"
North took a long time to respond, even under Bunny's expectant stare. When he finally spoke, his face was set and his voice calmly composed despite the rapid watering of his eyes. He pulled out a small glass vial labeled Pol. Opp. "She says this will help subdue side effects and will act as an-"
"North!" Bunny exclaimed furiously as he hopped forward. " 'ave ya not taken that into consideration? He won't know what in the bloody hell's going on! And then we've got Pitch, who'll use Jack's fear to his advantage, no doubt! Did ya even consider Jack's position? Do ya even care?!" Bunny snarled, having ultimately lost his temper. North still appeared unaffected, his expression completely empty as Bunny calmed down. "I understand your anxiety, Bunny." He looked up sternly. "But it's… for the best. All we can do now, my friend, is hope we're not too late to help him."
When Jack woke up, he felt… different. It wasn't a good different, mind you. It was that strange feeling you got when someone was watching you, but you were the only one there. It was that feeling that there were beings around you that meant to harm you, but the only ones in the room were Jack and-
The Guardian of Fun shakily stood up and looked around the room. No. He was the only one here. Bunny was nowhere in sight. Before he considered looking around the workshop, a sharp pain surged through his body, originating from his head, and caused him to topple over most ungracefully to the ground. It was a quick wave of unbearable pain, one that reminded Jack of the brain freezes he got when he drank those milkshakes too fast with Jamie. Only these pains emanated from his head like a headache and swept through every part of his body, a painful numbing sensation that sent chills down his spine. With a feeble moan, Jack gripped his head in his hands. Come on! I really don't need this now! He prayed for it to stop. It was a quick splash of cold, hurt, and dread; and just like that, it was gone.
And he felt different still, only to a heightened degree. Firstly, he was cold, a rare and rather uncomfortable feeling that usually didn't bother Jack. Secondly, there was a different feeling in the air. It was that sixth sense feeling that told you you were in danger and had to get out NOW. And it scared him. He'd never felt threatened like this before, especially in the North…
Jack's thoughts wavered as he got a good look of the Pole. Then he sternly told himself that he was dreaming. He had to be, right? That, or he was hallucinating again. He mentally scolded himself. This was the perfect example of terrible timing, proof that Father Time clearly wasn't on his side, because the last thing that Jack needed right now was another one of these hallucinating episodes.
But this felt different from the other hallucinations he had. It made him feel uneasy. Never have they been this realistic, this detailed, this accurate.
So was it really a hallucination?
He asked himself this question as he inspected the bloodstained window, as well as the walls which were splattered with bloody handprints. It looked as if someone cut themselves on the glass and had hurt themselves, and was using the wall for leverage. It looked pretty real to him, and that meant one of two things. One, his hallucinations have gotten so bad to the point he could actually mistake it for reality instead of shrugging it off, or two, someone actually crashed through this window and was severely injured, and after wandering around somewhere in the Pole.
Fingering the red blood dripping from the sharp edges of the broken glass, he sighed. If this was a hallucination, it probably meant that he should leave before ultimately embarrassing himself. And odds are, it was. But if it wasn't… it wouldn't hurt to just look around the Pole to confirm it, right? What if it was Tooth, or that spirit needed serious help? It seemed to be the smartest thing to do, in his mind. Jack nodded to himself. Yes. He would run a quick round throughout the workshop and see if there was anyone there, maybe run into Bunny and tell him what he saw. And if there were those (downright dreadful, impossible and frightening) hallucinations of his meandering throughout the workshop, he'd flee before the guardians could see him freak out over something they couldn't see. And he really didn't need that in his current disposition.
Jack turned around and reached for his staff, only to pause and jump backwards a few steps in surprise.
A tombstone.
A crumbling gray tombstone was staring at him watchfully with bloodshot eyes that followed his own frightened ones. It resided just in front of his staff. No, Jack didn't consider himself a baby or a chicken, he just didn't like having to face his hallucinations. Therefore, he deemed it best just to leave his staff there, under the protective watch of his imaginary tombstone, whose eyes followed him all the way out the door and into the hallway.
Jack sighed in relief when he closed the door. That tombstone was beginning to make his skin crawl. He rested his forehead against it and nervously gripped the door handle. He just hoped that the other Guardians didn't make it back from their little field trip yet.
A bone chilling, throaty growl emitted from something that was standing directly behind him, and Jack's heart stopped. His breath caught in his throat and his body refused to obey the first instinct that came to mind: run. He stood there paralyzed for a few more seconds before Jack, rather than taking the obvious route of escape that was literally right in front of him, brought himself to turn around and face whatever growled at him.
He wished he hadn't.
God, he wished he hadn't. Why couldn't he have just ran?
Monster. It was a monster. It was a disgustingly horrifying creature, whose features were elongated and distorted, or missing altogether. Its limbs looked to have been thrown together with string, tree bark, and bones, then held together by a thick black tar. It's eyes were but empty red sockets that, if Jack dared to stare into them long enough, appeared to go on forever inside of its hollow head. A sickening sense of dread overwhelmed him as the creature's jaw opened to talk, only to disconnect with its cranium. A cracking sound trilled throughout the hallway as it continued to open until it looked as if the jaw was dangling from what was supposed to be its head, and it growled again.
Out of pure terror, Jack's limbs were forced into motion.
He'd much rather face the tombstone with watchful eyeballs than this horrific creature without them.
Faster than he ever thought possible, Jack swiveled around and barged through the door. He ran for his staff full speed only to skid to a halt when the monster, whose trills and growls have now escalated to a deafening roaring sound, sprung in front of him. The monster bawled and rapidly advanced toward him.
"D-don't get any closer!" Jack hollered, his limbs trembling as he shakily attempted to back his way into the hallway. "Stay away from me!"
The monster paused and tilted its head inquisitively. "Jack? Jack! Jack!?" a little girl's voice emitted from its throat. It stared down at him with hollow eyes, and slowly began limping forward, its gnarled bony hands dragging along the floor.
Jack flipped back around and rammed through the hallway door, his bare feet barely touching the floor as he ran down the long hallway and turned the corner. Again, he found himself skidding to a halt, backing up against the wall and staring at what was before him in utter terror.
There were more of them. Three more monsters, to be exact, who abruptly stopped whatever they were doing and turned at him simultaneously. And they, too, began to surround him. All he could hear was the trilling of the monsters and the deafening beating of his heart. His hands were shaking harder then before, he noticed as he balled them up into fists and brought them up to his head in a subconscious effort to calm him down. Then again, who wouldn't be quivering like a leaf when in the presence of these macabre, ghastly monsters? By this time, it slipped Jack's mind that these were coming from his own mind; as far as he was concerned, they were real. They looked real, their chilling groans resonated off the walls, and their intentions were clear.
With a slight whimper, Jack pulled himself together and with a burst of adrenaline, shot through the crowd of monsters and rocketed through the hallway. He felt something slam into his shoulder, something that left a sparkly yellow residue on his blue hoodie, but Jack paid no heed to it, nor did it affect him. He couldn't bring himself to turn around, much less inspect what they were throwing at him.
Before he could open the door at the end of the very end of the hallway, the door that Jack assumed led to one of the toy-making wings in the huge workshop, she appeared in front of him. A little girl, around the age of nine, looking as if she took a swim, as she was drenched head to toe. "You promised, Jack!" She said with a sob. "You promised me!"
"I-I'm sorry!" Jack spat heartbrokenly before swiveling around her and bursting through the door. She followed, as the monsters did, with breakneck speed. "You lied to me, Jack!" she hollered, her voice slowly becoming more and more distorted. Jack was afraid to turn around.
By this time, Jack was afraid to look at just about everything around him. He was no longer at the Pole, the door he barged through led to the small town of what was supposed to be Burgess in the 1700s era. And for the third time in five minutes, he find himself sliding to a stop in a desperate effort to keep from colliding with the townspeople. He was convinced; this couldn't have been just an elaborate hallucination. The townspeople, all of which he recognize from his memories, all glowered upon him, some even tried to block his way as he fled from the monsters heading deeper into towns square. They all scolded him and made remarks about him at the same time as he shoved by, making it hard to hear if the monsters were still approaching.
"Ugh, it's just that one Overland boy. Marlot, you are not to speak with him - nay, you're not to look at him, understand?"
"Watch where you're going, you miscreant!"
"Where should you be, Overland? Running amok the square like a lunatic or herding the sheep out in the field where you belong?"
Trembling, Jack finally made it at the heart of town square, still frantically looking around as the crowd slowly began to disperse upon his arrival. A deep, familiar voice spoke behind him, and when he sprang back upon realizing that it was one of the monsters, he unknowingly backed himself into three other monsters behind him.
"Don't touch me! Get away!" he shouted as they reached for him.
"Jack, life isn't all about fun and games." One of them said in his father's voice, looking down on him angrily. "Now get down from that tree and help me cut the firewood. I don't give a damn if it's Easter. Work still needs to be done."
"Burn him! Burn him!"
"Jack! You promised, Jack! You promised!"
And somewhere in the slur of voices, he could make out Pitch's voice.
"You want to grab them and run off with them! But you're afraid of what the Guardians might think."
"Burn him! Burn him!"
"You're afraid of disappointing them."
"You promised me, Jack!"
"Well let me ease your mind on one thing; they'll never accept you, not really."
"Jack, life isn't all about fun and games."
"Oi, Overland! It's all fun and games 'till someone loses an eye, ya hear me?"
They cornered him like a pack of hunters cornered a wounded animal.
And like a wounded animal, he reacted.
Clenching his eyes and angrily gripping his head, he let out an earsplitting holler, and in a matter of seconds, town square was engulfed in a raging blizzard.
The townspeople remained unfazed and continued to shout at him. The monsters cried out angrily and lunged for him all at once, wrestling him to the floor as he struggled to escape their grip.
"Let go of me! Let go of me! Please! I'm sorry!"
His father's voice emitted from their misshapen faces as they spoke to him simultaneously. "Sorry's not enough, boy! You never treat the bible like it's a joke, you never question Him, you never disobey Him, and you never mock His work! Never! You will learn some respect even if I have to beat it into you!"
"But I didn't! I swear I was listening! I'm sorry!"
"Ben, stop it! He's had enough, please leave him be."
"You've no say in this, wench!"
"Keep that up, and he'll be deathly afraid of you earlier on! He was merely keeping the younger children occupied, for goodness' sake! Why should he be punished for that?"
It was a question that remained unanswered for the most part, mainly because if you answered it wrong, you'd receive the same treatment as he did. So they let it be. But for whatever reason, Jack always seemed to have the wrong answer. So did that mean they were the wrong questions?
He frantically writhed and tore at the bloodcurdlingly frightening creatures as they attempted to pin him still against the ground. And when the townspeople, all dressed in their bland pilgrim-like fashion and laughing heartily at his distraught disposition, began to gather around the spectacle in he town square, Jack realized that this had happened before, a horrifying case of dé jà vu on his part. Only back then, he wasn't the one to be crucified.
"Please! Please let me go! I'm sorry!"
"Burn him! Burn him!" the townspeople cried, a heavy demeanor of outrage and bloodlust about them. Oh god. They weren't going to string him up, were they? They weren't going to set him on fire, were they? They wouldn't do that!
Yes. Jack silently had to admit to himself. Yes they would. They've done it before.
Wildly thrashing and screaming, this thought drove the winter sprite over the edge. Yes they would. "Please! Please let me go! I'm sorry!" he sobbed over their angry growling and scolding.
"Jack, life isn't all about fun and games." The little girl reminded him as she brought forth a lit candle. "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the candlestick!" Some of the children sneered from behind the massive circle the monsters created as they held him down. Yes they would. They've done it before.
"Stop! Stop, please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't!"
"You promised! You promised!" she shouted over all of his cries, kneeling beside him and sliding up one of his sleeves while one of the monsters held him in place.
"You lied to me Jack."
She lowered the candle onto his bare arm, and the fire licked at his wrist. A searing pain surged throughout his body, and a heart wrenching cry tore from his throat. His back arched in pain as the burning swept through his body, and as quickly as it came, it was gone.
And Jack felt different still. The pain faded quickly, replaced with a dreadfully cold, numbing feeling that overwhelmed him. All efforts of breaking free from the monsters ultimately ceased, and the creature's faces blurred with the smoky background before disappearing altogether. His eyelids grew heavy, and he found that no matter how many times he tried, he had no control of himself in every aspect. His mind drew a blank, completely void of any thoughts or recollections. He tried to say something, but all that would escape his lips were soft, unintelligible moans. His body wouldn't listen to him and fight back against the monsters, and seeing that his mind slowly began to stop thinking altogether, it gave his body no orders to follow in the first place. And his eyes gradually closed against his will as the voices of his attackers met his ears, but were no longer capable of being understood.
"Jack be nimble, Jack be quick…"
"You promised me."
"You're not one of them."
Author's Note: I WARNED YOU. (Puts up hate-proof barrier) I'm sowwee :'( The moment was just BEGGING for more unnecessary depression and grotesqueness. Dude, this'll look so cool in comic book form, I swear to you.
Aaaaand I wrote this before bed one night, so guess who didn't get to sleep until like three in the morning? :D Meeeee. Also, am I the only one who, after reading that one word sentence Monster. thought of Meg & Dia's Monster Dubstep Remix? That's like the chapter theme song. Speaking of songs, the next chapter song (or the one after that) will have the theme song Drilled A Wire Through My Cheek, by Blue October, isso beautiful :D. Or Move by Thousand Foot Crutch… hmm… I wanna make an RotG fan video with that song so bad… (but hey if you beat me to it, I'll totally draw you something XD)
Oh and thanks for the sweets and milk! (Nomnomnomnomnomnom…)
REVIEW but do so gently please. I love my life.
969~696