Author's note: YES YES I'M ALIVE AND CONTINUING EDITS! FINALLY, RIGHT? HELLO? ANYONE? Anyhow...The flashback made me cry a little in my kokoro. Also, shout out to kateygirl7, sibunasiren10, Poosa-ard, TheDeadlyKnightshade, Like Stars in the Sky, kimikokimono, WhiteDemoness11, victoriaesteguy, AliceInTheCountryOfClover, meep15, and skittlexninja! I was gone for a long time, and I'm just... Thanks for the support :)

I remember my parents shutting me in my room. Telling me to sit on the bed, and staring at me. I didn't understand what is it I did wrong that time, yet I try to keep my gaze away from them as best as I could. However, my eyes would eventually drift and catch theirs. I am not normal, you see. Not normal at all. I don't know why. I follow their every advice, listen to every instruction, letting them erase everything they thought is unneeded. But I still can't seem to make them happy.

"There's something wrong with you." My father says blatantly. "I don't know what, I don't know why... But you are not normal."

Odd, weird, abnormal, freak. I've heard it all before. But never from my own parents. Not until now, at least.

I try as best as I could to answer. "I don't mean to be... I just don't know why... I can't-"

"Why aren't you like other kids?!" Father explodes. "Where had we gone wrong with you?!"

I look at my mother, and she looks away. I look at my hands again and hold my breath, trying to keep my sobs at bay. My tears were threatening to fall, but letting them will only cause more trouble with father. I don't understand why they are yelling at me. Didn't they want me to be like this? To be different from other kids?

What was wrong with me?

I yearn so badly to yell back, but there was nothing in my throat to yell with. "I'm sorry... "

The words my father throws back rings pointlessly in my ears, completely ignored. I jump to my feet and run right past them. Their yanks and screams are completely bypassed by my rush, my feet carrying me out of the house to one place I knew I can be safe. But what I didn't know was that it would become my tomb.

The rain eventually soothes itself to a stop. The forest is wet. Drops of water slide down from leaves and eventually disappears in the ground, and the scenery is alive once again.

The air gradually stabilizes, allowing a gentle, chilly breeze to dance by. The sun's rays disappear as the moonlight creeps in, somehow coloring the plant life a pale blue as the songs the birds once sang were replaced by a symphony of crickets. A little too much frost entered the breeze's gentle dance, but that was simply because Jack Frost had emerged from the cave he hid in from the rain. Right behind him, I climb out, one hand and half an arm missing. But I don't care. My eyes are occupied by the captivating beauty the forest held, and I am dumbfounded on how I've been blind to it for so long.

A merry laugh came from the both of us as we broke into a dash, playing a game of chase with one another. Like a leaf carried by the wind, we weave between the in our game of tag. It was childish, pointless fun. Something I had never experienced before. Something I never knew could be so wonderful, so needed. But apparently, even after centuries of living, I knew nothing at all.

Time passes, and the two of us soon found themselves out of breath. Jack rests on air as he pants, occasionally letting out a chuckle. I found it intriguing, the way he breathes out his laughter. The way he tilts his head back when he pants instead of hanging it. How it clearly showed his jawline, and how it makes me lose my own breath. I'd like to think it was the most fun he's had in a while. Since he's visible now, playing tricks in plain sight must simply not work anymore.

I sit back on my legs on the ground, away from the puddles, until until my eyes caught sight of the one right in front of me. I cock my head, and soon I crawl up to it. My eyelids drooped once my gaze caught sight of the girl in the puddle. That was the face of the odd girl who lived hundreds of years ago. The girl who was different, strange. I didn't understand what was so different about her really. She had a nose, two eyes, a mouth, and two ears. Drooping over it all were her midnight black hair. Short. Like how a daydream lasts. I lift my hand up and brush my bangs back to my scalp, and the girl in the puddle did too. They fell back to where they were in the first place.

What was wrong with me?

I made sure Jack wasn't paying attention before looking at my damaged hand. The sand was starting to itch.

I scrunch up my nose, allowing my fingers to linger above the holes and scratch, peeling the sand from my skin. It was a painful relief. So rewarding, yet damaging at the same time. The sand stuck under my nails, and it was one of the lesser things that brought discomfort. Without much thought, I scraped it on my tunic. A sliver of moonlight shines upon it, making my sand coat sparkle. And I could suddenly hear the Man in the Moon's voice.

'Hide...'

I blink. Hide?

The thought had barely left my thoughts when, from out out of the shadows, a nightmare rampages out; its shrill neigh pierces through the air. Jack snaps to attention, holding his staff up offensively, but the nightmare merely galloped around him. He was confused, and so was I. The panic simply drained out, until he remembered who was behind him, and I remembered where I was. In a split second, Jack had whipped sharply around, just as I lift my eyes to look into the piercing red of the dark creature. There wasn't any time, not even a moment, for me to scream or even gasp. It was just a blur, when the nightmare dispersed into a cloud of black sand and tackled me backwards, plunging me in the mud, before it fizzled out into thin air.

Jack dashed to me, kneeling next to my mud covered form, and all the while calling my name worriedly. It might've been the strangest thing in the world, but that made me happy. And yet, I find myself unable to respond. I felt stiff, and my body hurt. As if a thousand needles were being jammed into my pores all at once. The only thing I could do, was shut my eyes tightly. I couldn't see what was happening, all I knew was what I heard and how I felt. How the traces of black spiral on my temples, crawling like vines up my arms, and recreating piercing into the damaged arm. How horrifying it must be. The only moment I opened my eyes was to look at my arm, wondering if the darkness would fade away. If it would stay that way. I didn't know. But I do know I am afraid.

All of a sudden, I'm off the ground and in the skies the next moment. The wind whipped violently at my face, and I could feel Jack's arms below my knees, and clutching my back. I knew he had to get to North's workshop. Summon the other Guardians and warn them about Pitch's return. Or perhaps he was worried Pitch would emerge and ambush him. But I'd also like to think he was doing it to help me.

Through my eyes, the night goes by in a blur. I could feel myself slowly drift into unconsciousness, whatever control I had left slipping through my fingers. But I knew I couldn't. I couldn't fall asleep. It was a curse that came with being me. There is no sleep. Only traveling inside and outside of my own head. Consciousness and subconsciousness. But right now, I was being forced into subconsciousness against my will.

We fly through the air and the winds soon change. The view before us became blocked with snowstorms and raging winds. The North Pole was no joke at this time around. One could easily lose their way and freeze to death. But that's another way in which you could say we were the fortunate ones. I don't feel warm or cold, and neither did Jack. It is, at most times, a great advantage. But sometimes, I miss feeling heat on my skin and getting numb from touching ice. I wonder if Jack does too. Must be ironic that he can't even feel the chill of his own wind. But I think it's for the best. It wouldn't be funny if Jack Frost got cold feet.

I manage to narrow my eyes enough to make out the lights of North's workshop. With a deep breath on Jack's side, we propel through the winds and snow, and soon, the outline of the workshop became clear. But once the view has cleared, Jack stopped sharply in mid air.

The workshop spewed smoke, massive holes on it's walls and ceilings, with some parts crumbling to the snow covered ground. Sounds of panicked yeti and squeals of distressed elves echo out from inside. It was a hollow tap on my heart, but I could feel Jack shaking. I wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was horror, fear. But perhaps, it was anger. Boiling inside of him. For the next moment, we were rocketing at breakneck speed right to the source of chaos, so violently fast that Jack seemed to have forgotten he was carrying someone.

I don't think he wasted a single second to get there. He flew in through a massive crack on the wall of the workshop. The inside was far worse than I could imagine, and I'm the person who was known for her overactive imagination. The tables and shelves were broken, most ablaze. Toys were scattered everywhere, broken in pieces. A few pillars had collapsed, and the inhabitants were in a frenzy as nightmares chased and cornered them. I counted ten elves and three yeti laying motionless on the ground, probably dead.

Before I knew it, North's flying toys came charging at us.

Jack ducks low enough to avoid an RC helicopter from beheading him, and rose high enough to avoid a drone from slicing off his legs. We take off in the opposite direction. The toys seemed twitchy, and black sand was puffing out of them from time to time. Apparently Pitch's nightmare can posses solid objects now. Jack seemed to be thinking this through himself. It took an inch between his cheek and a possessed toy airplane for him to snap back to attention. He positions me on to his left arm and began to freeze the hostile toys with his staff on his right.

Any toy that tried to get near us ends up frozen and falls right out of the air. I'm sure North wouldn't miss them. Somehow, I was still conscious, yet my my limbs were limp as a rag doll, occasionally twitching on its own, and I start to realize how sloppily Jack was flying. The extra weight must be heavily effecting him.

We manage to make it to globe and land at the very top. Jack gently places me down before giving his staff a good spin and slamming it down, sending off a wave that freezes the possessed toys. A chill that disperses the roaming nightmares. And a breeze that puts out the fires. He'd picked up some new tricks too apparently.

The situation begins to settle, and once again, Jack hoists me up over his shoulder before taking off. Kind of like a sack of potatoes. I notice black sand crawling amongst the shiny golden coat of my arm before it disappears again. It seemed to have reverted back to normal, but I had a feeling in mg gut that just told me this is definitely not good. Jack flies me to North's office, where the door and most of the wall dividing it from the rest of the workshop had been destroyed. And inside, there were two Norths. One was on the ground, and the other is standing up, holding one of his swords at the throat of the other.

Jack's jaw fell agape, and I could only squint to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks. The North that was on his feet soon turns his head and looks at me with yellow eyes. Wait, yellow? My eyes widen as the yellow-eyed North cracked a sinister grin, as if he was waiting for me to see this. And I know I'm not the only one who found that familiar.

"Pitch..." Jack's voice came out as a growl, his hand clutching his so staff tightly I worry it might snap in two. "You let him go!"

The spirit of fear cackles, coats of black sand shedding off him, melting away the red coat and white beard, molding the sword he held up towards North's neck back into a scythe, and revealing his true, sleek, black form. "Now, now, Frost... Don't be jealous, you'll have your turn..."

His eyes waft back to me for a moment, but then they snap back to the white-haired boy and he let out a chuckle. "I'm done here. Enjoy your safety while you can."

And right before my very eyes, Pitch vanishes in a mist of sand.

North soon let out a cough as he brought his hand up to his neck. "Oy vey... That vas the vorst moment of- MY VORKSHOP!"

He leaps to his feet and rushes right passed me and Jack, out towards what was left of his glorious workshop. Jack manages a sigh before he eased me on to the only table still in one piece in North's office. I look into his sky colored eyes, and he looks into mine, uttering words my fading consciousness could not catch.

I finally succumbed.

In my subconsciousness, all I can see is miles and miles of black. Bodiless voices, whispering, surrounding me, driving me to insanity. My gut churns, and my anxiety steadily rises. My hands find their way to my ears, blocking out the noise. But they were the kind of sound you do not hear. They are sound you receive. And they were still there. I feel trapped.

There is no ground, no sky. There is no breeze, no air. I am trapped in my mind. Trapped in a world I had always escaped to.

But this isn't home, I realize. This is twisted and barren. It is Pitch Black.

The ground begins to swallow me. Black sand surrounding me, blocking whatever vision I had in the first place. I am slipping away. And soon I am nothing but a doll. Quiet, helpless. I have control of nothing anymore.