Chapter 7

(Trigger warning- thoughts of cutting.)

It had all been a dream, hadn't it?

A beautiful, sensual, marvelous, intoxicating dream.

The fascinating glitter-man with the sexual eyes had promised to keep her safe, and watch over her. He was supposed to be her guardian angel- er- owl. She wouldn't be alone in this world. This life wouldn't get to her.

But it had. Almost immediately after she left high school, life had truly fucked her over. Sarah's semi-famous mother had been seduced by a wealthy older man into his sprawling apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan… only to be drugged and raped. After that, the former Mrs. Williams immediately withdrew from show-business altogether and checked into a mental facility. She couldn't handle the shame.

Then, shortly after beginning college, Sarah's roommate Claire had thrown a bong party in their dorm room, causing them both to be evicted from college housing and strongly encouraged to find their own place. But Claire had decided that college wasn't for her, leaving Sarah to seek work immediately and rent the cheapest apartment she could find- the one she was currently occupying.

Busily juggling work and school and sleep, Sarah had no time for a social life. Her jobs frequently changed and shifted, each earning her the bare minimum wages required to survive. She was starved- both from lack of food, and lack of life. She felt betrayed by the world. It was stomping her all over, crushing her into the ground. Everything hurt. The sun was too bright. Her blood always pounded in her ears. Time moved far too slowly. She could hardly stand it…

A loud moan woke her up. Sarah sat up with a start, only to hazily realize it had been her own. Her eyes traveled slowly downward, taking in her naked body on top of the ratty patchwork quilt. The magic dress lay crumpled in a heap in front of her door. She must have tumbled into bed as soon as she arrived home. Sarah was almost surprised not to see Jareth smirking away in her chair, tapping his boot on the floor and making some double-entendtre'd remark. But why, of course, would he be? The night before came rushing back to her with a loud roar, and her face hit the pillow, curling up fetally and wailing, struck and overcome by everything and nothing at all. Once her pillow was uncomfortably wet, she forced herself to cease crying and wipe her face with her dry palms. The feeling was disgusting, and Sarah instantly wiped her hands on the quilt, registering the bitter taste in her mouth and the snot dripping from her nose. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, head falling forward enough to make her neck ache with the stretch. The cascade of her hair sheltered her from the apartment, veiling her from the cold world. A few more tears passed from her eye ducts, hitting her thighs soundlessly. She blankly registered the dark curls between her legs, the birthmark on her right knee, the tiny red bumps that lined her thighs. Sarah bit her lip hard and shut her eyes, further curling into herself to prevent the beast from ripping her apart. That's what it was now, her depression. A filthy, slimy, horrid beast, waiting to feast on her insides and slowly digging her grave.

Before she knew it, her hand was turning the faucet in her bathtub. But she stopped it, and sighed. Nothing would matter, cold nor hot. She wouldn't be able to feel it, anyway. She sank down into the empty tub and gazed over the tops of her knees, dusty with dryness and neglect. The little wrinkles at each cap appeared as massive caverns, ready to swallow her right up and chew her bones. Sarah was heaving, and she grabbed a small pair of scissors from off the side of the tub, ones she typically used for personal trims. Opening the scissors and gripping the blades under her fingers, she placed the closer blade over her white forearm. Sarah watched as a blue vein twisted and slithered beneath her skin, anxious to bleed with the first slice. She quickly dropped the scissors and gagged, clasping her palms over her mouth as she coughed. She couldn't do it. She simply couldn't do it. Not now.

The vein continued to dance.

Eliean dropped to the ground and twisted his head, making sure he was not being followed nor watched. He shuddered with the wind, watching it drift up and down the ancient brick buildings, through the narrow alley, and over the rusting gates. Swirls of lavender ivy hung from the roof of the Black Violet, and the Fae stood, running a hand through his red mane and analyzing the situation. He was going to distract the mistress of the tavern by setting off three Crystal Blooms. Once she had fled, he would sneak in and find the Rose girl, grab her, and transport to a separate location, where he would attempt the beginning processes of Transformation on her. Eliean had the plan, but he lacked strength in the areas of bravery and communication. How was he to pull such a thing off? Blood Nymph mistresses were brute monsters. And how was he to explain this situation to the girl? Would she understand? Did she know that the King wanted her? Before he could answer his questions, two young nymphs sidled out the back entrance, carrying baskets full of clothes with them. He hushed and transformed into his mouse form, scuttling through the snow and into the small courtyard of the Black Violet. One girl was speaking presently.

"…and she 'as no family. I'd be worried, though. I think she 'as the cough."

"You can't be -serious-, Belinda… why, she's always been a healthy thing."

"Yeah, but… per'aps 'er time is drawing to a close. Per'aps… she 'as been chosen as a sacrifice to…"

"Chranabog isn't real. I thought you knew better. He's just a made-up god."

"But the mistress prays to 'im night 'an day… Sometimes 'er eyes change to green, I swear on me life!"

The two women began shaking out the clothes, ridding them of the dust and dirt that were caked all over the fabrics.

"Anyway… if you ask me, Rose'll be gone within the coming week, I reckon. She be looking pale as Satan 'imself!"

Eliean froze. Rose was sick? With a 'cough'? What type of cough? In any case, this meant trouble. Transformations had to be performed on Nymphs of peak health and ability… otherwise, they were doomed to die in the process. He couldn't stay here. He had to tell Jareth. As quickly as he came, Eliean raced to another alleyway, returning to his Fae form, and sighed. What would he say?…

The cracks of dawn lit up the blinds, and the mirror, and the bed. Sarah skimmed a hand over her thigh and she blinked, nestling further into her pillow. The day could wait for a little while. It was only Christmas. Her parents and brother would probably call around noon to wish her merry and well. It would take all of her strength and willpower left to sound normal. She would probably lie and say she had plans for that afternoon, with a few friends at a restaurant, or something. They would believe her, since they thought she could accomplish anything. They wouldn't even guess at her true situation.

After dozing once again, a sharp knock heralded itself at her door, and Sarah jumped off the bed, wrapping herself in a thin robe and answering the door. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of bright, perky, early-bird Mrs. Webb standing on the other side.

"Good morning, Sarah, dear! I apologize for waking you so early, but I wanted to wish you the merriest of Christmases!" The skin around her eyes crinkled with a warm smile, and Sarah's lips twitched.

"T-thanks, Mrs. Webb. Same to you…"

"I was wondering, dear, if you were visiting with anyone today, or if you have any plans?"

"Um… I think I-"

"Because, if you don't, my son Evan is coming from Brookline to have dinner with me, and I thought you might like to join us! He's a decent boy, he is, and he'll be more than open to having company!"

Sarah scratched her head at all these words and yawned into her sleeve. "I, erm, suppose I could drop by-"

"WON-derful! I will expect you at five, then… don't be late!" The woman smiled again and winked, turning on her heel to return to her apartment. Sarah sighed and shut her door.

Dammit, now I -do- have plans, she thought, shrugging off the robe and laying it over a kitchen chair. She approached the bed once more, and fell onto it, screaming for a moment into the flimsy mattress before turning her head.

"Merry Christmas, Sarah." She laughed once, harshly. "Merry fucking Christmas."

Well HEYYY there, everyone... you must have all thought I kicked the bucket or something. Nope, just got lazy... incredibly, incredibly lazy...

In truth though, after that last chapter, I was petrified and had no idea where to go next. I had to talk out the plot and all my ideas with my bestie before I made a rough outline of this chapter... but, even then, that was about four months ago. So I just recently re-read both LCBtD and this story before deciding to boldly continue on my path of FanFic glory. Haha. That rhymes.

But I feel completely awful for leaving you all so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was never my intention. So I pray you will forgive me, gentle readers, and stick with me through this fic... even if it takes much bleeding, sweating, and crying to churn out. I'm incredibly rusty on my writing habits, so I also pray for your forgiveness if anything is choppy or poorly worded. I love you all so, so very much. Take care.