Author's Note: lol I hope this confuses you. I was gonna post the first chapter to this but I just wanted to introduce this for now and see just how much of a reaction I can get from you through this. If you hate me forever, I don't blame you : ) I hate myself too so IDGAF.
*WARNING!: This chapter contains graphic descriptions of dead people. I'm beginning to question as to whether or not this should be under M, so that alone should tell you how bad this is. Contains blood, car crashes, remorse, angst, excessively graphic descriptions, melting flesh, morbidity… you get the point. I'm a sick, sick person. Whaddayawantfromme
Jack wanted to disappear.
He didn't want to move, did want to breathe, didn't want to feel. Despite North's instruction to rest and not shift around too much, Jack sat up. He ran a bandaged hand through his white hair, traces of dried blood still present in some places. His many wounds began to ache in discomfort, but he disregarded them and pulled his knobby knees up to his chest. He aggressively buried his head in his arms and silently sobbed. As far as he was concerned, he deserved this cuts, bruises, stitches. He deserved to endure every waking moment of pain he'd ever experienced since he came up from the ice ten times over, after what he'd done. Or rather, what he'd failed to do.
Jack's breath quickened and his heart beat wildly against his aching chest.
He was right there. He was right there, and he couldn't move fast enough! By the time he reached the two cars to stop them, they'd already collided, blocking the rest of the street as a large van rammed into him and shoved him into the mess. And another. And another, until a total of nine cars were among the wreckage, the vehicle that Jamie was in being one of them. When the spirit finally managed to pry himself from the destroyed parts, his first destination was said vehicle. His first priority was not the severe wounds he'd acquired and the slightly charred staff still poking out of the debris. It was Jamie. The car door was jammed, so he impatiently slammed his fist through the glass and wriggled his way through the jagged opening.
"Jack? Ya feelin' alright?" Bunnymund softly questioned, quietly closing the door behind him and nearing the grieving winter sprite.
Jack wanted to disappear. He remembered every detail. He remembered how the cuts strung as he pulled himself through the window, and he remembered the sickening sense of unease he felt after scanning the seats. He remembered first looking to the driver seat, seeing that his mother was unconscious, with a large gaping cut across her forehead, but still alive and breathing nonetheless.
"Look, Frostbite, I know ya blame yourself for this," Bunny beckoned, crouching beside the bed occupied by the balled up boy. "Butcha can't blame yourself, mate. Accidents happen…"
Jack wanted to disappear. He remembered it all too clearly. He remembered looking over to the passenger seat, and upon noticing its vacancy, looked to the battered back end of the car. A small framed child occupied the far right seat.
The entire backside of the car was ablaze.
"There's some things ya just cant stop from happening,"
He remembered it clearly. It was Jamie, that much he could gather from the remnants. But he could only tell by the hat he wore on his head with was now burning with the rest of him. His hands shriveled, gnarled, limply resting on his lap as the fire licked at him - it. Licked at it. The corpse. Its legs, crushed by the debris that crashed through the roof in the collision. Its eyes - his; His eyes, for these were Jamie's - were wide open, brown, lifeless orbs staring into Jack's terrified ones. His face, mutilated, blood running down the blackening cooking skin, mouth agape with surprise.
"Jack?"
The failure, he added onto Bunny's attempt to get his attention. Jack the failure, the one who was there - right there - and watched. The image of Jamie's face was burned into his mind, plaguing his every thought, glued to the back of his eyelids. His face, mutilated, unrecognizable, sickening, blackening as the fire consumed him mercilessly.
"Jack? Can ya hear me?"
His face, mutilated. Jack's breath became increasingly rushed and he gripped his legs so hard he drew blood. Mutilated. Something hopped up beside him and Jack felt strong, furry arms embrace him, cradling him affectionately. "It's gonna be alright, Jack." The guardian of fun did not hug back. Jack continued to sob into his blue arms, murmuring incoherent and meaningless words and apologies as the images returned, as the sweltering unbearable heat of the fire roasted him, as the smell of cooking flesh wafted into his nostrils.
"It's not your fault Jack."
His face. Mutilated. The winter spirit lashed out.
Jack wanted to disappear.
~ROTG~
Author's Note: Dear haters. Don't even waste your time. I warned you. :D Hateful reviews will be ignored, because I don't really care about your insecurities. But hey, hugs and even "that was sick" reviews are appreciated! If I see that people want to know what happened (or if enough people don't like it, because I'll do it just to mess with you guys) I'll continue this little oneshot what if thingy. Please at least review without bad language towards me : )
969~696