Chapter Three: Alone

For the second time being here, my head hurts. I don't know why I had the sudden urge to sleep when I did, but now I wish I hadn't.

Everything is dark, I can't see a damn thing. This makes my anxiety grow, especially when I dare to think that he had left me in the same room with those little monsters. I knew he didn't. I can't hear their horrible voices anymore.I am alone. I groan and sit up, realizing I am lying down on a stone floor. My head throbs and I fight back tears.

I should never have come here.

I should have listened to the doctors who told me it was all a dream. I should have put this behind me and attempted to get 'better'. Then again, I was never very good at letting things go. The doctor's diagnosis were all the same; the Labyrinth was my way of facing my fears and growing up. It was Jareth that wasn't healthy apparently.

Forget about talking to my mirror; when I told Toby about the amazingly handsome Goblin King, Irene would always be on edge. I groan again.

I was an idiot for thinking I had grown up. I may be an adult now but I was still just a stupid teenage girl with a crush. Jareth was a fascinating enigma and I often wondered what would have happened if I'd stayed with him.

I push such thoughts to the dark little corner of brain where they can peacefully exist without any trouble. Even though I always knew that this place was real, calling the Goblin King a metaphor for becoming a woman was tempting. Blaming his attractiveness and how I felt about him on a girlish need for a strong man in her life was simple.

I really liked simple back then. I still do.

I decide it's time for a bit more exploring. I stand up, scraping my hands on the ground. I smirk and lift an eyebrow as I survey my palms. Just as I suspected, they are covered in glitter. He was here recently. I feel my way around the room, which is much smaller than I would have thought.

I stop dead when I reach the far wall. Along the length, the wall is uneven, like parts of it have been cut out, and in between these parts is just empty space. The realization is shocking. Jareth has locked me up. He has locked me up!

The sections of the wall are metal and I slam my hands against them. I am satisfied with the echoing clang that bounces off of the walls.

He can't do this to me, I know the rules, I have to run. Jareth never really was one for rules though. Still, he has to be fair, right? Wrong. I'm smart enough to know that Jareth will never be okay with fair; not if it puts his chances of winning in jeopardy.

I slam my hands against the bars again. I hiss in pain, that's starting to hurt. I'm lucky enough that I don't have to do it anymore as a few seconds later, a light appears. It's just a crack, like the kind when a door is opening, but it grows and soon I see a short figure loitering around in the entrance. It makes little squeaky noise when it sees me standing up.

"Oh! She's up!" It cackles. It's much bigger than those horrid little monsters from before, and it's eyes are a dull brown. I thought I knew a Goblin when I saw one, but it seems as though I just met my first. It scurries off to tell someone that I'm conscious again, and before I can wonder who, the person whom I've been thinking about is standing in the doorway.

Could he really have changed that much? There are wrinkles around his mismatched eyes from frowning. His skin is pallid and in his wild mess of blonde hair are several gray streaks. He was the picture of youth the last time I was here which was not so long ago, what has happened to him?

"Hello, Sarah." He even sounds older, although the way he says my name has not changed. He always said it carefully, as if testing it like it was the first time. There was always a possessive undertone and I often wonder if there will always be.

"Do you treat all your guests this way," I pause, "or am I just special." My comment is meant to be biting, but he catches me by surprise -as always- when he laughs.

"You have always been special." I suppress a shudder. The Goblin King hasn't really changed at all. Ever still the enigma.

"What do you mean by that?" This causes him to laugh again. I frown and roll my eyes when I realize that it's at my expense. So, the mighty King thinks I'm stupid, does he? I'll show him stupid.

"My dear, dear Sarah," He says, moving closer to my prison. "I have lived for thirteen hundred years and seen a great deal of impossible things. But never once did I imagine I would see someone -a child, no less- solve my Labyrinth. An event like that would have too impossible, and yet here you are. Again." He sounds almost disappointed. I'm used to it.

"Sometimes, I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast." I reply coolly. The King gives me a blank stare. Thank you Lewis Carroll.

"That is an excellent practice." Fuck. How in the name of all that is sane did The Goblin King have access to Through the Looking Glass? I shook my head, refusing to be made a fool of.

"I suppose it's your own fault, Jareth." He cringes when I say his name like that. When I spit it out like it's a disgusting word. I don't think he likes it. Good. "Maybe if you built your little Hell trap better, I wouldn't have found my way through so easily." Jareth, who'd been avoiding my gaze since I said his name out loud, whipped around to glare at me. I gasped in shock as he reached out a gloved hand that ghosted easily through the metal bars to grab my wrist as though they weren't even there. I yelped softly when his grip tightened.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. All grown up and you still can't seem to hold your tongue." He let go of my wrist roughly and took a few steps back. "You haven't changed. Still spoiled, still a child." How dare he! He had no idea what I had seen because of him! I don't know why, but I saw red. I saw red and I backed up enough to get a good run in before I felt myself slam into the iron bars.

For the first time, the King of the Goblins looked as though he didn't know what to do. Now that was impossible. Jareth was always working one angle or another, ready to pull out a trick from up his heavily brocaded sleeve. But no, it could not be mistaken. A small flash of uncertainty, of fear crept into his gaze. It made me feel so good. So I did it again, and again, and then again. I wanted him to feel how I felt after years of kind words and empty eyes. I made impact again and it wasn't to long until he gave up.

He never said a single word to console me as I threw myself against my restraints time after time. He doesn't say a single world as he turns and leaves, exiting the same way he entered. I'm in the dark again, but I don't care, I don't stop. Again and again I crash into the metal bars at top speed until I can't feel the pain in my ribs anymore. I don't stop.

I can't stop.