Hey, guys~ These chapters are likely going to be pretty short, so I apologize for that if you prefer lengthy ones. Not really sure where I'm going with this stuff, but hopefully you enjoy the ride regardless.
The first few days in my black sand prison, devoid of light, I'd spent in utter confusion and the beginnings of fear. I was fed, I had a small bathroom. Other than that, I was left alone. I had been a social child. Being alone had cost a lot. But I hadn't been totally alone. The horses – no, nightmares, for they weren't truly the majestic creatures I'd grown up drawing – came in every once in a while. They'd practically melt from the hardened sand walls as if they were able to simply pass through. I would be startled by their appearance at first, but quickly found comfort in the fact that they wouldn't hurt me.
The nightmares seemed to sense my lack of fear. With their duties failed, they had no choice but to leave me on my lonesome some more. It was when I slept that they found the upper hand.
There would always be these voices in my head. Whispering. Taunting. The dreams would start off real enough – Pitch had obviously learned that I wasn't the type to fall for the blatantly scary dreams as I couldn't begin to fathom them as reality – and I'd think myself back home with friends enjoying myself. We'd be playing games, laughing. And suddenly, they'd all leave me alone. I'd call their names. They'd smile with an expression that was too mean-spirited to really be considered a smile and then they'd walk away, ignoring all my attempts to call them back.
'They don't want you. You're not good enough for them.' Pitch's voice would taunt me endlessly. For a while, it was easy enough to ignore. As his planted nightmares became more elaborate, however, I started to believe him.
Months had passed – I'd kept count by marking a line through the hardened sand walls based on my meals – before he started in on my belief of the Guardians. Why he'd waited so long, I can't know for sure. But it was a good tactic, wearing me down first. It worked. Not right away, but eventually.
'They would certainly be here to save you if they existed, no? The Guardians live for children! You don't really think they'd leave a good girl like you to suffer like this, do you?' I'd denied it for a while. Fervently, I fought for their honor. For the memory of beings I'd never seen. But I believed. With all of my heart, I knew they had to be real. They weren't saving me because they didn't know! That was all.
'Don't they know when you're sleeping? When you're awake?' I'd hated that he made it sound so logical. As if all the dreams, wonder, hope, and memories I had as a child were being made null and void.
When finally I told him they didn't exist, he started in on me more brutally. Perhaps because he sensed I didn't mean it. Because I still believed in them despite their absence. Maybe because he needed at least one child to believe in him and him alone.
Physical pain was a powerful motivator. It helped me forget what I believed after long enough. Names like Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and Easter Bunny became a distant memory. A laughable attempt at comfort compared to the agony that was Pitch Black.
Either on days he was busy doing other things or just bored from his games with me, I was left to my own devices inside my prison. He'd left books for me after days of 'vast improvement,' he called it. I devoured them all. Every bit of information, I gleaned like a starved animal would gristle on the bone. I was hungry for something other than pain and darkness. Anything else. And the science books, they were like gold to me. Coveted more than my meager meals or the short snatches of sunlight I was allowed.
But today was different. Today, he had time for me.