Amelia

Two weeks later:

In the early days of our marriage, it never would have occurred to me that death do us part. This age old vow repeated through time. And it seemed death had finally parted us.

Now, standing before Ben's mourners, that reminder began to surface. My parents, Joyce and Felix, stood with me as Ben's body was lowered into the ground. Noah, dressed in a suit, swallowing back tears, leaned into the protective curve of my arms, clutching me as though I was the only thing keeping him alive. My brother, John, stood apart from us, his face bewildered and lost. He was accompanied by Gavin, a family friend who we'd known for years. Standing the furthest back was my neighbour, Mrs Bennett, with her two children, Jamie and Sophie, who'd arrived to pay their respects. She turned away after she caught Gavin watching them.

No one can change this, I thought. There's nothing we can do to bring Ben's soul home.

I wept heavily and took a step forward in spite of Noah squeezing my hand, my face streaming with tears. Noah must have felt my sobs because he responded by embracing me. I raised my head and saw that my child was still crying. There wasn't time for sadness.

When it was over, I invited the guests back to my house. We ate, spoke and at one moment I glimpsed out of the window where Jamie and Sophie sat with Noah in the garden. I didn't know what they were saying, but Jamie was making flying motions with his hands while Sophie drew snowflakes into a solitary patch of snow. The Bennetts were looking up at the fence, like they were speaking to something that simply was not there. That was the moment Noah scrunched his nose and giggled, almost like something was nipping at it. What he was giggling at, I might never know.

My mind rolled back to the first time I woke up to the empty side of the bed. In the two weeks before Ben had been laid to rest, there was something else I had realised, some absent form of lurking comfort. It was said that after someone died, sensing their presence was not uncommon. Perhaps Ben was reaching out to me. The very thought of that filled me with an instant satisfaction. The reason it had occurred to me now was simple enough: I missed him, but the thought of it was already adding to theories in my mind that were, in my opinion, clearly absurd. Noah once suggested the return of spirits might have actually been true, after telling me he was convinced one of them had visited us in hospital.

Darkness came and carried me off to sleep. I did not dream. This time, the contentment flickered out and when I turned so that I was laying on my side, the touch of a hand against my hair chilled me to the bone.

"Ben?"

The touch was gentle, tender, just like his. And I knew I really did feel something. Afterwards, there was the faintest creak of a board, creaking the way old boards do for no reason at all. But to me it was something more – something unnatural – in that noise.

"Ben."

His name rolled off my tongue with no thought and I told myself: if it's not him, who or what else could it be?

There it was again: the slow gentle caress on my face, like a man's fingers.

The ticking of the clock illuminated the hands that read 3:00am and a cloud drifted away from the moon, letting in the light. For a moment, I remained perfectly still, dismissing the illusion of what I believed to me the moon glimpsing at me with old eyes in a wise face.

Go back to sleep, I told myself.

Some people thought that when you couldn't achieve that, you should hope there was a greater chance at distracting yourself. And before I could change my mind, I was already heading downstairs, and without giving Noah the chance to wake up to my absence, I ventured towards the clearing. The night sky emitted a welcoming presence, a strange contrast compared to the darkness of the woods. After ten minutes, I stopped at an empty field of grass.

"Amelia."

I leapt back, my heart hammering violently inside my throat. The voice took on a seductive, velvety quality and spoke with a strong British accent.

"I won't hurt you."

I shook my head and glimpsed towards the forest. When it finally occurred to me that my son was alone in the house, I felt my stomach turn to ice.

"Don't be afraid."

I opened my mouth and said, "That voice. It's familiar."

It felt like the trees were closing in and right then, I wondered if I was really alone. When I peered down at the jagged marks and fragments of splintered wood and the neighbouring hole in the ground, I froze when the light from my phone torch was eaten by the dark. My throat went dry, but I managed to check the gun was still in my pocket. I'd made a promise to myself to return it, so it would be like it never disappeared. Or rather, stolen. Could I really spend another three months resisting the urge to take something that didn't belong to me?

The drop was further than I initially thought and my ankle made a sickening click when I landed on all fours. I didn't know why I was here, or where 'here' even was. From my spinal cord, a twenty-eight-year-old network of nerves, a black dread emanated in waves. Then the audible creak of a door snapped me to life. Tension wormed its way into my veins and I clenched my fists. Maybe I wasn't alone after all. Maybe Ben was right by my side.

Walking through the dark, alone, was probably the hardest thing I'd done in my life. Right then, my mind conjured up what unlikely creature might be walking amongst my presence – what creature, what spirit. Perhaps something was peering at me with yellow reptilian eyes. And perhaps one night of them watching me wouldn't be enough; perhaps one night whatever was lurking would forget to close the window, and what I would see floating there might drive me into madness at one glimpse. And I couldn't explain it to anyone.

I mounted the steps, one by one, avoiding the moonlight where I might be seen. The basic ingredients of hell, I mused. Thousands of cages hanging and abandoned. I looked up at them.

This place was cold. The wind made its presence and from that moment, in the dark, I believed. I believed everything. A scream rose in my throat and it remained, unspoken, but the gun felt heavy in my right hand. It felt heavy when I brought it up and pulled the trigger.

"Hello, Amelia."

A chill that had nothing to do with the near freezing air rattled down my back. He chuckled.

"I must confess, this is certainly intriguing. An adult that can hear me, something I wouldn't expect. I'm actually rather flattered."

"Who's there?"

There was a pause before he replied, "I'm Pitch Black. You may have heard of me."

I said nothing.

"You'd probably remember me as the Boogeyman."

An empty chuckle made its way out of my throat and I kept my fingers resting over the trigger.

"This is insane."

"You think so?"

"You're a story."

Pitch's eyes remained fixed on the gun which I pointed at his chest.

"That won't hurt me." He didn't give me the chance to continue. "You know, considering it must have taken a lot of power, I'm grateful that you revived me."

The moment he came into the light, I felt my stomach drop. There was something in his eyes, I realised, remarkably gold – the way they differed from his skin and hair – that made me pause. He was painfully alluring and didn't look older than forty.

"What?"

"You don't have to be scared, Amelia."

"I'm not scared of you."

"Perhaps not. But there's one thing I understand: because of the crash you've become afraid of losing your son. I was the one who pulled you and Noah from the wreckage."

"Thank you," I began, "But you didn't have to do that."

"It didn't matter. I owed you."

"For what?"

"Saving me."

I smiled, but then my expression grew serious. The wind picked up again, as though understanding what I was going to say next.

"Ben's dead because of me."

"Amelia."

"If I hadn't been speeding, he'd still be alive."

"You mustn't blame yourself." Pitch spoke in a soothing, gentle tone. "It's not entirely your fault."

"Which means?" I snapped, without meaning to.

"Let me explain," Pitch said, "The night Ben died, when you saw Jamie sledding in the road, he wasn't alone."

"What do you mean 'wasn't alone?'"

"I know this might be difficult for you to believe, but Jack Frost was there."

I scoffed. "Jack Frost?"

"He's real, Amelia. And so are the others."

"Wait a minute, what others?"

"Who do you think?"

I ran my hands over my face. "So, you're saying that Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman and the Easter Bunny – they exist too."

He nodded.

"Why are you telling me this?" I went on.

"Because they're unaware I've returned." Something unspoken passed between the two of us:

And it's better if it stays that way, his expression read.

"The night in the car… are you saying that…?"

"Jack Frost is the one to blame. He makes a mess wherever he goes. That's why he did it before. He's a reckless boy who doesn't think before he acts."

A note of resentment crept into Pitch's tone. I looked at him wordlessly. There seemed to be no more on the topic to say.

Pitch added, "I know about the kleptomania."

At that, I felt my pulse climbing. He gave a little laugh and continued speaking without a moment's hesitation.

"You seem to be forgetting that I always know people's greatest fears. Yours is that it won't ever go away."

But it did once, I nearly said, When Ben was alive.

I glared at him.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Course I do. You're Amelia Ryan. You'll always been a kleptomaniac, no matter what you do. That's why you've reverted again. How many people have tried to help you over the years? How many times have you pushed them away? If the Guardians knew, they still wouldn't help you. Why? Because you're an adult. Adults aren't supposed to believe in us. Unlike a child… but that's obviously changed. If you want me to be honest with you, Jack Frost might be the least of your worries." He began circling me as the words rolled off his tongue, and when I opened my mouth to answer he managed to speak first. "Noah saw me when I came into the hospital."

"Did you frighten my son?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

"I didn't have to."

"Is that the only time you've come near us?"

"No," Pitch admitted.

On the opposite wall stood the other shadow: the professional psychologist waiting for answers. I felt my spine crawl.

"You came into my room," I realised.

"The reason I did that, was to make sure you were all right."

I put my hands to my face and realised I was crying.

"You were watching me sleep! How is that not creepy?"

"Amelia."

I didn't respond.

"Amelia." Gently, Pitch pulled my hands away from my face. "I know it can't be easy for you, but as someone who believes in you, believe in me when I tell you that it's all right to be afraid. That's why you never let Noah anywhere near that pond, in fact you've barely let him out of your sight. As a mother, you've done everything you can to keep him safe. And the kleptomania, that's something only you can control."

"It's been three months since I last had a problem," I admitted, "And how do you know so much about parenting?"

He dismissed my words and gave a little chuckle again.

"You remind me of something I did a long time ago."

"Which is?"

"After the Man in the Moon choose to replace my fear with the Guardians' hopes, dreams and their wonder I wanted them, especially Jack, to understand how it felt to be cast out with no one left to believe in you. Because Jack knew how that felt for a long time, I tried to get him on my side. He didn't want to be feared and in short, all of them defeated me. I only ever wanted to be believed in. And four years later, here we are." Pitch released a dry chuckle. "Here we are."

I decided that trusting him might be a terrible idea. I didn't need his opinions about the Guardians because I already knew without completing my judgement that Pitch and them weren't exactly on the best of terms. They say that a person's eyes were the window to the soul and Pitch's expression was one I'd seen on my patients too many times before.

I was so involved in my own thoughts that I never noticed a horse's silhouette lurking right behind me until the heel scuffed and the dark form emerged. For a moment my mind was too stunned to recover my wits; it was busy processing at what I first failed to understand was animated black sand. The golden eyes marked the shape in detail that was wild and rogue, making deep nickering sounds in and out of its nose.

"What–" was all I managed to say.

The horse moved closer. The eyes fixed. I could hear its breath nickering in and out.

"Onyx, no!"

I missed the warning, and while I was still trying to process it, several others gathered on the path behind me. I knew nothing of the attack and didn't even register it until I was knocked to the ground. Pitch could do nothing but watch me fall, and froze when my head hit the wall with a hard and heavy thud.

Then everything turned black.