One week later...
Jack's POV:
It had felt like forever since I woke up in Pitch's prison, but I knew it had only been a few days. I woke up bound to a brick wall by black tendrils. My head throbbed, my muscles ached and I was exhausted. I had slept for who knows how long, but nightmares had plagued my dreams. I'm not going to repeat what I saw.
Each time Pitch visited me in my cold, dark prison, I told myself the same thing. He's done enough. He won't hurt you again. Each time I was wrong. So horribly wrong.
Each day, Pitch came up with new ways to hurt me. He beat me with his staff, chained me to the floor and kicked me, ordered his fearling horses to bite me, gave me horrible nightmares, continuously told me how weak and forgettable I was, you name it. And I didn't have the strength to fight him off.
Each day brought more pain, more agony, more torture... but no Guardians. I was hanging onto the hope that the Guardians were searching for me, but that hope was wavering. Pitch could sense it too, and reminded me that no Guardians were coming for me. But I didn't believe him, of course. He was the Nightmare King, the boogieman, Pitch Black and my torturer.
My body was littered with cuts and bruises so that every movement pained me. My throat was raw and my voice is almost gone from the screaming I had done. On my right eye was a purplish-black blotch from when Pitch punched me in the face. My once white hair was now a matted ugly brown colour from the dried blood. My blue hoodie was stained with lots of blood and was in tatters from the fearlings' biting. My pants weren't much better.
I hung in my usual sleeping place, slumped against a musty brick wall, where my wrists were bound together by tendrils of darkness that dug into my sensitive flesh. I didn't have the strength to pull myself up, even though my arms pulsed to be freed. I couldn't help but wince at the bloody, possibly infected, cuts I saw between the holes in my pants.
I could hear footsteps approaching my prison and, despite knowing that it could never be them, I silently prayed it was the Guardians. But no, only the voice I dreaded spoke.
"Jack, you seem bothered..."
My eyes searched wearily for the source as I felt a shiver go down my spine. Then I found him, dressed in his usual flowing black robe and watching me with glowing golden eyes.
A smile pulled at his lips as he saw the pathetic state I was in, just like he always did. He absolutely relished the fact that I was so weak, trapped and scared. He savoured every scream and every cry he got out of me. It made me feel sick.
"Oh Jack, what's with the look? Not happy to see me?" His voice dripped with fake sympathy.
My scratchy voice shook as I managed an answer. "N-no one c-could b-be h-happy t-to s-see you..."
Pitch took a few paces closer to me. I pulled away, using the limited energy I had to get as far as I could. But there was nowhere to go. It was just brick wall behind me. Pitch smiled at my feeble efforts like he always did.
"Jack, you should know better then that." He reached out towards my face. His thin fingers with long, pointed nails crept around my cheek. I closed my eyes. I couldn't look at him anymore. I hated him. I didn't know that I could hate someone as much as I hated Pitch. I didn't know how much more torture I could take. I wanted to die, but I was an immortal. Could I even die?
"Look at me, Jack," Pitch said softly. I didn't move, my head still turned. I didn't want to look, not at the man who snapped my staff. "Look at me."
Pitch's POV:
Finally, he answered in his shaky voice. "N-no chance."
"Look at me," I said, firmer now. He didn't move, his head tilted down and away. I cupped his pale face and lifted it to face me. His eyes were squeezed shut like he was trying to block me out. That made me angry.
I wanted to see those innocent blue eyes. The ones he refused to show me. From the centuries that I lived for, I discovered that even the strongest person couldn't hide the fear in their eyes. No matter how hard they tried, their eyes were the true window to how they felt.
I caressed his cheek gently with my thumb, enjoying the feeling of the beaten boy tensing. I slid my fingers down his cheek then gripped his bruised chin tightly, earning a yelp of pain from him but he kept his eyes firmly closed. I dug my nails into his tender flesh and drew blood. He yelled in pain and his blue eyes flew open.
There it was. Those blue orbs quivered with fear. Jack's powerful fear.
He struggled in his restraints, trying to throw my hand off. More black sand appeared and secured him, holding him against the wall. I rubbed his new wounds, spreading a thin layer of blood on his cheeks and chin.
"You know it's pointless to fight it, Jack," I told the straining boy. "And you know what happens to winter spirits that don't behave."
Jack's eyes grew wide. "P-please n –"
But I had already willed his chains to tighten around his neck.
Jack's POV:
I choked and spluttered, clawing weakly against the constricting tendrils. Everything was going dark when the chains loosened around my neck. I collapsed at his feet, rolling onto my side and began sucking in air.
Pitch moaned above me. "Mm, Jack! I am constantly astonished at how addicting your fear is. I feel as if I could beat all four of the Guardians with only your fear. How ironic is that?"
I didn't reply. Could he actually be planning to use me against the Guardians? He prodded me in the chest with his foot roughly. "Jack! Answer me!"
I opened my mouth to answer, despite my protesting throat, but only a squeak came out. I couldn't speak. He had broken my voice. Would I ever sound like my old cheerful self again? Or was I doomed to a raw throat and scratchy voice?
"Aw, Jack, cat got your tongue?" Pitch asked. "I'll let you sleep on it. That voice better be fixed by the time you wake up. Your fear isn't as intoxicating without the screaming."
The sick bastard. Couldn't he see I'm in enough agony? Can't he see I'm humiliated enough? He just keeps going. Pushing me further and further. Just imagining what he wants me to be like when he's finished makes me shudder.
"W-wake up?" I rasped, my efforts sending my throat on fire.
"Yes, wake up, Jack. You're going into a little sleep."
I wanted to move, to fight back, to yell back, to do anything. But I couldn't. Every little movement hurt. I couldn't fight the black sand that was climbing towards me or stop it from wrapping around my nose and mouth.
Everything went black.
Tooth's POV:
It had been days since our fight with Pitch and his nightmares, and Jack was still missing. We had searched all over but there was no sign of him. Just thinking about what Pitch was doing to him sent a shiver up my spine.
All four of us had gathered in the pole again after an unsuccessful mission to find Jack.
"Nothing?" I asked North. He shook his head sadly.
"No sign of him," said Bunny.
I turned to Sandy hopefully, but he also shook his head. A pair of thumbs pointing down appeared over his head. I felt like crying. This wasn't fair! Jack was innocent and was only missing because of us. Why him?
North noticed my head droop. "We'll find him, Tooth. I promise."
"But our promises haven't been very genuine lately," I said tearfully. My fairies flew over to me, chattering in our special language.
"Look," said Bunny, "we need to address the elephant in the room here."
Sandy looked confused. An elephant appeared over his head next to a question mark. I nudged him.
"Not literally an elephant," I whispered. He mouthed oh and nodded. North winced, knowing that Bunny was talking about him.
"Bunny, can't we do this later?" North asked.
Bunny looked suddenly outraged. "No! We need to do this now, mate! Just tell us why you didn't say about Pitch's warning!"
I darted over to Bunny and placed my hand on his furry shoulder. 'Bunny, calm down."
"No, Tooth, I won't! North should have told us! If he did, maybe we would have been more prepared! Maybe...maybe Jack would still be here."
I wanted to disagree and defend North, but I knew Bunny was right. We would have been more prepared to fight Pitch if North had told us about the threat. Whatever Jack was going through... was North's fault.