~Cold and Dark~ Jack FrostXReader Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Spilled



A quiet, solemn breeze gnaws at your skin. In one hand, the essence orb sputters bile like a displeased child, and in the other, sweat flows down Jack's staff as you clutch it. Ripped from ice and snow, it looks like an ordinary old stick now, it's grainy, unpolished wood snapping at your raw palm. You clear your throat of rocks, your feet planted firmly against the aching metal of the cage. No backing out now.

"Pitch! I've done it!"

Your voice rumbles like crackling thunder against the bars, swishing back at you before dispersing into the abyss.
When it dies, the silence it leaves lingers like a monster eyeing its prey in the darkness. For the second time that day, you don't have to act scared to look it- your lip is raw from gnawing, and your hair practically shivers, split ends clawing at your cheeks.

"Piiiiitch!"
Your breath suddenly hitches as a gray hand latches onto your shoulder. The fingers purr like kittens, claws raking through the fraying knit of a day-antiqued Christmas sweater.

"I heard you the first time, dear. Patience is key."

Gulping, you sigh in relief as the hand disperses into dust. His touch is enough to make you want to crumble, and you know that one more second with him standing over you like that, and you would've.

"I'm glad you decided to cooperate," he says, now a large swish of ink in the air. You watch as he circles the cell, stopping to hover over Jack's feeble form. Splayed across the floor like he's been gruesomely broken, you have to hold back a beam of pride.

"So far, so good," you think to yourself, tearing at your lip. You hope by the end of this it'll still be intact and not completely lacerated from chewing.

A gust of frigid wind shoots through your bones as Pitch materializes fully, his gaze cast on Jack.
"Not so powerful anymore, are you?" You cringe as Pitch holds out his palm, ashes prancing on it like children's toys. A nightmare gallops off, parading towards Jack with slavering jaws. Resisting the urge to yell at him to run, you bite your tongue. The following taste of iron is like swamp water, and you struggle to keep your stomach.

"P...Pitch," Jack weakly mutters. Moving his hand slower than a snail across the fine layer of water now lining the cage, he looks weaker than you ever thought possible. Ripples cascade across and nudge your toes. It was a great idea on his part to melt the thin ice sheet that covered the floor, but the water didn't help your feet; you feel more waterlogged now than ever.

"You won't get..." Jack coughs hoarsely, peering through clouded eyes at Pitch's shifting, predatory slits. "...away with this."

"Oh, come now. That's what they all say."

You blink furiously as Pitch's shrouds kiss the water like an ocean burial, and his gaze now falls to you. What disparate fears creep in the malicious wells planted in his face, you don't want to know. Crumpling your fists, you try not to get lost in the maze inside of them.

"The orb, my dear."
His hand stretches for you. Trembling as if assaulted by another blizzard, you weakly mutter "here" and place it in his palm. He holds it aloft like a trophy, and his maniacal laughter devours the oxygen in the cage. "Thank you."

"W-what n-now?" Your voice sounds like a mouse to Pitch, squeaking and spewing worthlessness. His claws consume the orb in raking scratches; you fear what will happen should it break.

"Such beauty," he croons, completely ignoring you. Infatuated with it, he never peels his gaze away from the smooth surface. Your hair flops as you discreetly crane your neck to see behind Pitch's figure.The nightmare is now only inches away from Jack, and it's jaws are an open cavern rigged with stalagmites.

"Jack, now!" You think to yourself, but he doesn't even twitch. "What is he thinking?!"

"You know, I really expected both of you to put up more of a fight." Pitch steps closer to you, and for the moment, all thoughts of Jack are tossed aside. Cringing as his fingers nurse your wrist into a sickly ashen gray, you struggle not to break down into tears. "Especially from him."

"I-I knew it was best to cooperate," you stammer out.

"I find it amusing- how much you shrivel in fear."

"What...do you expect?" You try to tighten your vocal cords, but Pitch's presence melts them like iron ingots in a furnace. Never in your life have you felt so utterly hopeless- you can practically taste the blood that is sure to come.

"Nothing less. Doesn't change the fact that it is so...engrossing."

Mustering up what little courage remains in your waning reserves, you manage a sharp insult. "You're sick," you spit.

"Oh, what nice compliments you give me," he replies with a dusty laugh. Inwardly, you cringe at the fact that the opposite effect that was intended has taken hold. Maybe if you called him a rainbow-loving unicorn it would be better? Regardless, you are ripped from your thoughts as he slithers close to you, nestling your chin in the palm of his hand. His nails feel like knives threatening to take chunks from your flesh.
"I almost want to keep you..." Snatching your chin away from his grip, he recoils slightly, dramatic flair shining his lips as his features stretch into a feigned smile. How much longer must he cruelly castigate you like this? Even though it is far from discrete, you can't help but cast nervous glances Jack's way every few moments. Is he really...did something go wrong? You almost draw your nails up to your lips, but fear has petrified them in a magnetic field.

"However," Pitch continues, tossing the orb in his hand, "your maintenance is far too high. Looks like there's only one option left for you, sweetheart."

Horror snips at your heart as tendrils of ink begin to sweep down your back, hungry leeches fastening goosebumps into your skin. The cage around you rumbles with power, and you stumble to keep your composure from slipping through the bars and into one of the vacant, eager skeletons beyond. You bite your lip, but the rattle crippling your bones hurts so much, you can't help but cry out.
"What are you going to do to me?"

Not surprisingly, he ignores the words and hungrily digests your eyes- wide and emanating droves of nerves-instead. "Is Jack seeing this?", you wonder, watching your fingers grow pale from clutching your arms so tightly. As he may be your only hope now, this single thought tries to hammer through the ruckus of chaos and to the front of your mind. But it's hard to concentrate on when a cat is toying with your life like you're a ball of yarn to be unraveled, inch by painful inch, until all that's left of you is a memory. You try in vain to shove the dark thoughts back into oblivion.

"So, tell me." With Pitch now so close you can taste his rancid breath, you struggle to edge backwards, but something viscous clings to your feet- as if you've stepped in syrup. Afraid of what grotesque illusion may be below, you refuse to look.

As he draws ever nearer, Pitch's grin is so humorlessly sadistic, you feel puke climbing up the walls of your throat. Gross.
...on second thought, would throwing up on him be such a bad idea? In a moment, you scold yourself for such foolery. It would be a death sentence.  

"What," he continues, his fox grin consuming your trembling form, "is...your...greatest...fear?"

"Don't let yourself think," you mutter, grasping a wayward string on the sleeve of your sweatshirt.  "Don't let him know."
But even the notion of a nightmare is a good enough seed in the soil of this wretched place. Before you understand what's happening, you're watering the sprout like your life is rooted to it, and Pitch's orbs of shimmering dust are the sunlight. Suddenly, all is stiller than the grave. Enveloped in fear, you don't even realize that your eyes have screwed themselves into shuttered windows. "Is he...," you begin, gnawing at your chapped lips. "No. It's a trick. He wants you to look."

But fear is a tricky player. With your eyes closed, the world whistles taunts around you, and you can't see to defend yourself. "Defend yourself," your instincts plead. Unable to keep them closed any longer, they flutter open.

"There you go," Pitch laughs. Bouncing off of the walls of the cage, his voice dies into a deep rumble coming from the abyss below. Your head rocks back and forth to find him out, but he is nowhere and everywhere all at once. All-knowing, consuming, and convulsing- he is the darkness itself. What a fool you had been!

"C-come out, coward!"
You know that it's in vain. Pitch has pushed your pawn to the edge of a cliff, and he's about to slide you clean off the chessboard.

As if he can read your thoughts, the miscreant voice growls, "checkmate," and countless voiceless lemmings trace it. Suddenly, thousands upon thousands of eyes are staring at you and only you, crisp with yellow crust and narrowed at their prey through the bars. Gulping down your heart, you back up to the center of the cage, your desperation fighting through the petrifaction.

"You can't win Pitch!!!," you blurt, helplessly searching for words. Feet away from you, Jack still doesn't stir, and the nightmare is well upon him. It's paws rake against the metal through the water layer like dough, carving holes in the already tarnishing cell while it's jaws continue to thicken with hungry saliva.

"Oh, gosh," you mutter. Only one choice.

Gathering what strength remains, you glance around the darkness and try to avoid the billions of glowing eyes. "JACK, LOOK OUT!"

You resist the urge to sob as he finally glances up at you, his eyes widening when he sees how close the creature stalking over him is. Clenching his teeth, he propels himself off of the floor, creating an ice sheet that crackles with fragility under his touch. Are the nightmares really affecting him? Only a weak smile manages to cross his face.

"Jack," you cry. "Thank god you're o-"
Your voice is cut short as horror bites hard into your words. A desolate groan rocks the cage, and you swear you can hear the ticking of a clock. The dripping of sand in a precarious hourglass, the steady outflow of vigor from life's riverbed.

"What's the matter, Jack?" Pitch says, his ghastly features stretched into a sadistic grin as he stands behind the boy. Your knees threaten to buckle under the stress of seeing him like this, hanging as loosely as a rag doll in Pitch's grip.
"Think I didn't hear your little plan? I thought you were smarter than that."

Jack gasps as Pitch pulls away, shoving him to the ground in a grand splash ringing with the reverberations of rusted metal.  In the light of Pitch's eyes, you catch a glimpse of an ebony blade stained with ink and your face becomes ash. All you can do is stare at Jack- his face pale-blue and half-submerged in water- as the purity of the pool is tainted a deathly crimson that spreads wider by the second.
"_______?," he mumbles.