But your sleep didn’t last long, for only one short hour after the tears finally drying and your bloodshot eyes closing, you were awakened by a fierce nightmare.
Gasping, you jolted upright in your bed, (e/c) eyes searching for the mop of snow white hair that you knew you weren’t going to see. You licked your dry lips and tried to calm your breathing. “Oh, Jack,” you whispered to yourself, face stiff from the dried tears.
Drawing in a deep breath, you closed your eyes. “I am not afraid of the Boogeyman,” you told yourself, opening your eyes to the pitch black of your room.
“Hm, how cute,” a dry voice said, startling you, “But, if you can see me, that means you’re lying,” he sang, voice eerily quiet and sending shivers down your spine.
Reaching across your bed, you flicked on the lamp that would at least let you see whatever intruder was in your house. His gaunt, shadow-ridden face smirked at you from the darkness in the corner of your room, yellow eyes contrasting greatly to the sickly grey skin around them. Stepping closer into the light, you could see just how intimidating the man was with his tall, looming figure and his pure black cloak.
You swallowed, struggling to not show the fear you felt in your expression. “Who’s afraid of a man in a dress?”
His eyes flashed darkly, but another smirk soon curled his thin lips. “You’re voice is still shaking, (F/n).” He continued to approach your bedside, “But I’ll pretend to believe you.”
“Tell me,” he whispered, suddenly much closer to you then you had previously thought, “what are you afraid of?”