“Jack!” a thickly accented voice called out the moment said guardian stepped out of the rabbit’s hole, “You made it!”
Pressing his thin lips together in an uneasy smile, the boy nodded at the Russian man clad in red.
Noticing his grim expression, North gently rested a giant hand of Jack’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Jack, everything will be fine.”
Light blue eyes downcast, Jack thought of (F/n) alone at her house. “I hope you’re right.”
You scooted backwards, nearly falling off the back of your bed. “I-I’m not afraid of anything!” you shouted diligently.
The shadowy figure chuckled. “Now we both know that’s a lie,” he told you, golden eyes narrowed and shining with humor. Black sand began forming a tall pile, slightly taller than you. The pile quickly took shape.
“Poor little (F/n),” the man cooed, watching the sand come to life, “He left you here, all alone.”
Eyes widening, you refused to tear your gaze from the sand. Mussed up hair, a thin hoodie, frayed pants, and a knotted shepherd’s crook.
“Jack,” you breathed, stepping closer to the illusion made by the King of Nightmare’s sand.
The silhouette of the man you felt such a deep connection to reached out a hand to you, the sand shifting slightly, and you reached back. It was a trick, you knew that Pitch was just trying to break you. Even still, you stretched for your fingers to brush against the familiar shape’s but, before your fingers could touch, the sand lost it’s shape, falling grain by grain into a pile that collapsed under it’s own weight.
You lunged forward, trying to save the image before it disappeared, but it was already gone. And, in its place, you found yourself in the grip of Pitch Black.
Wrists trapped in one of his gaunt hands, he kept you from breaking free as he jerked you closer to him ever so slightly. He leaned forward, malicious smirk spreading across his gaunt face.
“I think I just found what you fear most,” he sang, “And I am going to use that fear against you and the rest of the guardians until the day where everyone is afraid of the Boogeyman.” He hissed the name, shoving you roughly away.
“I have big plans for you, my dear. I hope you’re ready when I return.”
You landed once more on your bed and watched with strained breaths and wide eyes as the man began to dissolve into the shadows, ghostly pale face and demonic golden eyes the last things to disappear.
“Pleasant dreams, (F/n),” he said crisply before his dreadful laughter echoed throughout the room.
Curling up tightly around a small pillow, you tried to steady your shaky breath, hoping that Jack would come to save you soon, hopefully before the Boogeyman returned, bringing fear and despair with him.
“What are you afraid of?” His words echoed in your mind, clashing against the last words your little house-invader had left you with.
“I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
“He left you here.”
“You left me here.”
“He’ll be back,” you whispered to yourself, eyes staring emptily at the lamp by your bed, “he promised.”