First, the picture up above, is multiple shots of Jack's wrist from the movie. I'm searching to see if I can find any more. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you I_Love_Jack_Frost_13 for bringing it to my attention.
And, comment what Jack means to you.
To me, he's a representation of the light after the storm. He shows that even though things can get really bad, they do get better. It's just kind of sad that the teenage boy who represents fun itself, was so sad he hurt himself.
Message me lovlies if you need, or want. I love getting messages from you guys.
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He felt truly lost.
It was dark, the moon hidden behind an array of grey clouds.
Jack stared up at his ceiling, yes, this was when he felt most alone.
Manny never spoke to him.
Memories of the past three centuries danced over his head, taunting him, teasing.
He wouldn't cry.
He wouldn't let himself.
"They don't care about me" he choked "I wish I wasn't a guardian."
He pulled himself out of bed, walking over to the wall.
The winter spirit took a deep breath, closing his hand into a fist as he did.
He smashed it against the wall, creating a fist sized crater.
Bliss ran through him as blood trickled down his knuckles.
He punched the plaster again, tip his time with his left fist, and moved between them until there was eight decent sized holes.
"Jackson, are you okay? Can I come in?"
Jack let the tears overflow from his eyes.
A cut for crying, for being weak.
"Come in" he whimpered, and the door creaked open, the light flicking on and blinding him momentarily.
"Oh my gosh, your hands, Jack, what did you do?"
The winter spirit shrugged, him mind blank, and eyesight blurring.
"Hun, come her."
Jack nodded, stumbling to his feet and over to Tooth, who pulled him into an embrace.
"Let's go get this cleaned up, yeah?"
Jack nodded again, not trusting himself to talk and not blab out all his secrets.
Within moments, they ended up in the infirmary, Tooth prepping a ball with peroxide, grabbing a tiny fistful on cotton swabs, dipping one in the dish and bringing it up to Jack's injured knuckles.
He winced.
That's a cut for being weak.
That made two now.
"I know it stings."
Jack let out a cry of pain, instantly regretting it.
That was a sign of weakness.
What was wrong with him today?
He couldn't even stop himself as more tears spread down his cheeks, like waterfalls, causing Tooth to hurry up with the peroxide, sweeping it over his hands before grabbing the gauze from the cupboard above her and beginning to wrap the winter spirit's hands boxer style.
She started at the second joint in his fingers, from the nail, and began weaving the soft fabric downwards, avoiding his thumb and wrapping it twice around the base of his wrist.
