Twisted Frost -- Discontinued

Chapter 8

Jack's P.O.V.

The feel of Pitch's hands on my skin was soothing and familiar. The biting tone of his voice, the way he gripped me too hard on purpose. It was a familiar misery.

"How the hell did you fail? They were right there." He shouted and slapped me, sending my head snapping to the side. 

I held back a smile at the taste of blood filling my mouth, "They're much more resourceful than you give them credit for." I answer, trying to keep the snark out of my voice. 

Pitch stabs the needle into my skin, sewing up my wound. When he finishes I think the wound is bigger than before. "Freeze that up, it'll heal faster. I'll be right back." He starts to stalk off and then stops, turning back, "You disgust me," he says with a curled lip, "failure is unacceptable. Apparently I haven't taught you well enough. We'll have to fix that." 

I grimace slightly at Pitch's words. A 'lesson' usually means pain for me. I look down at an unfamiliar motion in my field of vision. I see my pale hand shaking. I furrow my brows, grabbing onto it with the other hand. 

Pitch walks in and I can't help the involuntary flinch that runs across my body. He sets a brisk pace, stalking up to me and quickly dosing me with a sedative. I feel my eyes droop and I look at Pitch's face happily. This is familiar, this brings Pitch joy. And I would do anything to please him. 

********

This dream world Pitch creates is dark and empty. The perfect place for fear to brew. He paces circles around me from my place on the floor. 

"Now Jack, I thought we'd discussed this. How is it you feel about the guardians?"

I flinch at the sound of that name and reply, "They are repulsive and every one of them deserves to die." I smirk a little to myself, knowing I've given the right answer. 

Pitch clucks his tongue and turns to me with a dark smile, "Wrong. You see, I know you still care about them somewhere in that cold cold soul." He sighs and shakes his head, feigning disappointment. 

That hurts worse than any physical pain. Pitch made me. He is all that I am. Disappointing him is crippling. I look down, ashamed of this attachment, hating the part of me that cares. 

Pitch hums, flicking a hand, pulling me up from the floor with a thick chain made from nightmare sand. It bites at my wrists and I flinch as I hear Pitch forming the long and very familiar whip. It's his favorite. 

"We'll just have to make you see the truth ... that the guardians don't care, that they don't love you and never will ... that I am your only hope in this world. I mean, look around Jack ... I'm the only one here trying to help you. Why won't you let go of this affinity for the guardians?" 

I yelp as he brings the first blow down onto my back. The pain echoes terribly throughout my body and I realize that he's teaching me inside my mind and outside as well. The second blow bites away at my hoodie, leaving my pale and tender flesh exposed. 

"Remember Jack, the guardians are doing this to you. They'll always cause you pain." 

Pitch repeats the phrase as he lands blow after blow, leaving me screaming in agony with tears trailing down my face. I deserve this. I deserve every second of it. Because the guardians are evil, terrible beings ... and they caused this ... and the pain will never go away until they're dead.