High school is great, except when it isn't. Four years of your life that are considered the foundation of your core development. Don't get me wrong, most aspects of it are nice. I love my education and my friends, the small few I have, and the busy hum of the seven hour days. Yet, I can't stand most of the people I go to school with. I am the last person to stereotype, but let me tell you, that building sees it all. The jocks are idiots, the cheerleaders are stuck up, you know, typical clichés. It's completely exhausting, especially if you're like me and you don't fit into any one group. I guess you could say I'm strange. I can get along with almost anyone, but I prefer to be alone. I can be sarcastic and cynical, or supportive and loyal when I need to be. I dislike sports, which of course makes me stand out against ninety percent of the school. I love the arts and literature, particularly anything relating to horror or romance. Notice a trend? So far, I'd gone through three years of Hell, and I needed a break from the craziness that surrounds school life.

Thank God it was summer. The warm days where the sun shines down on my skin and the sky was a cloudless blue. No school, no drama. Just relaxing and doing all the things I love to do. Hanging out with friends, watching movies, reading, writing. I'm seventeen, what could be better than this? I thought, walking down the street toward my house with my dog, Artemis. Named after the Greek goddess of the moon and the hunt, the black and white husky yelped happily at my feet. I looked up into my bedroom window, seeing my cat Aphrodite licking her paws out of boredom. Her mocha and white colored fur pressed against the screen, making me worry for her safety in case the window gave out from her weight.

I ran inside with Artemis, bolting up to my room and pulling my cat from the narrow ledge, placing her on the bed. Seeing that she was safe, I walked over and closed the window, before returning to the mattress and running my fingers through her long fur. I placed a kiss on her head before running back down the stairs.

I walked into the kitchen, hearing my cat and dog following me, clearly expecting to be fed. I rolled my eyes, opening a nearby cabinet and pulling out a bag of cat food. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something peculiar move on the opposite side of the kitchen. Frowning, I slowly shut the cabinet door and looked around, trying to find the source of the movement. Whatever it was had been tall. A dark shadow that flickered across my vision. My gaze scanned the kitchen thoroughly, but the only other beings with me were Artemis and Aphrodite. Even though I had the summer off, my mom was still working, so she couldn't have been what I had seen. A chill ran from the base of my spine to the top of my neck, causing me to shiver. I had the distinct feeling something or someone was watching me, but the room was practically empty.

Shrugging the occurrence off, I returned my attention to the animals, refilling their food and water bowls. Then I strode back over to the fridge, retrieving a cold soda from the top shelf and walking into the living room to watch tv. Nothing exceptionally amazing was on, just some crappy, B-acting movies made by low budget companies. I sighed, deciding to turn to A Nightmare on Elm Street, the only good film on at that point in time. Listening to the sounds of characters shrieking in fright, I opened my phone to see a text from my best friend, Jade. I hardly had time to read it before I felt a rush of wind come from behind me, causing my hair to fan out abnormally.

Startled, I quickly sent a reply and looked over my shoulder. Nothing. The windows weren't open and the air conditioning was off for the moment. A foreboding feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Something weird was definitely going on, but what? I waited for a few more moments, expecting someone to pop up out of the kitchen or from the staircase. But they didn't. I turned back toward the tv, but used the remote to turn the volume down so I could hear what was going on around me. Aphrodite padded around the corner of the couch, stretching her legs as she pranced in front of me. I patted my lap, urging her to jump up into it. She did so, lazily yawning and curling up across my legs. I bit my lip, stroking the cat quietly as I listened for another noise.

Nearly half an hour passed before I finally relaxed, brushing everything off as a figment of my imagination. I had just listened to some scary stories on my phone when I was on my walk with Artemis. My senses were simply on edge for the time being, and my subconscious was allowing my mind to run wild.

My mother got home a few hours later, but no more incidents had transpired, so I quickly returned to my generally calm attitude. We ate dinner together and exchanged stories about our day, though I left out the odd occurrences, and then watched some Game of Thrones before she needed to go to bed.

Fully satisfied and tired, I went up to my room as soon as the episode was off, changing into a set of shorts and a tank top. Grabbing my laptop and earbuds, I crawled under my sheets and laid on my stomach, placing the computer on the mattress in front of me. My bedroom was dark, the only light came from the illuminated LCD screen in front of my eyes, and the smaller face of my cell phone at my side. I sighed, stretching my muscles to get them to pop. One earbud hung loosely in my left ear in preparation of a The Walking Dead marathon. Hitting play on the first episode, I settled in more comfortably, watching the beginning credits roll onto the screen.

Minutes rolled by, and I slowly immersed myself into the fictional world of zombies once again. At least, until I felt a type of pressure on the end of the bed, near my feet. I froze. My bedroom door was closed, and I knew for a fact that neither of my animals had followed me into the room. That wasn't even taking into consideration the fact that the weight of whatever was at the end of my bed was much more than that of Aphrodite or Artemis when they jumped up beside me. I swallowed thickly, unable to move, fearing that any movement would provoke whatever was there to attack. I pretended to ignore the shift in position, keeping my eyes glued to the events on-screen.

Another tremble went down my spine as I felt a cool finger glide across the skin of my bare shoulders. Closing my eyes, I pursued my lip to keep from making a sound. Cold air swept over my neck, as if someone was blowing on my skin, and I could feel something brush against the shell of my ear. I wanted to scream. To whimper. Anything to get away from whatever this was. I couldn't tell if I was awake or dreaming, for if it was a dream, it must surely be a nightmare.

As if on cue, a soft, dulcet voice captured my attention. "That's it my dear...embrace the fear..." The words rolled off the being's tongue like snakes slithering across a marble floor. The tone was familiar, and it took me a second to realize who was in my bedroom with me. It all made sense. The shadows, the noises, the fear. "Pitch Black. I thought the Guardians had done away with you..." I managed, releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding. A dark chuckle came from my right, before a set of glowing gold and silver eyes filled my vision. Taken aback, I flinched at the sudden visual, then forced my racing heart to calm itself. "Very good...I'm so glad you recognized me..." I could hear the smirk in the Nightmare King's voice. It was a hard one to forget, especially after hearing it practically your whole life.

I remember the first time the Boogeyman visited me. I couldn't have been more than four or five years old, the darkness filling my bedroom just as it did in this moment. The small night light in the corner did nearly nothing to aid my sight, but interestingly enough, I wasn't too scared of the dark. Until the fateful night Pitch Black called upon me. I remember his eyes, intense and a frightening contrast to the dark open space in the opposite corner of the room. I watched the tall form slide out of the shadows, slinking ever closer, and just staring down at me. We just gazed at one another, until I finally fell asleep. That night was the first time I can recall having a bad dream, that one entailing a horde of angry clowns chasing me. They had sharp teeth and carried ripped stuffed animals, which to the child version of myself was quite frightening. I never wanted to go to a circus after that, and clowns still make me uncomfortable to this day.

As the nights turned into years, the nightmares got worse. They took darker turns, scarier, more disturbing. On more than one occasion I awoke in the middle of the night with sweat dripping down my body as I relived the events of my dreams. I quickly made the connection that this man, this creature of the night, was the reason they happened, because whenever he was there, I had a nightmare. I didn't always see him, but I could feel the presence of the Boogeyman. The nameless entity of darkness.

When I got into my teens, things slowly began to change. My friends, who had long since stopped believing in the Boogeyman, were no longer visited by him. Yet, he still came to me, though perhaps not as often. The only reason for this that made sense to me was that I knew he was real. He wasn't just a figment of my imagination. I began to feel a pull toward the dark. Things that had once frightened me were now sources of interest and entertainment. I began to love horror movies, enjoy scary stories. By the time I was fourteen, there was a drastic shift in my perspective when it came to the Nightmare King. Something about him captivated me. Something in his eyes. They were so different, so lonely. And, I'm ashamed to admit, I found his nightly visits strangely thrilling, and I began to look forward to them. I wanted to see him. To hear his voice. That seductive, accented, silky tone he spoke with. This man sparked an odd curiosity, a fascination within me that I couldn't get rid of, even though I knew it was one I should ignore.

Not long after, I became Jamie Bennett's babysitter. I never was able to discount any of his fairytale or mythical beliefs. Not in the Easter Bunny, or Santa, or even the Tooth Fairy, because then I would be discrediting all my life experiences with the Boogeyman. Weird, I know. A seventeen year old that still believes in childhood fantasy. However, just a few weeks back, right after Easter, the belief paid off, because I witnessed Jamie literally flying out of his bedroom with whom he later informed me was Jack Frost. The next morning I was meant to come over to babysit him for his parents, and the energetic child quickly informed me of what all had transpired. He even validated my ideas of the Nightmare King, giving me a true name to match with the face. Pitch Black.

After hearing the account of that fateful night, I hadn't heard or seen any sign of Pitch Black. Jamie believed he had been destroyed, though I wasn't too sure. There was a feeling inside of me that told me he wasn't gone. Not completely. And apparently I was right. Here he was, in the flesh and gazing at me with the same hypnotic golden-silver eyes he always had. "How long has it been, child? A month? Three?" He whispered. I sat up, no longer as scared, and moved the laptop from in front of me. I leaned to my left, pulling on the chain of my lamp.

A dim yellow glow filled the room, and surprisingly, Pitch remained. I was given my first exceptionally clear view of the Nightmare King, watching as he moved to my nearby desk chair and sat himself upon it as if it were a throne. "Two," I answered his question cautiously, trying to figure out what kind of game he was playing. We had rarely spoken, mostly because I was always so surprised by his presence that I couldn't speak, and by the time I could, he would disappear. One side of his mouth turned upward, his eyes still boring into mine. "How sweet. You've kept track...Miss me?" His tone was almost mocking. I rolled my eyes. "Don't flatter yourself." I groaned, crossing my arms. The dark figure rose a brow. "I've forgotten how feisty you are, darling. I must say...I've missed it." He smiled, white teeth gleaming in the lamplight. King of Fear? Ha. Right...Not so scary now...just...sort of...sexy... I thought, before my eyes widened and I cursed myself for thinking that way about him. "I'm glad. I must say, I've missed having nightly heart attacks as well." I smirked, watching his eyes widen in surprise of my tone which was a cross between serious and sarcasm.

A moment of silence passed as we watched each other, waiting for the other person to make a move or speak. Finally, Pitch sighed and looked at his feet, and I realized he looked very worn. Beaten. Broken. The Guardians had truly done a number on him. His presence even seemed less powerful than usual. "What do you want Pitch? I know what happened. Jamie told me. So why are you here?" I questioned him. Part of me was intimidated by asking these questions to such a mysterious man, and the other part was so full of genuine interest, and even concern, that I knew I should say something. Pitch returned his attention to me, appearing to be calculating his reply. After a second, he got to his feet, carefully taking a step closer to me. I eyed him anxiously, still waiting for something bad to happen. I might feel a little bit of sympathy for him, but I knew Pitch wasn't a victim either. He was manipulative and cold, and not someone to trust right away.

Still, it was strange for someone like him to be visiting me in such a way. As if we were old friends seeking solace in one another. "I'm not quite sure yet, my dear. You see, your Guardians believe they have won. That they have beat me. And they have. But today, something drew me here. To you. Don't ask me what, for I do not know. I have my suspicions though..." He glanced outside at the moon. "You see, I am not unlike those goodie goodies, the Guardians, that you and all children endear so much, at least in the sense that I need to be believed in to be strong. And you, dear Anara, seem to be the only one left who believes in me without a shred of doubt." He explained, looking back down at me. I felt my cheeks flame up in embarrassment. I had a bad feeling about this conversation and where it would lead. "Okay, so I believe in you. I know you exist. So why are you here now?" I interrupted. A smirk formed across his face again, giving the man a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Don't you see, darling? I need you, and you need me." He said. My eyes widened. "I don't need-" I began, but he cut me off. "Yes, you do need me. You don't have to admit it, I already know. I know much about you, mostly your fears. I've seen how you've been hurt, and I can honestly say I know how that feels..." He trailed off, and I actually believed he was telling the truth. And as much as I hated to admit it, I had had a rough few years. I never confided in my mom or friends, mainly because I didn't want to worry them.

Perhaps Pitch would be a good stress relief, as ironic as that sounds. "And? What are you saying?" I asked. Pitch turned toward me fully, placing his fingertips together. "I am offering to make a deal with you, darling. You will allow me to gain my strength back from you. In order to do that, I must be around you quite often. Even in the single day I have been following you, you've already helped me a great deal, without knowing of course, but it was help all the same. You tolerate my presence for some time, and in return I will be your protector from all who wish you harm or malice." He said. One of my eyebrows raised. "Says the Boogeyman who has given me nightmares since I was a kid." He shrugged. "Part of the job dear, nothing more. I harbor no ill will toward you. In fact, I will even stop the nightmares, so long as you continue to believe in me...Do we have a deal?" He asked, coming closer. We were practically touching at this point.

Slowly I got to my feet, thinking about what to do. It was probably a bad idea to trust Pitch Black, of that I was sure. But in reality, what harm could it do? The Guardians already proved themselves to be stronger than Pitch, even when he had full power. What could this little bargain do to hurt them, especially when it was mutually beneficial for both of us? Besides, it could be nice to have the Nightmare King as an ally instead of an enemy. And I would be an idiot to pass up the chance on possibly getting to know the mysterious man in front of me. "Very well, Pitch Black. You've got yourself a deal." I answered. The gleam in his eyes brightened, and I felt a large hand take my own. Pitch raised my hand to his mouth in the old fashioned, customary way of greetings or farewells, and pressed his lips to it, bowing slightly at the waist. Another blush ran up my neck, feeling how surprisingly warm and soft his hands were, his long fingers encompassing my own. "Then it's a deal. Pitch Black is at your service, child. I'm sure our time together will be...glorious..." He smiled, and as our eyes met once more, I felt an unusual pull in my chest, a tingling sensation that seemed to bubble up out of nowhere. What did I just agree to?

Without another word, the Nightmare King released my hand and backed away, disappearing into the shadows in the corner of my bedroom. I watched him go, unmoving, until I was positive that he had disappeared. A few minutes passed, and the presence in the room faded as well. Taking a shaky breath, I climbed back into my bed and turned out the light, placing my laptop on my bedside table. I pulled the covers back over my body and curled up, drifting off to sleep rather easily. And for once, I did not have a nightmare, even though Pitch Black had visited me.