The Monday following my miniature break down arrived quickly, and I found myself flanked by Jade, Ashlyn, and even Pitch. Jade and her friend could not see the Nightmare King this time, nor could anyone else that passed me as I made my way up the concrete stairs that led into my high school. Pitch had decided to accompany me to hear what would be done about the incident, my invisible support as I walked into Mr. Winborne's office. I knocked three times on the solid red door, causing Mr. Winborne to look up at me over his dark rectangular glasses. "Miss Rose, Miss Jenkins, Miss McKenna." He greeted myself, Jade, and Ashlyn respectively. "How can I assist you today?" He offered, gesturing toward the chair in front of him. I moved toward the seat and placed myself on the edge, clasping my hands in my lap as I met the dark eyes of the man before me.

Mr. Winborne was nearly a doppelganger of Morgan Freeman, an actor I admired in many ways. But the similarities were more than appearance. Both were humanitarians and advocates for equality. Many believed both to be even tempered and open to listening to all sides of an argument, and always willing to help people whenever they can. Even he joked that they were alike, down to the tone of their voices. "You seem troubled Miss Rose, can I help with something?" His deep voice reflected genuine concern. "Yes sir. I-I came to report a case of cyberbullying, or rather, a number of instances of it." I explained. He raised an eyebrow at me, my statement earning his full attention. "Please, tell me more." He encouraged me. "Priscilla and her friends, but mostly Priscilla, are bullying people in the halls, outside of school, and online. She has been targeting most of us for a while, but everyone ignores her because they feel threatened by her. I never said anything before because I thought I could endure whatever she put me through until I graduated..." Mr. Winborne looked at me with a disappointed gaze, and I knew it was because he thought I should've come to him sooner. Maybe I should've.

Noticing Pitch gesturing for me to go on, I straightened my back and continued. "But this weekend she targeted me on social media, and a lot of other people joined her. I don't want to sound like a cry-baby, but this isn't just an issue with me. She's been doing this to a lot of people, and so have her friends, and I'm worried that something bad will happen if she keeps doing this. Someone may get hurt, or hurt themselves, or become a bully too. I don't know why she is doing what she is doing, but she needs to stop. She needs help, or something. I'm not sure. But I do know that no matter how people react to Priscilla's actions, all of the ways we were taught to handle bullies, have not worked on her," I told him.

I spent the next ten minutes detailing little incidents with Priscilla in the hallway or at the mall, and I showed him the screenshots of what had been said on social media and the hateful texts I had received. Then Jade and Ashlyn stepped forward, providing their own evidence of other cases of Pricsilla's bullying, people who were scared to step forward. I wasn't scared to come forward, but I never gave much thought to it since nothing ever seemed to change when people did mention it. But it was time for this. After reading and hearing of a long list of incidents, Mr. Winborne looked between the three of us. "What would you like to see happen with this situation? Technically, I can expel Priscilla and suspend a lot of students based on what you showed me. Bullying is not tolerated in this school, and I hate that this has gone on for so long under my nose. No one made me aware of this problem, otherwise I would've spoken to Priscilla much sooner, that I can promise you." It seemed to me that Mr. Winborne was seething under the surface.

Jade stepped forward, "I'm glad you asked. I think expulsion would be a great idea." She grinned in victory. Ashlyn nodded her agreement. I was silent for a second, thinking. Pitch cocked his head, gazing at me as he awaited an answer just like my principal was. "I do not want to see Priscilla expelled, not yet at least. I'm willing to give her another chance, on the condition that she apologizes to me and every other student she has hurt, publically. I think a brief suspension to reflect on her mistakes is perfectly in order though." I responded thoughtfully.

My best friend grabbed my shoulder, looking at me incredulously. "After everything she has done to you, to all of us, you're willing to forgive her, just like that???" She hissed angrily. "Not cool, Anara." Ashlyn added. I shook my head at them. "I do not believe in forgive and forget, Jade, you know that." I reminded her. "But I do believe in second chances..." I glanced at Pitch, and he seemed to understand my reasoning. His hand twitched though, telling me he was just as angry as the rest of us. I expected this reaction from him since he had been the one to calm me after what Priscilla did. Looking to my principal once more, I continued, "If she does anything like this ever again though, I completely support expulsion. She should have to prove that she's turned a new leaf." Mr. Winborne scratched his silver beard, clearly wondering what he should do. "Very well. I will call Miss Perkins into my office later today. She will be given the option to apologize to you all, online and here at school, or face immediate expulsion. I will also be calling her parents to notify them of her temporary suspension and I will recommend for her to speak to someone who may be able to help her. Perhaps this is more of an issue with Priscilla's idea of herself than you. Thank you ladies for bringing this to my attention. I am sorry you have gone through what you have. I will make sure Priscilla faces a suitable punishment, but I will not be unkind to her," He told us. Jade, Ashlyn, and I exchanged satisfied gazes, and nodded to our principal. "Thank you, Mr. Winborne. Truly." I smiled, and the school principal smiled back. "Of course, Miss Rose. Have a nice rest of your day, ladies." He said, dismissing us. Together, my friends and I left, feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted from our shoulders

My friends and I spent a few minutes with one another after the meeting, and I watched as Pitch waved goodbye to me before sinking into the nearest shadow on the floor. I would see him back at home later, but he was going to give me space for now. Despite his supportive stare, he seemed troubled, but I would ask about it when I saw him next.

Priscilla's voice came over the intercom about an hour following my discussion with Mr. Winborne. "Hello fellow students, Priscilla P. here! It has come to my attention that I have done some things that are not very nice to a lot of you recently. Some of my peers have made me see that I have been a horrible human being and I've made a lot of mistakes...." To Priscilla's credit, she sounded genuinely guilty. This should be good. I thought, leaning back in my chair. "I would like to formally apologize to everyone I have ever hurt, or anyone who has been bullied at this school, and especially to Anara Rose and Jade Jenkins," Jade scoffed from the seat beside me, everyone in class glancing at us with eyes reflecting suspicion and interest. Priscilla's speech was not over though. "You should not have to go through that misery, and I am deeply ashamed that I was a big source of it. I promise that from this day forward, I will stand against bullying, and promise to be kind to my fellow students. Choose kindness, guys. Priscilla P. out." The intercom crackled as the speaker turned off, and our teacher promptly resumed her lesson. No one quite knew how to react to the new, sweeter side of Priscilla or the nature of her discourse. But Jade and I were satisfied with her response, now Priscilla only had to hold true to her word.

I didn't get home until late that evening, having to run errands for my mother that way we had groceries for dinner. Generally she did the shopping, but work as a paralegal had kept her long after she should've been off the clock, so I offered to do the running and begin dinner. I decided to make a simple ginger root soup, infused with garlic cloves, chicken stock, and poblano pepper for spice. The weather was growing even colder, and the warm liquid would feel good on our stomachs. My mother finally made it home, and we dined together and exchanged stories of our day. I ended up telling her about what happened with Priscilla the week before and my meeting with the principal. She lectured me for not telling her sooner, but was proud of me for standing up for what was right. By the time we were done eating, the moon was already high into the sky over our house. Bidding one another goodnight, we went our separate ways.

Heading to my bedroom, I realized I did not feel Pitch's presence. Odd... I sighed, deciding I should do something productive while I waited. Gathering a set of black satin pajamas, I walked across the hall to the bathroom, readying myself for a late-night shower. Lighting some sandalwood scented candles, I climbed into the shower stall, feeling the warm water pulsing against the sore muscles of my back and shoulder blades.

Twenty minutes later, I finally forced myself to get out of the shower due to the fact that the water was now nearing frigid. Drying off and sliding on the soft sleepwear, I headed back to my bedroom, startled by the figure already occupying my desk chair. It took a moment for me to recognize the shape as Pitch, as at a glance he looked as though he was nothing more than a shadowy mass. It wasn't until his eyes glowed in the gloom that I knew I had a visitor. Shaking off my alarm, I walked passed him to look at myself in the mirror. "Hello Anara," The Nightmare King greeted me with a chortle. He must've seen me flinch when he appeared. "Hi Pitch!" I gave him a smile, shaking out my drenched hair and using one of the towels to continue drying the tangled mane atop my head. "It's midnight. You should be asleep." Pitch chastised me with a tutting sound. I rolled my eyes at him. "I couldn't sleep and I needed a shower, why not knock out two birds with one stone? Besides, when have you known me to willingly go to sleep before 11:00 p.m?" I retorted, running a comb through my hair, trying to straighten and smooth out the messy locks. Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes for a moment, which only served to make me chuckle. "Fair point, my dear," He replied, sounding a tad bit muffled since his palm was partially covering his mouth.

Tossing around bottles of hair and skin care products, I conversed with Pitch about the meeting with Mr. Winborne and Priscilla's speech that followed. Pitch wasn't too enthused with me giving Priscilla another chance, especially since he had seen how her actions had directly affected me. It was obvious that he did not want me to go through that torment ever again, and it seemed to bug him that there were some factors of our initial bargain that he could not always control. Things he couldn't protect me from.

The discussion was not a long one and I eventually plopped down on my bed in exhaustion. Even though I was extremely spent, emotionally and physically, I still felt keyed up, needing a way to unwind. I turned on my television and streaming service, settling on one of my favorite musical movies of all time. Poor Pitch had already sat through a few of the cheesy film productions; but I hoped he may enjoy this one more than the others. It was Phantom of the Opera, the 2004 film version. The originals were fantastic, yet this one held a certain place in my heart. The characters seemed more relatable for me.

Decisively selecting my movie, I leaned back against my pillows. Noticing Pitch shift in his seat to turn and look at the television, I cleared my throat. "Oh great Nightmare King, come get comfortable. I think you'll like this one." I offered, moving my legs to make room for him at the foot of the bed. My friend shook his head but did as I instructed, getting to his feet and shifting over to rest on the end of the bed, his back against the wall as he sat with a straight, one knee crossed over the other. His posture was so regal, but so unfitting for the circumstance. Lifting my feet, I rested them over his knees, forcing him to relax a bit. He looked at me questioningly, but I simply smiled at him mischievously in return. He gave a small shrug in response, but made no move to push me away. Instead, he settled deeper into the mattress and his shoulders relaxed. Clicking play, I started the film.

Musical number after musical number flicked over the screen, the scenes switching between black and white and color every now and then. Pitch, who hardly ever spoke during movies, suddenly asked me a question. It was during a scene in which the Phantom was leading Christine down to the catacombs under the opera house. "Why must you be so...so obsessed with these stories. With all the ogling and starry eyes and singing about passion and love?" Pitch rambled, seemingly disgusted. I shoved his outer thigh playfully with my foot. "Because I like them, that's why. They remind me that there is hope and love and compassion in the world, and things always turn out how they should in the end. Like what happened today at school. I like The Phantom of the Opera because the characters are relatable in their own ways, in some regards at least." I explained, stretching my legs a bit but not moving them from where they were resting over his legs. Pitch snorted, but rested his palms back on my ankles instead of crossing his arms as he usually did. I could sense his hesitation to touch my skin, but he did so without complaint. "How can you relate to someone fictional?" He asked, looking pointedly at me. "People say that you and the Guardians are fictional, but I relate to you, don't I?" I retorted. A ghost of a smirk stretched the Nightmare King's gray lips. "Touche." He relented, returning his gaze to the television again.

Some time later the screen turned black, and Pitch's fingers wrapped around my ankles carefully. Wordlessly, he lifted them from his lap; his jaw clenched in a way that told me the beast inside of him had been triggered, anger bubbling under the surface. Even the way he hunched his shoulders made me realize something was wrong. Anxiety rolled in my stomach. I wasn't worried that Pitch would hurt me; I was confused as to why he was acting like this so suddenly. Though his expression warned me that his next movements would be rough, his touch was gentle as he pushed my feet away from him. He got to his own feet silently.

I furrowed my eyebrows and followed the spirit across the small room. His back was to me, his head was bowed, his arms crossed over his chest. I approached carefully, reaching up to place a hand on his upper back. "Pitch?" I called softly. The sound of his name did nothing except disappear into the midnight air. A few tense moments passed before he even granted me a sentence. "You were right..." Pitch spoke in a hushed tone. "Huh?" I was confused and taken aback by his statement. "The characters are easy to relate to...too much so, in fact..." Bitterness laced my friend's voice in a way I had not seen before. "Pitch, what's wrong? Please tell me." I prodded, pulling on his cloak a bit to urge him to turn. I almost regretted causing him to do so, because the moment his eyes met mine, I was frozen. Frozen in fear.

There was fury in those familiar metallic irises, a predator-like gleam as his lips parted in a sneer. "It seems that feelings of despair are nothing more than entertainment for you, aren't they?" He growled, words dripping with poison. I stepped backward, stunned by the ferocity my friend was exhibiting. "What are you talking about? I-I don't understand." I replied. "You wouldn't, would you? You've never felt that sort of loss before...that desperation..." He paused, his expression turning blank and far-away as if remembering a time from long ago. "You've never known what it is to yearn for someone you once had, knowing you will never hold them again..." Pitch seemed distant. Almost heartbroken. Was he referring to the Phantom? Just as fast as it had appeared, that strange gaze was replaced with the aggression from the second prior, and Pitch moved forward quickly. I flinched, startled by his rapid actions. His form towered over my own, and I had to crane my neck to look up at him. That perfect gray face was mere centimeters from my own. My heart rate accelerated as I stared into the being's eyes, wondering what memories he had been reliving. Why had he reacted so emotionally to the bittersweet movie? "Do I sense a trace of fear, little girl? Are you afraid of the big, bad Boogeyman now?" He hissed darkly, his tone challenging me to defend myself.

Staring at him evenly, I shook my head. "No. Not fear." I answered, no longer frightened. Pitch stood still, watching me with contempt. It hurt to see him look at me with such disdain. But something told me that despite his harsh words, he wasn't necessarily irritated with me in particular. This was not Pitch. This persona that had emerged from him with such scorn was not the man I had come to know. With this in mind, I decided to try and calm him down the way he had settled the turmoil inside of me.

Wrapping my arms around the back of Pitch's shoulders, I closed the distance between us and pressed my body against his. I rested my cheek against his heart, listening to the pulsing beat quicken under my touch. "I'm not scared, Pitch. I'm concerned. Whatever it is that troubles you, you can tell me. But you don't have to either. I am here for you, whatever you decide to do. And I'm not going anywhere. You can't frighten me away, and I'm not letting you shut me out." I told him earnestly. My voice was muffled against his cloak, but I knew he could still hear me.

Growing silent, I allowed Pitch a moment to process everything I told him, neither of us shifting from our stance for a long while. Then I felt Pitch take a deep breath, and about thirty seconds passed before one of his palms cradled the back of my head against him, and the other loosely returned my hug. "Why...why do you care about me so?" My friend's voice was calmer now, his demeanor returning to normal. I didn't pull away from him to reply, already too content in our present positions to disturb his embrace even though I was the one that was comforting hum. "Because you are my friend, in every sense of the word, and all I want is for you to be happy. You deserve real happiness Pitch Black." I told him. Pitch hummed thoughtfully, and I felt him gently squeeze me before breaking our hug. I instantly missed the physical contact, but I did not want to push him.