The Nightmare Before Christmas Fan Fiction ❯ Roots ❯ Broken Promise ( Chapter 3 )

Jack knew that he shouldn't have taken it. But Squanto was adamant that he should have his own. And now it was stained with blood. His blood. From the crook of his elbow. He felt awful. He'd broken his promise to Oogie. He was ashamed of himself. Tears slipped down his cheeks from the raw emotion, but not from the physical pain. That particular pain felt wonderful. So he brought the gleaming blade down on his arm again, taking delight at the sharp twinge that spasmed up his arm. A soft grunt of pleasure came from his throat, and he did it again. And again. And again. Until he had ten neat cuts oozing rivulets of red down his pale flesh.

"Ooh, yes," Jack purred, flicking his thumb in the red substance then licking it. "Feels so nice, so good…"

He rinsed his arm off, making sure the bleeding had stopped completely before he pulled on his shirt. The knife was there on the ground, sunlight glinting off the smooth metal, with drying blood on the edge. The leader of Halloween Town gingerly cleaned the blood off the blade, taking great care not to get any on his shirt—red on white was very noticeable, and Oogie could spot blood better than Dr. Finkelstein could—while he contemplated his problem.

When it had started, Jack wasn't sure. He remembered his bloodlust from the time he was a child. He caused pain in others for the fun of it, and killed for the rush of pleasure it gave him. Now, he'd never actually killed a human, but animals were fair game. They fell beneath his hands with a snapped neck or his blade with a slit throat if they were small enough, and with bow and arrow if they were too big. Blood fascinated him, and every time he was cut, he had to taste the life source. The coppery tang was something he lived for. It made him shiver just thinking about it.

He pulled the blade out of the water then stared at it as shame caught up with him again. More tears fell and he violently sheathed the knife. He hated himself. He should tell his friend, but he just couldn't! Oogie would be so disappointed in him. Jack sobbed, burying his face in his hands. He wanted to die, but that also wasn't new. He had been a conflicted human when he'd lived. Oogie knew it; Oogie knew more about him then anybody else, especially of his human life. But what about the other leaders? They had no idea. None whatsoever. They would be horrified. Jack couldn't have that.

"Jack?"

Jack jumped, wiping his face rapidly, but he was caught and he knew it when he turned to see Sandy staring at him looking very concerned.

"Sandy! Hi! What's…what are you doing?"

Sandy still couldn't understand him, so his question went ignored. The man walked over and sat down.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

"Nothing."

Sandy knew from the shortness of the answer alone what Jack had said. "Don't give me that. I know you, Jack. You're not the kind of person to cry. Did that freak say something about you?"

Jack froze. "Oogie?"

"Um, yes, that burlap man. Oogie Boogie, is his name right?" Jack nodded. "So did he say something about you? Or to you?"

Jack shook his head violently. "Oogie loves me, even if you can't see it. Don't say or imply anything like that again."

Sandy sensed he'd crossed a line. "Sorry! Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Yes, you did. Don't lie to me, Sandy."

The man stared at him blankly then shrugged, reaching over to wipe away a stray tear. "I hope you're okay, Jack."

Jack smiled and nodded, his eyes soft and gentle. "I will be fine, friend. Don't worry about me. I'll talk to Oogie about it…somehow."

"…That means you'll be alright, right?" Jack snickered and nodded. Sandy looked relieved. "Good. Now, let's get back to camp. It's just about lunchtime, and Squanto's making us venison stew."

"Mm."

"I agree."

Jack got back, sliding his knife in his pocket beneath his kilt to hide it from his friend. He wasn't ready to face him yet. But honestly, would he ever be? Answer: no. They ate a hearty lunch, thanking Squanto profusely.

"Taing? Is that thanks?" Bunny asked.

"Yes," Oogie said quietly, pulling Jack close to his body. Jack leaned back happily.

That was something that the other leaders couldn't understand. Jack seemed so happy to be with Oogie, and not just because he was the only one who understood what he was saying. He would sleep on top of him each night, cushioned by the very person who had attacked them all at least once. He would make food and just chat idly with his friend or make arrows with Oogie's help. It was bizarre.

"How is my Creepy?" Oogie asked in Gaelic.

Jack fought down his shame. "Feeling comfy, Crawly."

"Good."

Oogie cuddled him, making Jack feel more ashamed of himself. Now that he'd started, Jack knew it would only proceed to get worse. What was he supposed to do?