Jack Frost: The Last Fairytale (Jelsa)

From Bad to Worse.

Cole pulled himself from the floor to look into the mirror, when he saw himself he was at ease, but only a little. He knew he had seen something and every time he looked away it had come back. He starred at the glass and reached down for his phone that was laying on the floor. When he touched it, blood started smearing itself on the mirror.

There is no way this is real. This can't be happening to me. It was then Cole realized that the blood that was being smeared on the mirror looked like it was spelling something, guided by an invisible hand.

J...

A...

C...

K...

?...

JACK?

Crap, who is Jack? "Who's Jack?" Cole asked before he could think it through. Then the finger stared writing again.

C...

O...

L...

E...

?...

COLE?

"No, no how do you know my name?" Cole wasn't going to wait for an answer, he had to get his name off the glass. He ran to the paper towel dispenser and pulled the handle as fast as he could to get as many paper towels as possible to wipe away the blood on the mirror. When he turned back to the mirror all the writing was gone.

Cole dropped the towel ran for the door, he slipped on something. He looked down to see what it was, the floor was covered with blood that spelled out something. His shirt and clothes were covering in blood where he fell and he wasn't going to stay in here long enough to read it. He slipped as he pulled himself off of the ground again and ran for the door. He unlocked it, leaving his backpack in the bathroom he ran out the door and slammed into someone who had to be made out of bricks.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to make an appearance."

Oh no.

Cole recognized the voice as Hans' and the brick wall as Mor'du. Panicking he looked back to see that all the blood was good, nothing but an immaculate bathroom lay behind him. And nothing but doom stood before him.

"We've been waiting for you to come up for air." Hans laughed.

Mor'du and Drago pulled Cole to his feet and held him. Hans cracked his knuckles and gave Cole a good punch in the gut. Knocking the air out of him.

"That is for making me wait." Hans hit him again.

"That is for running away like a scared child." Hans smiled as he him him again and again and again.

Cole couldn't breath to ask the to stop or call for help, not that either would do him any good. Hans was as merciless and as silver tongued as they came. Half the time he didn't even need his father's reputation to protect him. He could weasel his way out of anything, and if not, the sight of his cell phone as he threatened to call his father usually sobered the loosest of tongues.

Cole knew better than to resist too. It was easier just to let Hans burn himself out and get it over with.

"May, I have a turn?" Someone asked.

Cole looked up to see Hans wipe his brow and turn to look at where the voice had been coming from. He looked down to see Farquaad Dulac, a shorter boy with a head to big for his body and a severe case of little-man syndrome.

Hans gave Cole a strike to the face that made him see stars. "Be my guest. Boys." Hans motioned for the two men holding Cole to lower him, so that Farquaad had a clean shot of his face, something that Farquaad relished.

This was Hans the benevolent sharing his toys, oh goody. Cole braced himself as the tiny fists hit him repeatedly.