@supertinyking((I know this is a slight timeskip, but I have to make this post. We can just act like your post was a week in the past, as it doesn't really change anything.))
It had been about a week since the incident that had taken Lily Forager's left arm. She had made a full recovery, physically. The hospitals had treated her wound, and refilled the blood she had lost. Synthetic, created in a lab. It was all very advanced. But Lily wasn't from a rich family, and there was no way her father could afford a complete limb reconstruction. The best they'd been able to do was a little stump, and with every passing day reconstruction became less likely.
Alexander Stone sighed, as he looked over his papers. It was in his line of work to deal with tragedy, but it was cases like these that he worked for. It was children like her that he sought to help. And thus it infuriated him all the more when she refused to listen, when she clamped up the way she did.
"Lucy, look at me. That's right, I'm over here." The girl's eyes focused once more on Alexander, as he smiled gently at her. But even as she looked at him, it was like she looked right past him. Staring off into some unseen nightmare, some horrific daydream that she would never be able to escape from. "Lucy, this is a safe place. Remember? There's no need to look out the window."
Once more, the girl's focus left him. Her eyes wandered across the room, before coming to settle on the window. Wordlessly she continued to stare, and Alexander, after a moment, stood up to turn down the blinds. "Does the light bother you? Don't worry. We're on the seventh story, nothing can come in through there." The girl didn't reply, but rather stared down, at the empty paper in front of her. She didn't speak, as she hadn't since her traumatic experience. He could see the pain in her eyes, and yet he didn't know how to help her. He could do nothing unless she reached out first, and he hated himself for his helplessness.
There was a polite knock on the door. Alexander stood, already knowing who it was. Lily didn't relax, continuing to stare at the paper silently. He already knew who it was, their time was over. As he opened the door, James was standing behind it looking anxious. The man smiled anxiously, a glint of suspicion still evident in his eyes as his eyes instantly darted to his daughter. "Ah, Mr Forager. Lily is right here."
James nodded nervously, grinning sheepishly at Alexander. He tried to make a statement, but, failing to find the right words, simply walked over to his daughter. Talking softly to her, he coaxed her off the leather chair, taking a hold of her hand. Alexander simply watched, knowing the pain James felt. As James turned to leave, he nodded to Alexander. "Thank you, Mr Stone. I.... I know I can't afford the time you..."
"You're not the only father in the world, James." Alexander's smile was a sad one. "I hope I'll see Lily back next week." For a moment, a strange spike of resentment flared in him. Not at the sheepish, awkwardly grateful standing before him. Nor at Lily, the girl who now stood so solemnly by his side. He felt resentment at himself. For even as he extended his help so charitably, he knew he wasn't making any progress. But he couldn't bear himself to say anything as James looked at him, a tiny glimmer of hope in his eye. The man had been through too much, and hope was the only thing that kept him moving.
"Yeah, we'll be back. Thanks again." With those words, James left the carefully designed office of Alexander Stone. He lead his catatonic daughter down to the elevator, the people quickly making space for them. They bore that look of pity he had come to despise, for no reason other than the fact that it reminded him of his current situation.
The last few days were a waking nightmare. The hospital had been a blur, he remembered nothing. Not the concerned people who had found him sobbing next to his daughter, not the police officers surveying the scene, not the medics in their white suits rushing her into a stasis pod. People had told him later that he'd been in shock. It made sense, he supposed. But even now he had no idea how he'd gotten back into his bed, how he'd managed to sleep after that day. All he remembered was the nightmares.
Some time later, James sat at home. In her room, Lily had finally gone to sleep. He stared out into space, thinking of what to think. He tried to sort his thoughts, to sort his emotions. In the light of this event, Lily's schooling fees had disappeared. He was able to pay off Rick's men, for now. But what if he lost his job at the factory? What if they replaced him with another one of those damn clones? What if he no longer had the income to pay off the underworld, as well as support his daughter. Endless scenarios of horror played out before his eyes, all the ways his life could possibly go to sleep. And throughout it all he saw the face, the smirk that had been so prominently displayed on Rick's face. That horrifying look of smug indignation, as if he were merely swatting off an annoying bug.
Little did James know that he was not the only one watching. And even as he sank off into a fitful sleep, he felt himself being plucked out of his body. As if some giant had picked him up for closer inspection, holding him up closer to it's face, he could feel himself being dragged through layers of reality. A rushing, spinning sensation. Until finally, he emerged from a pit of darkness in a throne room formed from the bones of some titanic creature. The only lighting came from the series of heads arrayed along the walls, glowing goo dripping from their eyes and mouths even as they tried to speak. Before him stood a massive throne, forged from bone and liquid shadow, reinforced with a black, unknown metal. Upon it sat a tiny figure, a petite little girl with a bright grin on her face, staring down at him from impossible heights with a look of condescending glee.
"Where am I?" The question came out slowly, almost calmly, as James found himself paralysed. He couldn't move a single muscle, his eyes locked by the malevolent pink glare.
"You're in the world of nightmares, James." James nodded, as the girl spoke. This made perfect sense to his dream self. "And I'm the Queen of Nightmares." James looked up, doubting the authority of the tiny girl. But something about the way she looked, the way she... felt, told him that he wouldn't live long were he to express his doubts. "This world is for all the little people who want to escape reality, who fall so deep into their nightmares they forget to live."
"So how do I get back?" It seemed like the most logical question to ask. After all, he couldn't abandon his daughter. Without him, she would be sent to a foster home. Then she could never hope to recover.
"You can't get back, James. After all, you're my servant now." A deep, primal fear took hold of James heart. For he knew in that instant that he was doomed to an eternity of torment. That the waking dreams that he had been lost in would become his new reality, that all he feared would be made real before his eyes.
"But I can't stay here! Please let me go!"
"Are you afraid for your daughter? Oh, you have no need to worry, she came in just before you did." The look of horror on his face must have been palpable, because the girl seemed to pause, relishing in the moment. Like someone enjoying a particularly good wine, taking a moment to guess the vintage in their head before swallowing. "After all, she was more troubled even than you. That poor girl can't even tell reality from fantasy. Doomed, really. Not a hope in the world."
"No, please! I'll do anything, just let her go!" The fear he had felt for himself mere moments before had vanished, and he would happily condemn himself to this place if he could simply save her life. "Take me, do whatever you want to me. Just leave her alone. She's just a child, she doesn't deserve this!"
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. After all, you're already mine. Why would I simply release one of my victims?" The girl's grin revealed a row of uncanny teeth, seeming to shift in her mouth, halfway between human and shark. "Of course, perhaps we can deal. After all, it doesn't matter to me who I get to torture. As long as it's someone I can sink my teeth into. But who could you possibly offer me, other than yourself?"
James hesitated. Could he really do this? Was he really prepared to throw someone to this demon, to feed some poor soul to the devil herself to save his daughter? He could condemn himself with a clear conscience, but who could he.... and like that, a dark idea sprouted inside him, watered by his deep-seated hatred. Lucy smiled down, knowing what had dawned onto him. And as James looked up, he knew he was about to become worse than a murderer. But he didn't care. "Rick Anderson. I can give you Rick Anderson. Give her dreams to Rick, make him scream." Even as he spoke the words, James knew the sin he had committed. And yet, he felt oddly calm.
"But who will deliver such foul dreams to him? After all, I can't go doing my own dirty work. It seems I might have to take your daughter after all...." The Queen sat, a smirk on her face. She knew how he would answer, and he knew that she knew. It had all been a trick, a trap for him. But it was far too late to back out now, not with hope in sight. Not with even the slightest possibility of salvation dangled in front of his nose like a carrot.
"I'll do it. I'll deliver the nightmares onto Rick, the nightmares that he would plague my daughter with. I'll kill him a hundred times over, he isn't worth even a thousandth of a life." And with those words, James had doomed himself. The lights dimmed, as the girl stood before him. A wraith, covered in shadow. Spidery legs extending from her back, enclosing him. Her hand on his face, long claws tapping at the edge of his eyes. Rows upon rows of teeth, smiling at him, from beneath those glowing pink eyes.
"Oh, do you promise? Pinky promise?"
"I promise."
With a swift movement, she ripped into him. Claws like daggers digging into his face, clawing through his eyes. He was devoured, and yet remade. He was touched, he was defiled. He could feel as his world was painted in black, as his soul was taken. He would be the vessel, the container for the horrors of the world. He would be the living incarnation of the terrors Rick had inflicted upon the people of Tor-7, and he would bring those horrors to his door. He would be the nightmare that hunted him during the light, he would be the waking dream that would drive him to madness. James was no more. Here stood a champion of darkness, a Dark Knight. And he would serve with pleasure.
A few hours later, James woke from his fitful nap. His hand shot to his eyes, checking whether they were still in place. And yet even as he felt for the gouges he had felt made in his flesh, he knew they wouldn't be there. Not to feel, not to see. And yet he could sense them, beneath the skin, as real as any scar. It had been no mere dream. He had sold his soul to the devil.
He walked into Lily's room, and he saw her sleeping so peacefully. And yet he knew, with dreadful certainty, that her soul was entrapped within the Court of Nightmares. She would not wake up, no matter what he tried. Even if she walked, even if she went to school, she was not truly here. Forever from now on, part of her would live in that horrific place. Trapped. Wailing for help. Up until the very day that he shoved Rick's head full of nightmares.
He had a mission now. He had a duty now. And as he looked at her, he could see the shadows forming around her. Tendrils of darkness growing around her, extending from the stump of her left arm. A new arm formed, a clawed arm of shadows and black metal. And in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Nothing more than a promise, of things to come. A possible reward, were he to serve well. And James would serve, he would serve happily. He would kill, and he would maim. He would torture and damn this world until nothing was left. As long as he could bring back his daughter. He would do it for her.
