As always, the darkness greets you, welcoming you and embracing you despite your misery. All your life there's been a lingering loneliness, and all your life there has been one constant: the creature in the shadows, the one who devours the light... Pitch Black. You always had demons, but he was there to guide you when even the Guardians were not. And in your heart burned a light the Boogeyman could not resist, drawn to time and again as you grew older, stronger, brighter.

It seems like he knew you would need him this day, a tendril wisp of black sand curling underneath your jaw, tipping your head - rather gently - towards him as he steps free from the shadows of your bedroom, his form looming into view with eyes gilded and gleaming with curious appraisal. "Something wrong, cherub?" He asks, voice sweet and slick, seeming to swell through the room. "You know you can tell me anything," He assures.