I took a step back from his touch, "Abandonment requires expectations."
The strange paining in my heart from the loss of contact left me on edge. And by the looks of it, he felt the same.
His aching expression faltered, but quickly introduced a dignified one, "Expectations are for suckers. Come dance and forget about the pain. Don't punish yourself for never being good enough, just forget about your past. Tonight, just live instead of survive."
Before I could acknowledge his tracks, he took my hand again and began luring me into the circle of chaotic bliss: where the boys danced around the fire.
He let me go and I began follow the Lost Boys movements. Waving my arms towards the silvery moons in the sky. The clear view of the galaxies above us. My feet stumbling, leaping and swirling in the dry soil. I heard the blissful tune again, letting it fill light in my dark empty void of my suffering. I was letting go of the hurt I've been storing inside of myself for too long. In small ripples, I was letting go. A small smile settled on my dry lips, as I closed my sleepy eyes and got lost in my movements.
The merry melody faded and we gained our senses. Peter was gone and Felix was the first to talk, "shows over, sleep good."
Thomas, Frankie and I made it to our treehouse. I tucked Frankie in, which he has grown used to, and fell straight to sleep. Although, by the looks of Thomas's face, he didn't seem too tired. In fact, he was prepared for an argument, "We never finished our conversation." The grumpy tone in his voice was quite evident.
"There's nothing to talk about. Anyway, how are you so content in fighting a war for a monster." I snapped back.
"Neverland is my home. You wouldn't understand." He growled.
I gestured to a deep sleeping Frankie, "So your fine with the idea that Frankie could die in a battlefield?"
He sighed, I knew he was thinking about his younger brother Cory, "No. Obviously not. But fighting for what is right is more important."
I vociferated, "More important that a bloody child?"
We stayed silent for a while. Afraid we might've awoken Frankie. I didn't, luckily. I noticed the fixated look of guilt in Tom's face, so I apologised.
"I didn't mean to shout, I'm so sor-"
He cut me off, "Your right. It is completely fucked up to fight in a war, but we have no choice. I would never want to leave Neverland and I care enough about my friends to know what I want. In the mean time, if your figuring out a way of escaping; take Frankie with you. Please."
"How did you-"
He cut me off again, "I know you're hiding something Aurora. I don't know what exactly and frankly, I'd rather not know. Just promise me if you find a way out to take Frankie with you."
I thought about the possibility, "I promise."
Afterwards, we headed to bed. My mind and body both excruciatingly exhausted. And so I wondered in forest of my thoughts. Thinking about what poor souls lived here before. Thinking about the boys before the ones that reside here with me. Thinking about how big their hands once was against the swords I train with now. Thinking about the length of their feet before they hit the ground in the haze of joy from the pipes. And then I thought about what head lay in my bed before me, and what dreams fell through the woodwork floor, and what tears that soaked through their pillow as they yearned a mother. Can you imagine the sweet sweats, slow breaths and smiles? Previous to my existence: who else had to endure mermaids, scratches and bruises, chapped lips, calloused feet and sunburned hair?
I thought about Frankie. I thought of the decades he has been here. Thought about the dramatic change when I take him home. I thought about his family. I thought about his reaction to new technology. I thought about him growing into a young man. I thought about his happiness in belonging instead of settling. Just as I did for Thomas. I thought about Ian and his decency towards me. I thought about Charlie's gifts medically. I thought about all the lost boys, subconsciously planning an escape for all of them. I thought about asking Rumple for a magic bean. I thought about the potential of my plan.
I thought a lot about tonight. Peter, mostly. His flawless skin, slightly swollen lips, broad chest and neatly ruffled hair. The way the tips of his fingers scraped my skin. The chaotic sparkles my skin felt following his nails. The vague tingling with the loss of his touch. The gaze in his eyes could drive anyone mad. But not me. I was left speechless. I tried to shoo away such thoughts, but to no avail. The way he called me 'different' still lingering in my thoughts. I was a boy to him, yet he seems to take interest in me.
I knew the possibility of him having feelings for me was impossible. Not because I was a boy to him- no, because a monster doesn't feel sentiment. Do they?
The weight of my thoughts were pulling on my eyelids as they fell shut.
My slumber was cut short by a familiar voice; opening my eyes to an excited Thomas covering my lips in an attempt to keep me quiet. I licked his hand, he moved it almost immediately.
"Did you just?"
"Yes. Why are we awake this early in the morning?" I spoke as I looked at the window showing the peak of the horizon.
"We are going to train your magic and there is nothing you can do about it." He stated in a 'matter of fact' tone.
I sighed and got up from my slumber, if you could call it that. I wasn't in the mood for an argument and I certainly didn't want to wake up Frankie. Making our way down from the treehouse, while holding in a breath to prevent any noise. I followed him as we made our way down a path. Thomas took a route left, away from the path, as we kept walking. Eventually he found a safe spot to sit down. My legs were crossed as he sat with his legs pointing toward me. He looked at me expectantly.
"Stop staring at me like that."
He smiled, "Do something."
"Like what?" I furrowed my brows.
He took sometime to decide, "Make a jammy dodger."
"Out of all things?" He nodded to my question. I closed my eyes and focused on the task on hand. I stretched my palm out and began imagining the crumble of the biscuit when it hits my teeth. The sweet and sour taste of the strawberry jam. Remembering the shape and size.
"Are you doing it?"
He slapped me out of my thoughts, "shut up, will you?"
He stayed quiet and let out an unsatisfied groan. I closed my eyes tighter, thinking long and hard. I felt a small weight on my palm and opened my eyes to an astounded Tom looking at my palm. I follow his eyes to find a small jammy dodgers on my hand, with specks of a greeny gold circling it. We both just stared at it for a while, watching the small wisps disappear. Eventually Thomas was the first to speak, "You see it too, right?"
I stuttered, "y-yes, I believe so."
I broke it in half and passed one half to him, "Let's find out if it tastes as good as it looks."
He gives me a cautious look, "Are you sure I won't turn into a frog?"
I chuckled, "I can't make any promises."
We both downed it in satisfaction and he asked, "Could you make another?"
"So eager. Alright, I'll try." I close my eyes and tried again. Nothing. I thought fondly about the biscuit, but nothing.
"Are you even trying?"
"Shut up, will you? It's harder than it looks. I think I'm drained."
"Drained?"
"The night I made that sandwich, I tried to make another. It didn't work."
"That's okay. Lets try to make one of those flaming fire thingys you told me about."
"Can you take this seriously?"
His childish grin suddenly turned serious, "Fine, I promise."
The rest of the morning consisted of failed attempts at my magic and conversations about our friends back at home. I could tell he felt weird about it, but I needed him to understand that there are people in our world that care about him.
Time rushed by so quickly, we hadn't even noticed we missed breakfast. We headed to the training grounds as quick as we could. Once we made it there, we were welcomed by Peter. He looked furious, but his eyes held something else, hurt maybe, or even betrayal. It throughly confused me.
"Why are you two late?" he demanded.
We both stayed silent, uncertain of what to say. Thomas plucked the courage to speak up, "I was showing A.J the path to the lagoon since he lost the path last time."
I internally thanked him for coming up with a decent excuse. But by the looks of it, Peter seemed even more furious that he spoke up instead of me. His voice was loud, "10 laps around the clearing. This better not happen again." And he left.
We both ran. Tom was laughing once we made a safe distance from him, "He reminds me of Mr Matthews." He was one of our PE teachers at school.
I laughed, but deep down I felt strange. An unfamiliar aching settled at the pit of my stomach when I heard Peter shout at us. His voice was so gentle last night, what had happened?
I tried to shake these thoughts off as I ran faster. I could hear Tom calling in the background, but ignored it. I needed to be alone. Peter is a monster. The figure that haunted my dreams, so why am I thinking this way about him? He's an awful human being. A manipulative, abusive and controlling bastard. I can't fall deeper into this hole. Especially since Peter felt this way about A.J and not me. I'm Aurora, a teenage girl who came to save her brother. I am not A.J; he is not real. I have to focus on escaping, I need this to stop.
I completed 10 laps before Tom and made my way to get a dagger from the shed. My eyes scanning the weaponry, I gazed towards a certain sword, which I had never seen before. My finger grazed the edges gently.
"She's a beauty isn't she?" Peter made his way into the shed and closed the door behind him, facing me. "Well, isn't she?"
My heart dropped to my toes; I was alone with the monster...
My heart stopped pounding at the realisation that he was talking about the sword and not me. I turned around to face him, then my heart started pacing again.
Shadows surrounded me as the door of the shed closed. Rays of light seeping through narrow holes in the ceiling contoured his face. I didn't want to fear him, but his grim voice was deteriorating my sanity.
He took a step closer, "No need to fret little one."
I internally groaned at the name, 'little one'. The degrading kept splintering my gut, a weird satisfying feeling. Like pealing a bandaid off. He took another step closer, enough so that our feet were almost touching.
"I'm not scared of you." I shocked myself at how brave I sounded.
His voice was stern, but composed, "I better not see you late with Tom again. Got it?" The question came out more as a statement.
I jumped at his words, but stayed as quiet as a mouse, even felt like one. I watched as his expression softened, he seemed to be offended with my reaction. Peter took my wounded wrist, looking at the stitches. His grip was dramatically more gentle, compared to the mermaid's. His hand was warm and comforting, although I briefly imagined all the lives that were taken away by them. His fingers grazed the thread and dry blood on my arm and I hissed at what happened next. It was healing itself. Light seeped through the wound, filling the shed with it and burning away the thread. The tools around me reflecting the sorcery. My skin was attaching itself together, leaving a faint, but tolerable, burning sensation afterwards.
I looked at my new and repaired arm in amazement. He smiled at my reaction and the second I noticed, I went fearful again, "why do this?" I whispered.
He was still holding my arm, rubbing his thumb against it, "What is it about you? You oppose me in every way appropriate, yet no other lost boy had dared to do so, and it baffles me. I've never had a lost boy like you and I want to know more about you."
I felt uneasy again, "T-there's not m-much to say. Please let go of my arm."
He didn't let go, if anything, his grip became tighter, "you don't have to feel alone anymore."
For some reason, I couldn't move. I oddly felt safe in his grasp. Safe enough to tell the truth, "I like being alone. I'm used to licking my own wounds. I've always felt like a burden, this way I don't have to be one."
He was taken aback from my answer, "You have morals, something I lost a long time ago. Why can't you allow yourself to be happy?"
I shrugged nervously, not trusting my voice. His eyes darkened at my gesture, as if he was slightly thrilled from it. I concluded that he liked me like this: vulnerable.
Without any force and with his other hand, his fingers moved upwards, over my hips, stomach, chest all the way up to the corner of my mouth. The sensation of his touch left a trail on my skin and in the soft light, I almost saw it illuminating in the dark.
"Hmm?" he asked. All the while he kept looking at my face, staring at me right in the eye, as if he wanted to read the answer himself. I didn't dare to look back at him and tried focusing on the green fabric of his shirt instead, his perfectly symmetrical, clearly visible collar bones. His thumb brushing my bottom lip. He pulled my bottom lip back slightly until it jumped back into place. Peter then pressed his thumb against the corner of my lips.
I looked up, questioning.
"Open up..." he whispered, a playful smile on his lips. I lost control of my body. I wanted this as much as he did and that terrified me. I parted my lips a little and slowly, he slid his thumb inside my mouth. It felt weird but comfortable, almost like it belonged there. He didn't move it an inch. His hand rested on my jaw, without putting any weight on my face.
"Does that feel nice?" he asked, a softer look in his eyes. Oh... how badly I missed that soft look in his eyes. I only nodded. We stood like that for a little while. Eventually, I found myself slowly closing my mouth on his finger. It didn't have any taste but it felt good somehow. He smiled lightly but didn't say anything.
The glare he gave me of full satisfaction when I didn't pull away made chills run down my spine. I submitted to his touch, looking up at him and rested half my weight on the arm he was holding. I tried to defy every cell in my body, but I couldn't pull away. As if he had a spell on me, I was fully entranced by him.
No one has ever given me this kind of attention before, or any attention for that matter, and a small part of me liked it. I hated that I liked being vulnerable around him and it made me sick. So sick. I've never exposed this side of me before. I never felt safe enough to do so. I was so scared. Scared that whatever he was doing was going to get worse. So I did the most logical thing.
Abruptly, I moved my head away and a small string of saliva followed, but snapped. And I grabbed the first dagger I saw and left the shed to train. He watched, slightly taken back by this move.
I left the shed with all eyes on me. I tried to ignore it and headed to Ian and Charlie. They were both practicing with daggers. I interrupted them and asked in a forced friendly tone, "What are you doing?" my heart still pounding after such events.
Charlie answered in an awkward tone, "Just waiting Pan's orders... why was he in the shed with you."
I lied, "Just giving me another lecture about behaving this time."
Satisfied with my answer, they went back to playing with their daggers. Charlie asked, "full moon tonight. Can't wai-"
A loud voice erupted from behind me.
"Come here." Peter was awaiting for us. We stood in a line with the other boys, Peter was in front of us and ready to teach. I avoided his stare. Wishing the lesson could be over soon. He asked, "Can someone tell me an advantage of using a dagger on an opponent?"
Ian spoke up, "Your opponent doesn't expect much of a fight?"
"Potentially, yes. But not the answer I was looking for. They are more practical than a heavy sword and require less force to do more damage. Now can I have a volunteer?"
"Have I missed anything?" Thomas returned from his run breathless. I couldn't help notice the joyous grin on Peter's face and realisation struck me: Thomas had fallen into a death trap.
"Tom, resume position in front of me and try to stab me in the lower stomach with this." Giving him a pathetic excuse for a dagger.
Tom maintained a calm face, but I could easily tell he was on edge. Tom aimed the blade to Peter's stomach, but Peter dodged, slashing his chest in the process. Ripples of blood growing around his shirt; Peter wasn't going to heal him.
"Come on Tom, I know you can do better than that." He lifted a brow.
He tried to tackle him, but Peter dodged again and pushed him to the ground and then stabbed a blame deep into his back. I could hear his pleads, but Pan showed no mercy. He looked at my direction to let me know this was my punishment as much as his for being together. He was jealous? I had to stop this, "Peter stop."
He growled, "Why should I, this weakling should understand that he needs to improve."
I knew there was only one way to stop this. I challenged him, "Anyone can do damage with a blade... when it's not as blunt as you." I was gesturing towards the rusted dagger Tom was using. The boys around me were whispering to each other.
With a sinister smile, he walked up to me, "If it's so easy, why don't you have a go?"
I had to save Tom, "Maybe I will." And resumed position. Peter laughed loudly and wrapped his hands around my hand with the dagger. He adjusted my grip on it.
He chuckled, "You're going to get yourself hurt with a grip as weak as that."
My grip was fine, he took any excuse to touch me. When he backed away I tried to slash his arm. He was surprised by this move, so I took this chance to take another swing. Scratching his shoulder in the process. If he wasn't mad before, he definitely was now.
Peter and I were slashing and dodging. Circling the ground. Adrenaline stormed through my veins as my fight or flight mode kicked in. Our blades bashed into each other, a moment of joy surpassing both of our faces.
Fear struck me as his smile turned evil. Taking the opportunity, I cut his cheek with the dagger. Speckles of blood forming. He wipped the blood to reveal it completely healed. Not even a faded scar left behind. He snatched my dagger with a deathly stare and pulled me closer by the neck.
I could feel his breath on my cheek as he spoke, "Learn your place little one. You can never beat me." And with that he plunged the dagger into my stomach.
I screamed in pain. My body was on fire. I tried to block the agony, but it was useless. I could feel my blood spur out when he pulled the dagger out of my gut. He spoke again, "Didn't you know? Peter Pan never fails."
Black spots blurred my vision and I could hear faint shouting around me. I couldn't focus as my consciousness left my body.
It was in that moment I realised Peter Pan is truly monster. A spineless wicked thing that wouldn't think twice about killing an innocent. That day I made a promise to not only save Frankie. I made a promise that if I survive this, I will do everything and anything I can to help these boys escape. No matter what, I'll get them out of here. I will keep living until I know those children are safe.