AURORA'S POINT OF VIEW
The collision of waves as they eroded the cliff soothed my nerves while I sat on the stone ledge in my dirtied wedding dress. The same place where Felix fell to his death.
Death.
Such a strange thing. I've embraced death so many times. Physically through pain. Mentally through my dreams. But I never became one with it. The smile I tried to keep on my chapped lips slowly slips off my face and instead a forlorn look takes it place. I feel weak, useless and stupid. I can't accept the idea that I might feel something towards Peter. Although it's not love, it's not hate either. Whatever I feel is on a thin line between wanting to hurt him and wanting to please him.
While I sat there, I clenched my eyes shut; my fingers desperately grasping the edge of the cliff. I realised with the clarity of a vision that something had permanently broken inside of me. Even though I didn't want to admit, I always had the silent hope that he would change. That under his cruel demeanour, there was some kindness... some humanity. For the first time, I had hope in someone. What a stupid mistake.
Maybe some people aren't meant for redemption. Maybe some people are just born and forever be monsters.
Hope is a funny thing. It can break you down so badly yet we all hold on to it so tightly. Why did he have to go down on one knee? Out of all things?
He's toying with you, that's why.
The ocean below me looked inviting. Almost too welcoming. I understood Felix's temptation to become part of it. And to kill the girl you loved must've been devastating. Why would Peter even let Wendy be imprisoned for so long, it would have been a waste of supplies and effort. Thomas even told me Peter doesn't even hesitate when he kills. I'd hate to say it, but killing her would be more merciful than trapping someone for more than a hundred years.
Only now the thought started to sink in: he is to blame for Wendy's death.
He could kill me too. To him, I would be like swatting a fly. That idea didn't help much. I stared at out where the sky meets the sea, my left hand gripped my right wrist and I clutched it to my chest, just to feel my heartbeat. I had to assure myself I was still alive.
"My little robin."
His voice still rang in my head. It was so real. It was almost as if he was right behind me.
"Robin." He was more adimant this time. Wait. That couldn't of been my imagination. I turn my head to see Peter, looking down at me. I tried to ignore his presence the best I could, but his stare burned right through my head as I looked out at sea. I felt more exposed than ever.
"What are you feeling?" Peter suddenly asked.
I turned my head to look at him. "What do you mean?"
"Anger, guilt, regret, fear? I'm just trying to understand." He looked at me with an empty expression on his face.
I felt weird about answering, it was almost like I was explaining what it meant to be human. To have emotions.
"All of the above," I finally said.
Peter didn't move an inch, I wasn't even sure he had heard me answering. He just kept standing there, with an empty look in his eyes.
"You know he wasn't your friend," Peter said. "I recall Felix hating you, if anything."
I was too tired to say something. He was right after all. Felix was dead, it was my fault he died and Felix... Felix just would've liked to see me burn. I know he's right. But it doesn't change a thing. He was still young. Too young.
"People die," Peter continued with that same, monotone voice. "Today, he did and so did Wendy. There's no shocking truth in there."
"You killed her," I said. I slowly regained my senses, like I woke up from a coma. Some of my old shock came rushing back again and the realization hit me a second time. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. I wasn't supposed to feel so calm about this. "And you don't feel anything now?" I asked him. The question left my lips before I could think it well through, but the answer didn't surprise me.
"I told you," Peter said calmly, "I don't feel. When I showed you Wendy's body, my reaction was merely just frustration. I should have been the one to choose when people die on the island. Not Wendy, nor Felix."
I was silent for a while. I just stared at the blue abyss and fought back my tears. My head could burst any moment, I felt so full of thoughts. Finally, I said:
"I wish... I wish I could love you."
There was agonising silence off a few minutes.
"Why?" He asked.
It was the first time that he sounded interested, like he really wanted to know what I had to say about the matter. I knew he didn't, I knew he only liked to hurt people, but I believed him. I believed him for a split second and already started explaining.
"Because then... this would all be bearable. I'd know that behind those eyes... there's a good person. A better person. Now I just can't."
"Love is for fools," He said harshly. "Love was invented for those blinded, who talk freely, wanderers without a map or compass. I took away my heart a long time ago. Best choice I ever chosen."
I stood up and faced him. "Then you must be happy now," I said. "Because you got exactly what you wanted. No one could ever befriend you, not even the lost boys. Let alone love you. And I'm yours, now too. I have no friends back home. Not even a loving family. I have no one left too."
Now the tears came back. As soon as I had spoken the last words, I felt them streaming down my face, over my skin, until they dripped on the rock beneath me.
I wanted to turn my back to him, I wanted to scream out, scratch my nails over my own back. I wanted to bite something, rip something, break something. I was out of my mind, I was breaking on the inside. I had to use all my willpower and selfcontrol to just stand there, tears leaving my eyes while I looked straight into his emotionless face.
He kept standing there and a wave of hate flooded me. I felt emotions I had never felt before, that I had never allowed before and for the first time, I consciously thought: I hate him. I hate how he does this to me. I hate how he hurts people, I hate how he thinks he is entitled to. I hate that he enjoys this, I hate how he is always so controlled. I want to see him lose his mind, I want to see him scrambling on the floor, I want to see him crawl. I want to break him, piece by piece, until he is just as a nobody as I am.
"Do you like this?" I said, my voice hoarse from emotion. I didn't care anymore. I just looked at him, my hands shaking and my voice breaking and said:
"Do you enjoy this? Because I hope you do. I hope you look at me and enjoy your work. Because you did this to me." I bent my head, hid my face behind my loose hair and cried. Now Felix was gone and I remembered every word he had ever said to me. His last words playing on repeat:
'Listen if you want to survive. Do what he says. Play his game. No matter what he asks, do it. He will kill you without second thought otherwise. Wendy payed the price of cheating, don't let that be you.'
That was before I knew after that moment, I would never see Peter the same way again. When I looked up, Peter was still standing there.
For a second, I thought I saw a glimpse of sympathy in his eyes. That couldn't be, I thought. He doesn't feel, he doesn't love, he told me so himself. Of course he wouldn't pity me, what did he know about remorse, mourning?
I can tell he is being cautious with me like I'm some fine china ready to break at any wrong movement. "All I can say," he said, slowly, without bending forward, "is that it gets easier. Every time."
"I can't," I said, choking on my own breath. I covered my mouth with my fist and rocked myself back and forth, like a hysterical child.
"You want it to hurt?" He said, his voice harsh again. "You want to feel like this every time? You have to overcome. It's poison, you can't let it in."
"I have to feel. I need to feel something. Or else I am nothing" I said, more to myself than to Peter. "I have nothing."
"You have me," Peter stated simply. He looked down at me, but there was a physical and an emotional distance. Barrier. He just stared at me, his voice low and calm, with a straight face:
"Only me."
He came closer. Wiping the tears away as if I'm some stubborn child. Then before I could recognise what he was doing, he swept me off my feet. I instinctively rested my arms around his shoulders. He carried me to the edge of the cliff and to my relief, sat down with his legs dangling the edge with me on his lap. My wedding dress flowing about from the wind. It felt a little awkward to say the least. But I was too far gone to realize what he was doing, until he moved a piece of hair out of my face and turned to me:
"I can't make the pain go away," he whispered in my ear, brushing my hair behind my ear again, "but I can make you feel less alone."
I froze under his touch. I felt my heartbeat in my throat, in my head, in my veins, but I couldn't move. I just lied there, while he placed his hand on my shoulder and his fingers slid over my collarbone, over my chest. His arm pressed me against him.
Internally, I was battling myself. I didn't want to be comforted by him, I wanted to escape his hold, run, fall, fly. I fantasised about endless fields, deep blue oceans, deserts for all I cared. Everywhere but in his grasp, his body pressed against mine, his breath on my skin.
And yet, I also felt safe. Secure. It felt nice to be held for once, instead of being the one to hold someone else. I held my breath and closed my eyes for a brief moment. I didn't see his face, because at least I could imagine he was someone I had known for years. A good friend, someone who cared about me. And if the world vanished, I could imagine I was on a cloud, just floating away. Floating high in the sky, my arms spread, free falling.
"I don't love," he said, in that same whispery-tone, "but I can devote myself to you. If you devote yourself to me."
I knew that it was too much, the thing he was asking from me. He was asking for something deeper than a relationship, more sacred union than marriage. He had asked me before, but never like this. Never with his arm wrapped around me, whispering in my ear, when he had just been blamed for an innocent girl's death. I didn't know what to think of it, I didn't know what to feel, what to say. I barely knew how to breathe.
I wanted to say I had a choice, but once again, he took all the words from my mouth.
I had to play his game.
He left me with only syllable, like the merciful being that he was:
"Yes." I breathed out.
There. I said it. Now I couldn't complain anymore, now I had left everything from my past life behind me. Now I was just as guilty as him. I had sold my soul to the devil, but I had been empty for a long time.
"Then this is your reward," Peter said, then he lowered his head into the crevice of my neck, inhaling my scent. It was so close to soothing until his teeth grazed over my fragile skin. Before I could recognise the pain, he began to bite my neck.
THOMAS'S POINT OF VIEW
I half expected it to take a while to climb up the hillside, but with the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I was unstoppable. As I was reaching the cliff, I heard sobs. I knew that voice from anywhere:
Aurora.
I couldn't stand the idea of her crying. I wanted her to be in my arms. Kissing away her sorrows. Treating her like a princess. My princess. I reached the cliff, my body still hidden amongst the shadows from the trees.
My heart dropped to my feet.
She was not only with him, but he was holding her. In his arms. She didn't seem to be putting up much of a fight either. My body slumped to the ground; did she ever have feelings for me to begin with?
I couldn't stand watching them like two lovers. I couldn't stand her betrayal. I could never forgive her.