Perfect Sins

Prolouge

Prolouge

*Peter's P.O.V.*

I shot straight up from the hammock, my breath staggering coming from my mouth.

But fear, fear was all I could think about. The strange girl, The strange an peculiar voice.

How could this weak, awful girl come into my dreams without my permission. 

What power..

What grace is she?

 I looked straight ahead at the wooden wall , breathing heavily in and out. 

I bowed my head into my hands, wiping the slumber away from my eyes.

My heart jumped at the images of her that crossed my eyes. 

The same scene I saw every night, Her death.. My death. 

The end.

"You dreamt about her again, didnt you," 

A voice said coming across my hut. I glanced over, only seeing the black shape of the person come towards me, 

"Dog."

Thomas.

My eyes focused on his lean shape. His dark brown eyes and his dirty blonde hair, his body covered in dirt from working in the camp all day.

I growled at him with a scared yet angry look,

"Why do I keep dreaming about her..?" I rolled my eyes as I remembered why. 

I stole her brother away from her and her family a long, long time ago. 

I guess, Fate decided, for taking her brother away, I had to see the pain she was going through.

And it wasn't until lately I started having these visions.. or dreams of her.  

Unexplainable.

Thomas stood up straight, cracking his neck as he grabbed a spare chair, 

pulling it next to my hammock, then sat in it, 

"This the third time in four days you've talked  in your sleep," 

Thomas said quietly, putting his thumb on his bottom lip, drawing attention away from his blank eyes,

 "I pray you weren't having sex with her in this dream, Peter. I admit I envy you get to see what she does everyday and what she looks like, but you don't miss her.."

I take the health and well-being of my Lost Boys very seriously, especially Thomas. 

Felix and I haven't been on good terms since Thomas arrived, out of jealousy mainly. 

But, I couldn't tell Thomas I was dreaming over her death every time, but died differently, with each dream. 

Two days ago, I slipped up and told him what I dreamt. 

Which is why he comes to my hut every night. To see what I dreamt of, which was only of her.