Being lost is okay

Catch (14)

Stiles groaned, blinking the brightness off his eyes. He was grabbed, roughly he might add, by the collar of his shirt.

"Mischief, Mischief, Mischief," Pan shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Let me leave?" Stiles answered making Pan chuckle.

"Funny," Pan shoved Stiles, placing his hand on Stiles' shoulder. Pan lead him a tree in the direct middle of the camp. There was a rope hanging against the trunk, blood stains scattered throughout the tree. Pan tied Stiles hands above his head and stepped away. Stiles looked up at the ropes, looking back towards Pan with a smirk.

"Kinky," Stiles chuckled to himself, a desperate attempt to calm his nerves. Pan ignored his comment.

"Boys!" Pan yelled. The lost boys swarmed behind Pan, most smirking. The same boy who kidnapped Henry and himself stood the closest to Pan, not directly next to him but closer than the rest. Pan's second in charge.

"Our darling Mischief," Pan yelled, staring at Stiles. "Broke a rule!" Pan turned to the lost boys. "What do we do with rule breakers?"

"Break them!" The lost boys howled. His second handed Pan something. He turned back around towards Stiles, daggers in hand.

"Wanna play a game?" Stiles immediately suppressed the anxiety with that statement. Pan smirked, knowing exactly how it affected the boy. Pan lifted the dagger towards his lips, a quizzical look on his face.

"How about-" Pan threw one of the daggers. "catch." Pan dropped his arm, smirking like a wild animal. A warm ooze trickled down Stiles' ear. The dagger only mere centimeters from hitting his head. The weapon had only licked Stiles' right ear but Pan had drawn blood. The eminent threat became crystal clear. The lost boys screamed and howled with triumph. The boy twirled another dagger in his hand, drawing Stiles' anxiety out. Pan threw the dagger. Another trickle of red ooze dripped down Stiles' left ear. A perfect replica of the previous shot. Stiles couldn't help but wince.

"Nice catch, Mischief!" Pan mocked, he turned to the lost boys once again. "Who wants a turn?" Stiles couldn't help but gulp.

The crowd begun to split, allowing one of the boys from the back to walk forward.

"Our newest recruit!" Pan clapped the boy on the back. "Henry!" Stiles sucked in a labored breath. Henry was dressed head to toe as a lost boy. Henry's eyes twitched to Stiles. Unnervingly cold for a nine year old's eyes. Pan handed Henry a dagger, the same smirk never leaving his face. Pan looked down towards Henry and nodded. Henry shared the same smirk. One blink. Stiles had only taken one blink before a dagger sunk into the center of his right hand. Stiles would have doubled over if not for the restraints. Biting the inside of his cheek, Stiles refused to scream.

"Nice shot!" Pan whooped as the lost boys cheered. Henry never lost his smirk. "Try another!"

Henry took a step back, dagger in the air. Henry let go and it flew through the air finding it's target; his other hand. Doubling over in pain,

"Jesus Christ," Stiles grumbled.

The second in command walked forward, twirling two knives. Stiles straightened himself, holding his head high. This lost boy was the oldest and clearly had something to prove. He seemed the most perverse out of the lot. Stiles would not give him what he wanted.

The second in charge drew a step back then raised his knives. The knives sliced through the air,  blunging themselves into Stiles' thighs. Stiles let out another grunt, his breathing more labored. Stiles shot his head up, preparing for another knife. The second pulled another two knives but before he could throw them, Pan stepped in front of him.