Lost Boy // l.s.

26. Out There

26. Out There (From "The Hunchback Of Notre Dame")

Out there living in the sun. Give me one day out there, all I ask is one.

.

Harry couldn't see anything because his eyes were squeezed closed. At first, he was unconscious, but even when he woke up, he didn't want to open them. He was afraid.

He could hear lots of men shouting and waves crashing. The wind was loud and he figured he was probably near the ocean, although he had no idea why.

The last thing he remembered was coming face to face with a terrifying man, with a dirty moustache and what seemed like 10 years of squalor caked onto his skin.

He shivered at the memory, and then shivered because he was freezing cold. He had his arms wrapped around his body, but he was only wearing his thin clothes from the campsite, and the hard floor he was laying on was wet, which wasn't helping either.

Eventually, he gathered the courage to slowly open his eyes. And when he did, he gasped and sat up, scrambling backwards until he felt his back press up against a wet wall.

It was pretty dark and he could only just make out some metal bars in front of him and a ladder on the far side of the room. The only other thing he could see were wooden walls around him, and the thin stream of light that came from above, illuminating the ladder rungs.

He was in a cell that he could only describe as the dirtiest place on earth, and that was saying a lot considering he shared a bedroom with 4 boys who'd obviously never been told to clean up the room a day in their lives.

Harry hugged his knees to his chest as his eyes flickered around. He could still hear the men shouting from outside, and that was when he realized where he was.

The whole room rocked a little, and he realized he was on a boat. Or more likely, an old wooden ship.

And then he realized that the men who took him were probably pirates, and that he had been right. There were pirates in Neverland, and no one had believed him.

Well, now he was kidnapped, so he hoped they'd change their minds when they realized he was gone, or who knew what would happen to him.

The room rocked again and Harry fell onto his side as he decided that yeah, he was definitely on a ship of some kind and he was definitely in the dungeon.

He shakily sat back up, pressing himself into the corner as he tried (and failed) not to cry.

He was hyperventilating as he frantically wiped his tears, feeling more and more frightened as the seconds turned to minutes, and then turned to hours.

.

He had no perception of time, only that a filthy, tattooed man came down every now and then to give him a plate of festering food. He didn't even know what it was, let alone how fresh it was, so he didn't eat.

He didn't know how long had passed, but his stomach had stopped hurting from hunger and was just a dull throbbing. The man with the food had been down more times than Harry could count, but he didn't dare eat any of the food.

.

The hours turned to days and nights, Harry didn't know how many.

All the sounds from the deck above him were still there, but Harry didn't notice them as much. The men's shouting and the crashing waves had become ambiance.

Harry's head jerked up as the hatch above the ladder opened and the usual man appeared with his plate of food that he sure as hell wasn't going to touch.