The Pretenders (ON HOLD)

chapter 27

Wendy pulled Peter to a halt just before they exited the school.

"Peter, do you remember anything that happened before you blacked out?"

He frowned and thought hard. He only remembered certain things. He remembered feeling strange, weak. It was like that time when he had the nightmare about Wendy. His whole had body just felt heavy and helpless, like he was wearing thick woolen clothes that were soaked with water. But then he remembered seeing Wendy crying for him and he remembered her saying something...what had she said? Either way, it was that moment, seeing her so upset and distressed, that's when he suddenly felt this surge of power. And then he blanked out.

"Not really," he replied, "I can't remember what happened after I started fighting back."

"Do you remember me saying anything to you?"

He thought hard again. Memories began to flash in front of his eyes.

"I think so."

Wendy studied him for a few seconds, blue eyes hesitant, "Forget about it."

So he did. He respected her wishes. It was the least he could do after causing so much trouble for her. If she wasn't ready to talk about something, then he would wait. She was a mystery to him and in many ways, he was fascinated by her. But he also feared for her.

The situation he had pulled her into had suddenly become a lot more real. This wasn't a game. They weren't pretending. Their lives were in danger. Her life.

They walked in silence, giving their nerves time to settle down. Peter felt completely free of injury before they even reached Wendy's house. At least, he thought, Wendy wasn't hurt. Was she?

He turned to check. The thought hadn't occurred to him before. He was just so relieved that they got out alive and well that he didn't even think to make sure Wendy was ok. He felt suddenly guilty.

Turning to look at her he saw four red fingernail marks on her left forearm. That must have been where the sub had grabbed her. His heart contracted when he saw that she was also limping slightly. In that moment, Wendy had a striking likeness to a porcelain doll; the fragile structure, the pale skin, the dark hair, the vibrant blue eyes and strawberry red lips.

He quickly put an arm around her, not wanting to see her limp another step. She looked up at him, those sapphire eyes curious and bemused.

"You're limping."

She frowned at herself, as if she hadn't noticed.

"And you're arm..." he trailed off, wincing as he saw the small trail of blood leading from the nail marks. His jaw clenched, "You're bleeding."

"Don't worry," she dismissed him, seeming annoyed at herself for being hurt, "I just hurt my ankle a bit when he pushed me to the ground. And I guess he was angry because he was holding on pretty tight to my arm." She examined the marks with distaste. He could see that she didn't like the sight of blood.

"Here," he offered, ripping a piece of his t-shirt off the side. She winced slightly as he tied the material around her arm, that delicate porcelain arm.

"I liked that shirt," Wendy grumbled as they began walking again. Peter shrugged. It was a white v-neck with a picture of a surfer standing in front of the ocean at sunset. He had another one like it at home. Clothes were just clothes to him. He liked to dress nicely but he didn't stress over it. Luckily his mum did most of the clothes shopping for him. She knew what was in fashion. For instance, she was the one who had picked the beige colored-jeans he was wearing. He grabbed his leather jacket from his bag and shrugged it on to hide the rip on his shirt.

"I like that jacket even more, so take care of it." Girls.

The Darling house came into view as they crossed the corner. Peter never noticed how large it was. But then again it did cater for a family of seven. Mr. Darling was waiting at the front door for them. He looked so much like Simon with his arms crossed and his brows knitted impatiently.

"Why are you late? I thought you were coming straight home today for the- Wait, what happened to your arm?" His expression quickly changed to one of genuine fatherly concern. Peter longed to see the same distress in his father's eyes when he was hurt, but he never did. One time Peter fell into a sharp piece of wood and received a long gash on his leg. His father bandaged it up without a word and told him not to go near the wood again. No sympathy, nothing. When his mother came home from work later that evening, she almost broke into tears at the sight of the bloodstained bandage around his shin. That's how real parents were supposed to act. His father wasn't real, he was just a pretender.

Wendy told her father that someone had been walking next to her and nearly tripped over. They had grabbed on to Wendy's arm to stop themselves from falling. Only, they grabbed so hard that their nails bit through her skin. She told him that the reason they were late was because Wendy had to go to the nurse's office to get the cuts bandaged up.

"That's a strange bandage," was all Mr. Darling said. He seemed satisfied with Wendy's story. Peter felt bad for making her lie to her father but he knew that telling him the real story would mean that he would probably never see Wendy again. Lying didn't seem so bad in comparison.

When her father turned around to go back into the house, Wendy had to hold onto Peter so she could hop up the stairs. He fought the urge to carry her up because he felt like he needed to repay her for the pain he'd caused. Every wince that escaped her mouth was follow by a stab of guilt in Peter's chest.

"I promised not to let anyone hurt you," he whispered, his voice pained and vulnerable, "Now look at you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," she told him, "I could have very well hurt my ankle just walking up these damned porch steps. I'd much rather have an injury from an adventure that from some stupid steps. Physical pain isn't what hurts anyway. If you don't want to hurt me, then stay. Please."

He nodded in acceptance. Physical pain isn't what hurts? He wasn't sure what she meant. Was he in charge of guarding her heart now? But how could he guard it when he felt as though he might be the one to break it? Not on purpose of course. Peter knew he could be oblivious sometimes. It was through this obliviousness that he feared he would break her fragile heart.

He understood the other part of what she said though; that she saw this as an adventure. But this wasn't some storybook tale. There were no happy endings. People would get hurt. People would cry. The bad guys would probably win. But for the sake of living up to the reputation children had of being blissfully ignorant, he would pretend that this was a story. The men trying to kill him would be the villains. And he and Wendy, they would be the naively optimistic teens who told themselves that they could win despite the odds. Who pretended they had. a chance at all. They would be the pretenders.

And so begins their story.

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Sorry guys I know this chapter is a bit short but i really wanted to end it on that line. Ill try and upload longer chapters from now on :)

If you can write then comment below and if you can read then hang in there because there's plenty more to come :P