Saving Neverland [+16]

Chapter 2

HAILEY DARLING

The sun had gone down several hours ago and Meg had just dropped me off at home. I knew my mother would be beyond angry that I was coming home at 10pm, but it was still my birthday. I didn't care if she was still up. My exhausted body just wanted to crawl into bed. She could give me a lecture in the morning.

The house was quiet, slipping through the door. Not a single light was on. My hand felt against the wall for the light switch. I flipped it, but nothing turned on. My eyebrow raised confused. Our neighbors had power, so why didn't we?

"Mom!" I called out, carefully stepping forward. I didn't want to bump into any furniture. "Mom!" I made my way to the stairs, grabbing the bottom handle for support. We kept extra flashlights in a table drawer next to the staircase. Reaching my hand forward, I felt the handle and opened it, searching for a flashlight. My fingers brushed against various items until they finally closed around a small, sturdy flashlight. With a click, I turned it on, casting a dim beam of light around the darkened foyer.

"Mom?" I called out again, my voice echoing through the silent house. Still, there was no response. Frowning, I made my way towards the living room, shining the flashlight around as I went. Everything seemed normal at first glance, but an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

As I passed a closet, the door suddenly swung open, revealing a yawning black void. Before I could react, a strong hand shot out and pulled me inside, muffling my startled cry with its palm. My heart raced in my chest as I struggled against the unseen assailant, panic rising within me.

But then, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized that the hand belonged to my mother. Relief flooded through me, quickly followed by confusion as I took in her tense expression.

"He's here," she whispered urgently, her voice barely above a breath.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "Who?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Her grip on my mouth loosened, and she gazed at me with haunted eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about him sooner," she said, her voice trembling with fear and regret.

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of her words. Who could she be referring to? My father? But he had been absent from our lives for as long as I could remember, and my mother never spoke of him.

"Mom, what are you talking about?" I pressed, my heart pounding in my chest.

But before she could answer, a sound echoed through the darkness, sending a chill down my spine. It was a soft, eerie melody, barely audible over the rustle of the wind outside. And as the notes drifted through the air, I felt a cold dread settle over me.

"He's here," my mother whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "Peter Pan." My eyes narrowed in confusion. Peter Pan was a fairy tale story. At that moment, I realized my mother's paranoia was sicker than I thought.

"Mom, Peter Pan is a fictional character." I insisted, my voice tinged with disbelief. "This doesn't make any sense."

My mother shook her head, her eyes pleading for understanding. "Hal, listen." She said, her voice trembling. "Peter Pan has been visiting our family for generations ever since your great-great grandmother Wendy. He's been looking for a girl on a scroll, who he believes is the one. His true love. The queen of Neverland."

My breath caught in my throat as I processed my mother's words. The queen of Neverland? It sounded like something out of a storybook, and yet my mother's fear was visible. Her eyes flickered to the ground for a moment, and I could tell she was trying not to cry.

"Hailey, it's you." She whispered, flickering her eyes up to mine. "You're the one he's been looking for."

My heart pounded inside my chest as I tried to wrap my head around this. "Me? Why?" I questioned. I felt a surge of fear and confusion.

"I don't know." She admitted, tears shimmering in her eyes. "But he's here, and he won't stop until he finds you."

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air as I struggled to comprehend the word she was saying. "He wasn't supposed to come yet. Not for another two years." My mother continued, her voice trembling with fear. "Something must be wrong if he's early." My head tilted at her words.

"Early?" I repeated and my mother nodded. Frustration boiled in my body. "Wait, you knew this would happen and didn't say anything?" I questioned, my voice raising.

Tears welled up my mother's eyes as she met my gaze, her expression filled with guilt and sorrow. "I'm sorry." She whispered. She reached out and gripped onto my hands, holding them tightly. "I wanted to protect you, Hailey," she confessed, her voice choking with emotion. "I thought I had time to explain. I-"

A loud bang reverberated through the house, causing both of us to jump. Fear gripped my heart as my mother's grip on my hands tightened. "We have to get to the bunker," she told me urgently, her voice quivering with anxiety. "It's the only place you'll be safe."

I nodded, my mind reeling with a mixture of fear and confusion. Holding onto her tightly, my mother slowly opened the closet door and peered her head out. After a moment's hesitation, she motioned for me to follow, and together we stepped out into the hallway.

The house felt eerily silent as we made our way towards the backdoor in the kitchen, leading out to the bunker. But before we could reach it, a voice echoed in the air, sending shivers down my spine.

"Where do you think you're taking her, Darling?"

We froze in our tracks. The voice coming from nowhere and everything at the same time. My mother's grip on my hand tightened even further as she glanced around frantically, her eyes wide with terror.

"We have to hurry," she whispered urgently, but as we turned to make a break for the backdoor, a figure appeared out from the shadows, blocking our path. The figure was tall, a young man wearing a hood that obscured most of his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light, fixed on me with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. His smirk was unsettling, as if he knew something I didn't.

"So, you're the one Peter Pan seeks," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "The queen of Neverland." His words sent a chill down my spine, and I glanced at my mother, who stared back at him with wide eyes. Her next words gave me a sliver of hope.

"You're not Peter Pan."