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Her P.O.V.
"Pan. She's waking up."
"Move," that was him.
I scrunch my eyebrows together, trying to push my eyes open to see the brown canvas walls and wooden poles that make the room around me. The evil boy called Peter Pan stands over me. I'm on guard instantly, pushing harder to wake up by attempting to sit up but the spinning in my head drops me back against the pillows. Two masked boys stand behind the demon boy. I recognize one of the masks. The one that cuts off nearly diagonal underneath his nose to expose only his mouth, his cut mouth. He was the boy who held me down on my knees. The one I managed to shove away somehow. My eyebrows scrunch harder when the memory of how I forced him away, how I forced them all away without even making contact surfaces.
"Welcome back," the so called 'Peter Pan' says to me.
"You," my sleepy voice croaks.
"Yes, love, Peter Pan, that's what they call me," he says proud of his stupid introduction.
His smirk is right where I saw it when he last introduced himself. He's leaning over me, growing my defense. His brown hair stuffed into his hat. That small lock of hair still between his eyebrows and he still holds that damned calm and pleased with himself shield as a face.
"My, I must say...you've grown up, Jane. You were just a little girl last we met,"
I mumble something like 'idiot child', shaking the tired dizziness from my head. I fight to lift myself up but my skin feels so heavy.
"Where am I? Why am I-" his intimidating smile makes me hesitate, "here. Why am I here?"
"I was nearing to ask you the same question. How did you get here?" his expression changes to an easy dominant demeanor.
"A...a spirit..." I feel angry with myself for being tired and vulnerable in a room full of boys.
I push myself up receiving a dreadful rush but I refuse stay so weak. Peter Pan waves his hand and the two boys in masks exit the tent. He takes a seat on the edge of the cot I lay on, making my uneasiness overflow. It's not hard to admit to myself that a very real fear of him exists inside but at the same time, a very real anger wants to be stronger than my fear. I'm frustrated with the lasting effects of slumber. Infuriated that the boy can so easily keep his cool when he deserves to be absolutely and utterly miserable. The list in my head of all the things he's done to me begins growing as 'knocking me unconscious to hold me captive me in a canvas tent' was just added to it, right after 'kidnapping me'.
"What's your reason for being here?" His voice firm.
"I don't, I don't even know where..." I drift, my hand raising to my forehead to calm the foggy and rather dizzying sleeping that won't stop swimming in my head. "I've got some questions for you, Pan," I spit his terrible name, "Why were YOU in London all those years ago? Why-who even are you?" I nearly sound whiny.
