Peter's Lily (Sequel to Pan's Tiger)

Chapter 35: Cowardly behaviour

Hey,
Thanks for reading. Sorry these chapters are quite short and a little tedious, I promise they'll get better soon!
Please vote and comment.
Enjoy,
Annabelle_the_reader
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was not a coward, never had been and most certainly didn't ever want to be a coward. So long as I breathed, I strived to keep myself safe, my magic safe and those I cared for safe. And I was sure that I would never submit to the notion of ever being cowardly. I would rather face my own death than be cowardly.

But something about the way I was cowering in the corner of my damp, dark cage, holding my breath whenever the thudding of footsteps and loud chattering moved past me or a Lost Boy casually ambled past, probably off to do whatever the hell Pan asked him to do like an obedient puppy, I would flinch.

I felt like a selfish coward.

But something about the way I sat, leaning against the bamboo walls to keep myself upright made me feel like even more of a coward. If I saw the way I was sitting now three days days ago, I would scream at myself, deny it or slit my own throat to never have to feel this way.

Did it make me cowardly to hide from the Lost Boys at the back of the crate? I didn't know. But what I did know was that they had taken so much away from me: my friendship with Baelfire, my native family, Oliver, Hook and my son. They had put me through so much excruciating pain, but did that give me the right to cower from the future? Would cowering even help? Probably not. The Lost Boys would still ignore me if I was silent, but if I let myself be known, I assumed they would become ruthless.

I knew where the cages were because, without even looking, I could smell the vegetable garden where the Lost Boys grow their vitamins and the smoke house where food was stores incase of a day without bad hunt. Pan always kept his cages by the vegetable garden and the smoke house because locked up among food when you are hungry is torture.

With a depressed sigh, I lifted my injured, broken wrist as high as I could take it in order to slacken the ropes the Lost Boys had placed there on my right palms. The higher I moved them, the less the tension there was on my wrists. They were already bruised and bleeding, there wasn't much more they could do to hurt me short of killing me.

My skin felt like it had been stabbed by a million sun-spears and scraped by sandpaper. My tongue was cloven to the roof of my mouth. It was like there was a dry, leathery in-sole wagging away at the back of my throat. My throat itself had the sensation that a reticulated python was trying to squeeze the life out of it. Even my eyes felt like they'd melted into the back of my mind, making everything seem mirage-like.

But none of this mattered. The dehydration, the nerves, the hunger, the pain, the blood, the sweat. Nothing mattered but this; the end game.

Everything felt  strange and untrue. But it doesn't matter because, for the first time in three days, Pan watched me from the outside of the cage. He didn't speak or move for half an hour. He just looked at me.

All I wanted was for him to knot his fingers through mine, so I wouldn't feel the slices and cuts and we could walk from that dark place for the last time. But that would never happen, Peter Pan was too angry and I was too stubborn.

Suddenly the cage was lowered and Peter Pan's smirk was visible between the bamboo. I shuddered. 'Am I free?' I whispered hopefully.

Peter smirked, 'Not yet, Tiger. We only realised you hadn't been fed in three days. Besides, Tiger, what would be the fun of playing with you in a cage?'

I cringed and felt like I was going to vomit the contents of my empty stomach. But I didn't have the energy to do anything but fall wearily into his arms, cold and exhausted. Peter grabbed some water from a cup beside him and gently tilted my head backwards, 'Drink, Tiger Lily, it's water.' He said softly, almost lovingly.