Neverland

Chapter 7

I went two days without seeing or hearing anything from Kate. She’d even stopped answering the door for Socks, and she wouldn’t talk to anyone. I don’t know why she hated us so much. We did save her life after all, and I don’t know what Hook wanted with her, but if he came all the way to Neverland for it, it couldn’t have been good.

I was lying in bed, and drifting off to sleep when I felt it. Something was wrong on my island. I sat bolt upright, and swung my legs out of bed. I closed my eyes and concentrated, casting a quick spell so I could view my surrounding area without having to search it myself.

I saw her. She was running, her new cloak pulled over her head, and her crossbow slung across her back. She looked over her shoulder, and I saw fear and determination in her eyes. She was trying to leave Neverland. I heard a roar and a scream, but I couldn’t tell if it was in my vision, or if the noise was reaching my ears all the way in my tent.

I shot out of my little room and sped off into the night. I saw her collapsed on the ground, staring at the beast towering over her in horror. I cut in between them, and made a quick, sharp gesture towards the monster. It staggered backwards, shrinking until it was no more than a tiny common field mouse.

I turned on Kate, “You never venture into these woods alone until you know what you’re dealing with.” I was furious. She could have been killed. “I had my crossbow,” she retorted defensively, but it was weak, and more of a whine than a comeback. “Yeah, well some good it did you!” I couldn’t believe this. “You could have been killed! Who knows how that thing got here. It was probably left on the island, with the knowledge you’d stumble across it somehow.” I was pacing back and forth, ignorant to the silent tears pouring down her face. “How could you possibly be so stupid? Kate, no one leaves this island without my permission. Do you hear me? No one!” I shouted, finally facing her. She looked so pitiful and small, lying there. Her face tear streaked and filled with terror. “ Come on.” I said, pulling her to her feet by her elbow. “Where are we going?” she asked quietly. “Well you obviously can’t be trusted to stay put on your own, so you’ll be staying in my tent tonight.” The thought seemed to terrify her.

We stepped into my tent, and I sat down on the ground. “You can take my bed,” I said. “It’s your room,” she answered. Her voice was uncharacteristically  timid, “I’ll sleep on the floor and you take the cot.” I gave her a look, and she shrunk back. “You look like you need sleep more than I do,” I said. She smiled faintly, “Have you even seen the circles under your eyes? Peter, take the bed. It’s yours. I shouldn’t even be here.” “Yes, you should be here, because I say you should be here, and I also say that you are taking the cot.” “Fine.” She let out a sigh and sat down with a humph. I blew out the lantern, and laid down on the ground. “If I get the cot, you get the blanket. It’s a compromise.” The blanket dropped on me, and I had to suppress a smile. Though it could get annoying, I couldn’t help but admire her persistence. “Well, goodnight, Kate,” I said a bit awkwardly. She was quiet, and I could hear the rustling of the leaves in the trees outside. “Thank you, Peter,” she whispered, “for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, listening as her breathing slowed into a deep steady rhythm. It wasn’t until I was positive she was asleep that I myself surrendered to the grasping clutches of slumber.

Kate’s POV

I fell asleep surprisingly quickly, since my starved body was weak, and tired easily. But in sleep, I found no rest. My mind flew straight into a dream. No. Not a dream. A nightmare.

I was back in my house in South Carolina. My step mom was having one of her tantrums, and, as usual, I was the source of her anger

“You are a disgrace!” she shouted, wielding her carving fork. “How could I be anything else living with you all these years!” I answered. Her face contorted into a look of rage. “How. Dare. You.” She hissed, “Insult me when you walk around looking like that,” she gestured to the tank top I was wearing, “You’re such a little slut!” “At least I’m not a cold hearted bitch!” I knew I shouldn’t let her get under my skin, but I was tired of taking all her shit year after year. She lunged at me and drove the carving fork deep into my shoulder. I gasped, but didn’t scream. She ripped it back out, and I watched as my blood dripped from the cold metal prongs. She tossed it in the sink. “Clean that up.” And she was gone. I collapsed against the counter, my hand traveled shakily up to my shoulder. I could feel the warm, fleshy punctures in my skin. As I drew my hand back toward my face, it was covered in blood. Shaking, I grabbed a hand towel and pressed it to the wound, attempting to stem the blood flow. Tears streamed down my face as I sunk to the floor.