Lost (A Once Upon A Time / Peter Pan Fanfic)

Chapter 6- Story Of My Life

Chapter 6- Story of My Life

          Peter began walking in the direction, I assumed, of the camp, pulling me along with him. As we walked I slipped my hand out of his. He glanced at me worriedly, but I shrugged it off, I wasn’t comfortable with physical contact, I never had been. 

          We kept walking in silence for several minutes, until finally we emerged back in the clearing. The boys were all scattered around.  Some were sword fighting, some were shooting arrows or throwing knives at targets, and others were sitting in a small circle telling stories.

          When they noticed Peter and I they all stopped what they were doing and stared at me in silence. I shifted uncomfortably under there gaze, my eyes flitted to Peter’s nervously.

“Boy’s this is Alex, she’s going to stay with us for a while.” Peter said breaking the silence.

          They glanced uneasily from me, to each other, then to Peter, and back to me again.

          “So tell us about yourself Alex.” Peter prompted me, sitting down on a log near the center of the clearing.

          As if on cue the boys all joined him, pulling logs together so they formed a circle.

          “I’m not sure where to start.” I mumbled quietly sitting next to Peter, and keeping my eyes on the ground.

          “”just start at the beginning.” One of the boys called out

          I sighed. “Alrighty then” I rubbed my hands together nervously.

“My name is Alexandra; I don’t have a last name. I was born In Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on July 28 1996. After giving e birth to me my mother left the hospital without a trace, leaving me abandoned.

From there I was sent to my first foster home. When I was 4 my foster parents, the two older foster kids and I were in a deadly car crash. I was the only survivor. Then I was sent to another Foster home. But I was traumatized by the accident.  I refused to talk to anyone, and whenever I was in a car I would have a panic attack and hyperventilate.  By the time I was 6 I was sent back to social services, because I was “difficult.”

They sent me to my Third Foster home. This one was not as nice as the others. The parents were almost never home, and the other kids were cruel. It started with harmless teasing. Then in turned to taunting. Then physically abusing me. At first I didn’t do anything. But then I began to fight back. They would punch me I would punch back. Of course the foster parents noticed when the older kids began sprouting black eyes and bruises, so I was sent back again.

           By this time I was 9. I was sent to my fourth and final home. This was a special home where they sent “difficult children” like me. It was terrible.  We were barley fed, we were forced to do housework all day, they didn’t even send us to school. It continued like this for several years. Then one night, when I was 11,  the parents came home they were drunk and angry because one of the other kids had tried to run away. The father flew into a rage and began throwing anything he could get his hands on at us. At one point he threw a flower vase at my head, and I screamed in pain when the glass embedded its self in my scalp. He then turned his attention to me and began punching the hell out of me. Eventually I was knocked unconscious.

I hoped I would die from blood loss, but of course I was not that lucky. I woke up the next morning to a surprisingly empty house. I knew this was my chance and I took it. I took all the money I could find in the house, along with some basic supplies, a backpack spare set of clothes, and a small knife, and ran away.

For the next 2 years I lived on the streets, traveling from city to city, stealing money and valuables from unsuspecting bystanders. When I was 13 though I got to be more clever . I would pretend to be an innocent girl, I would walk up to men in a bar and pretend to be a “damsel in distress” per say. They of course would bring me back to their apartment, and I would promptly knock them out, help myself to any food, money, clothes, and technology I found there that I could use.

When I was 16 I stole the files containing the identity of my mother from the hospital, and managed to track her down. But when she figured out who I was she wouldn’t even talk to me. She had her friend tell me that she didn’t want me and that she was better off without me in her life.”

I didn’t even realize that I was crying until I tasted the salty tears on my tongue. I glanced around at my audience expecting them to be falling asleep from boredom, but to my surprise they were all staring at me attentively, and some were even on the verge of tears.

“I got in my car and drove, had a mental break down fell asleep and woke up here. The end.” I finished quickly, wiping the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand. Once I was composed I lifted my head and met Peter’s gaze          

“Your Turn. Give Me Answers.”

“What’s the magic word?” he teased, smirking

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him “Now.”

I heard some of the boys laugh and snicker, and Peter’s smile instantly vanished as he glared at me.

I held his gaze for a moment before raising one eyebrow mischievously “well, If you won’t tell me anything, I’m sure one of these other nice boys.” I gestured around the circle “will.”  

The boys looked unsure and murmured amongst themselves unhelpfully. I rolled my eyes as I turned back to Peter

“Start talking or I’ll leave again.”  I stated

“And I’ll just find you again.” He retorted evenly

“I’ll hide.”

“No matter how well you hide I’ll be able to find you.”

“What makes you so certain?” I shot back

He gestured around the circle, at the boys “I have numbers, and numbers means eyes, this Island is only so big, eventually once of us will see you.”

“Hold up.” I cut him off “I’m on a God damn island?”

He looked uncertain

I slipped my knife out of my boot, and twirled it in between my fingers, and smiled at him innocently.

“Fine, I’ll tell you.” He said quietly “but not here.” His eyes flitted nervously around the circle of boys.

I sighed and stood up and began walking towards  the woods.

“Wait why are you leaving?” he caught up to me and grabbed my arm.

I pulled away from him “I’m going somewhere ‘not here’” I made quotations with my hands “so you can give me answers.”  I continued walking, leaving him no choice but to follow me.

** there ya go hope you enjoyed, if you did please vote.

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