Peter Pans Lost Girl (OUAT)

the first lost girl

disclaimer- I do not own most of these characters, most credits go to the writers of once upon a time. Thank you everybody for your support, keep in mind for bolded words as they as relevant hints with some insight. also this story may contain a few swear words so if you dislike that maybe this isn't the story for you, and now I give you this story. - areej

The song for this chapter is Lost Boy by Ruth B

lost -| irrecoverable, unable to be found.

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Crystal's POV

"Crystal, look at this. Leaving your poor defenceless, vulnerable mother to die right here on this very spot. Why? Oh right, because you're weak and defenceless, and even pathetic, just like her" a cold sneer etched on his face. Those words were echoing through my mind on repeat. I hung my head lowly. I was useless and powerless. I couldn't even stand up for myself, or my broken and shattered family. We were like broken glass, you tread carefully but you'll still end up getting hurt.

My names Crystal, and well, everyday my irrational ignorant excuse of a 'father' would get drunk, and he would abuse me, as a way to take out his pent up anger when under the influence. But today was different, eerie, more solemn, another day to forget for him. But I never would. I despised it, being inferior to somebody, just because they lost their character as well as morals, and a sense of ability, just because of an addiction. The pain never truly goes away, that's a dream we all wish to see, but the world doesn't work like that.

When he came home around 12, as per usual and started beating my mother rather than me, I knew something was wrong, which is ludicrous. He never touched her with more than verbal insults, But this time, she tried to stick up for me for once, which did not make any sense to me, she's tolerated it before, if she really wanted to help, she would've just left. His habits were atrocious and useless. "She's just a child. Our child." She said in a hushed tone, I scoffed and narrowed my eyes, I was most definitely not either of their's. Saying it in a hushed voice won't make me feel any more or less protected for once, because she couldn't do anything as it was.

I sat huddled in the corner, hopeless, alone, in solitary. I felt horrified for myself, because I had nowhere to go, I didn't have a real home, or a real family. I never understood how anyone could fall in love with a demon. A nasty, bloody demon like my father, perhaps he wasn't all bad, but if he really loved her, why would he do this? Why does she stay?

I heard a thump and winced, he hit her so vigorously, on her forehead she fell to the ground limp, peaceful, still. My eyes stung with cold, useless tears. A new burning hatred, the taste for revenge, something new to me, filled my blood, and coursed through my veins, it felt toxic. Like fire and ice.

"Your a monster" I say with a look of disgust attempting to tear him away from her. I ran at him with all I had, it wasn't much for somebody as colossal as him, I wasn't exactly the "strongest person" especially when I was so broken right now, I was fighting on raw emotion and pain.

He just threw me out of the way like a rag doll. I was no match for him. Not with his burly arms, and years of wrestling, or the fights in the bars, which must have paid off. With one last glare at him I shook my head and murmured "You were never my father. I hate you"

I remember, a time when everything was fine, when my dad wasn't addicted. But my mother never told me how the cause of addiction was triggered, ever since it's been the same story told again and again, every single day.

I run to my tiny room and cry. Cry for all those years of taunting, cry because of everything my so called dad has done. I yearn for how it used to be, but its much to late for that. Cry because I couldn't help my own mother I was simply a mere weakling and all those lonely nights where I would pretend I was alright because pretending was all I had left to shroud me away from the realities of this harsh, cruel world. But pretending doesn't do much. Not when I get constant reminders of life, not when I could still hear the faint sound of my mothers pained whimpers, and I couldn't do a single thing, just as she just could not leave him.