The Dark Days

Seven.

I'm scared to wake up. But facing my fears, to me, is easier than hiding from them. I force my eyes to open and don't squint at the suddenly bright atmosphere. My eyes take time to adjust and when they do I notice that I'm not in that stupid box. Or the hideout, for that matter. I'm in a rather dim room full of dust and old junk, on my back on a small, uncomfortable couch. I blink rapidly to make sure I'm not hallucinating and then scan my surroundings. My head turns to the right, where my gaze meets a wall. I look up at the ceiling again, seeing nothing of importance, and then look to my left. I instantly wish I could turn invisible.

Peter Pan (in his own body) is sitting next to me in an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. With his arms crossed. Glaring at me, through bloodshot eyes. If looks could kill, I would have died as soon as our eyes met. And I wish I had.

All I can do is stare with wide, fearful eyes, waiting for him to speak. He just glares at me for a good long while before getting the idea. "I see you're awake," he growls, and his voice makes me flinch. It's rough, as if he hasn't drank very much water lately, and exhausted. Not to mention bitter, angry, hurt, betrayed, and just a teeny, teeny tiny bit of relief. "That's good." I gulp and look down, picking at a stray string on the thick quilt covering me.

There's more awkward silence. I don't know what to say, and Peter clearly has nothing to say. He's literally turning red he's so angry with me. He stands abruptly, making me jump. I slowly sit up, aware of the horrible pain in my stomach, and cross my arms tightly over my chest.

Peter looks like he wants to say a million things, but he doesn't seem to know how to start. It takes him a minute to decide what to ask first. "Why?" he says simply, his voice emotionless and cold. It's more of an order than a question.

I think my answer over carefully in my head. One misunderstanding could possibly be the end of me. Finally I sigh, tears coming into my eyes. "Because you can't see it," I say quietly.

"See what?" There's a little emotion in his voice, but I can't tell what that emotion is.

"Exactly," I whisper, my voice breaking and my tears falling. "You can't see it. Even after I nearly died trying to show you.... You can't see it."

"See what, Kasey?!" he demands, suddenly gripping my shoulders.

"ANY OF IT!" I scream, catching the both of us by surprise. "You can't see any of it!"

He releases my shoulders and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. He's breathing heavily, trying to contain his anger.

I'm so scared.

He freezes, his eyes widening.

Wait, did I say that out loud?!

Peter stumbles back one step. "You're... scared? Of me?"

I look down at the quilt.

"Kasey, you know I would never intentionally hurt you, yes?" He kneels down beside me, his eyes shocked and astounded and a little sad.

"I.... Well...."

"Well what?" he asks, his voice losing emotion.

"Well I don't know!" I snap, angry. I take a deep breath and try and control my anger. "I feel like I don't know you anymore. I feel like the Peter I fell for is gone, buried somewhere. Somewhere deep and dark, and I'll probably never find him again." My voice lowers as my anger fades. "I feel like I'm in love with a complete stranger."

"Stranger?" he demands, confused. "You said it yourself, I'm the same person you fell in love with."

I don't remember standing up, but suddenly I'm standing right in front of him, getting into his face. "I. Was. Wrong!" I shout. "The Peter I love would never force me to do this! The Peter I love would know what I mean when I call him blind! The Peter I love wouldn't shove me into a magic box and parade around town wearing the skin of a twelve-year-old boy, seducing me and being the monster he tries so hard not to be!" My hands curl into fists. "The Peter I love wouldn't make me take drastic measures to make him finally freaking see what this crap is doing to me!" I begin to cry. "The Peter I love wouldn't leave me all alone! The Peter I love wouldn't let me get lost in the woods! The Peter I love would have COME HIMSELF WHEN I CALLED HIM!" I suddenly feel dizzy and back up until my calves touch the couch, making me lose balance and plop onto it. I look away from Peter Pan and to the floor, trying to stop my tears. He doesn't move; He's frozen in his place, staring at the area where my face was previously at and is now just empty air.

I sniffle and try to wipe my tears off my face. Through my blurry vision, I see Peter kneel down in front of me. I angle my face away from him and try to hide it with my hand. Suddenly his hand is on mine, his gentleness making me jump. I look up at him and am astonished to see his soft eyes and expression. He takes my hand off my face and holds it while his other hand wipes my tears away. When all the tears are gone his hand cups my cheek and slowly brings our foreheads together. We sit like that for a moment before he pulls back, kissing my forehead and standing. "Come," he says, helping me stand as well. "You must meet my brothers." He pulls me behind him, towards a wooden staircase leading up to a baby blue door. His hand is still wrapped around mine, and it makes me feel safe for the moment. We reach the top of the staircase and Peter slowly opens the door, looking one way, then the other. Obviously satisfied, he looks back at me and winks before stepping out and turning right, down the hall.

"Peter?" I ask quietly, making him stop and turn around to look at me. "Where am I? What is this place?"

"It's where the Lost Boys all live now," he says gently, brushing a lock of my still-straight hair out of my face. "It's really a very beautiful place. I'll give you a tour in a moment." It doesn't take us long to come to a rather large room decorated with furniture, a coffee table and a bookshelf lining the wall. "Boys!" Peter barks as he leads me to a comfortable single-seater chair and lets me sit in it. I sit, but don't let go of his hand.

I hear them before I see them. Hoots and hollers and lots of loud noises ring through the silence as fifteen boys line up before us, coming from all over the house. Felix is the last to come, and he walks casually, much to my relief, to line up with the others.

"I would like to introduce you to someone," he says proudly.

Oh please no.

"Kasey," he looks down at me, "meet the Lost Boys."