Peter Pan The Killer

Chapter 16: Peter Pan Twists your Words

Gwen went home that day with a belly filled with delicious food and a mind occupied with studies and a criminal. She decided she would pop in some extra revision before she went to bed. After a nice bath, she flipped open her huge biology textbook and uncapped her highlighter. She managed a good ten minutes of full concentration before a voice made her jump out of her skin.

"You must be really confident, Wendy," said a familiar mischievous voice.

Gwen whipped her head to see none other than the killer, sitting on the windowsill, leaning against the side in a relaxed position. Gwen jumped out of her seat. Now that he had chosen to reveal himself, unlike the previous times he dropped by, Gwen still could not wrap her mind around the fact that he was indeed the killer.

"You're just making me want to tease you even more, Wendy," he said, a mischievous smirk spread across his face.

"Stop calling me Wendy," she said, gritting her teeth.

"But it's your name. And it suits you," he said, getting down from the windowsill. Gwen backed away, but he was quicker. Within seconds he had reached and cornered her.

"Isn't that right?" he said in a low voice, peering into her face, the grin still tugging on his lips. Gwen wanted to slap it off his face. If this was how he wanted to play, she could not cower in fear.

"I'm not Wendy, much less your Wendy," she spat back yet he still smirked. He glanced over at her desk filled with books.

"I'm genuinely hurt that you take me so lightly," he said with fake hurt.

"Or do you just want me to win?" he said, a smile replacing his pout. He leaned closer, pinning her against the wall.

His eyes lit up with pure madness, intense green irises glittering with insanity. A chill crept up Gwen's spine as she got trapped in his gaze. His eyes were hypnotic; she could not look away. In the next instant, she found her mind in another world. She was staring at a bitter scene once again. She found herself in her sister's bedroom. Her deceased sister was well and alive, she stood by her window, a look of longing etched on her face.

Gwen tried to reach her, but she could not move. Sparkling drops of water trickled down Anna's cheeks, pain contorted her face. Only then did Gwen notice, a blade dragging its way across her forearm in her hand. Red lines destroyed her smooth skin, yet Anna kept going over and over her skin with the sharp tool. As if the pain relieved her.

"This is not a memory. It is a nightmare. You're planting it in my head," Gwen spoke. Appearing next to her was the killer, both of them apparitions in this world of dreams.

"No, it's not a dream. It's a memory," he said.

"Not yours, of course. But mine," he said, right behind her, his breath tickling her ears.

"I saw your sister, seeking freedom through pain," he whispered into her ears.

Gwen stared at her sister, crying on the floor, blood dripping from her hands. She was in agony. What caused her such agony? Gwen felt a sob choking her throat. The scene vanished around her. She found herself back, staring at the murderer's bright green eyes. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, she bit her lip hard to stop a sob from escaping her throat.

"You... Killed her," she said. The killer arched a dusky blonde brow.

"I saved your sister from her sorrow and pain, Wendy. I did not kill her," he said.

He placed a cold hand on her cheek and wiped away her tears. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"You did."

-----------------------------
The killer disappeared not long after. Gwen laid on her bed. Her ideas of studying were thrown out the window. She was in an emotional mess she just could not get out of. Her sister was not only depressed but self-abusive, and she had no clue. She refused to believe the truth was what he showed her. It must have been a twisted nightmare, a trick he usually played on her. Yet a wrenching feeling in her gut told her otherwise. It felt real, in a strange instinctual way; she knew it was the truth.

Was she wrong about her sister not being the same as the killer's other victims? Was she lonely and trapped in this world?

Yet again, it only reminded Gwen that she was too late. Two seconds too late that day, to stop her sister from taking Peter Pan's hand and jumping to her death. Was it Anna's choice? If so, did she need to seek revenge? When it was her fault all along?

It was like falling into an abyss, knowing no way out. Losing purpose as she fell, losing reasoning for her actions. It was right before she slammed into the cold bottom of the abyss when she realised she was playing to the killer's tunes. Gwen's eyes snapped open, and she sat up in her bed. She almost lost it. He almost won. So easily at that. Gwen underestimated him. He was more skilled in this game than she was.

Rubbing her face with her hands, she sighed. She had not lost purpose; her reason was a blur at the moment. Her sister's depression was still not a reason for her to die. Or kill herself. This so-called Peter Pan had no reason to lure them to suicide. These people needed help to free themselves from their mental cages. Their different perspectives made her resolve clearer once again. Killing was not an option to save someone. Healing their hearts is what it takes.

Once again, she slept that night with the adamant goal to stop Peter Pan the Killer.