Monster // Peter Pan (Robbie Kay) (OUAT)

Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Id like to apologize in advance for this chapter. I'm well aware this is not my best work but I've been under a lot of stress in recent times. On top of the past two deaths I told you about, a boy named Brandon, whom had been friends with my cousin and was constantly over, and whose sister I've known, hung himself this past week. Everything is falling apart and I don't know what to do

Honestly the only thing keeping me sane is you guys. I check wattpad every 10 minutes to see if I've received a new comment. Comments are my favorite thing in the world and shoutout to the few of you who leave paragraphs. My heart poops its pants

Also, I've been receiving some questions, about writing and my own personal life, so I've been wondering if you guys could start asking questions about me in the comments and I'll answer a couple every update? Does that sound good? Because it'd mean a butt ton if you guys would like doing that!

I wrote this entire thing on my phone so please excuse any errors and/or crappy writing and/or formatting issues. All will be fixed. My computer is the ideal place to write and that couldn't happen most of the time. Thank youu for understanding haha

(Leave comments pls pls)

Last thing! I'd like to start giving a song recommendation out every chapter! (idk why) because what's the harm in it, you know?

Today's is "When I'm With You" by Best Coast (:

Chapter Fourteen

Days In Neverland: 20

It's been three days.

Three lingering, interminable days since the night of Oliver and I's rampage of uncontrollable screaming and fiery anger had passed with no end. Well, until now.

The humidity has been so high I could have drunken the air I breathed. I secretly anticipated leaden clouds and whimpering skies to roll over the island enough for a pounding rain, to end the ceaseless torture and savage temptation of drinking water. I had been granted one meal a day (cold eggs leftover from breakfast) one roll of bandage for my arm and hand, and dozens of mosquito bites. Sitting in this cage left me in helpless anguish, discomfort from bars to sleep on, and the repulsive stickiness of sweat and dirt underneath my clothes. My face was smeared with soot and my toes
crummy with grime. I'd kill for a bath.

I had torn a thin vine off the tree to the right of my cage and cut a small section off with Pan's switchblade to put my hair in a ponytail, just enough to get its frizzy, extremely curly and unfortunately wayward behavior out of the way and one less problem to worry about.

Other than feeling like a monkey with my hygiene and housing, I had the grueling opportunity to have three days of thinking all to myself.

My thought process has a deplorable habit that I will detest eternally, and that is briskly dwelling on the lovely things before I sink into the bothersome ones. And so, in the swirls of past times and current conditions, Kian happened to come up first.

All I could really think is how I missed him. How I missed and how I longed for everything about him. Our amity grew into an enthusiastic ardor, our sleepy naps radiating into cliffside kisses, and though I don't believe in love at first sight, I believe in fondness from the beginning. And that was Kian and I; we were devoted from the start.

Everything about him was absolutely bewitching. His smile was stunning enough to make the stars envy him. His brown eyes were more than brown, more than a forest in evening, more than a Polaroid in sepia, more than hazel nut cake. I couldn't begin to describe it, to describe the fact it was a staple of simplicity and yet so complicated. They were pools of 5rcocoa, wiry like the tree bark, dark like the freshest soil. Kian is a piece of work, from the pushed back brunette hair to the muscles beneath his
skin.