Song Prompts One-Shots

Fly Me to Neverland

Somewhere in Neverland by All Time Low

Fly Me to Neverland

Wendy, run away with me-

I clawed at my ears drastically, trying to get the voices out of my head. I was screaming loudly to the point where I was beginning to taste blood in my throat. I brought my knees up to my chest and dropped my head on top of my knees, closing my eyes and putting my fingers in my ears to block out any noise.

Voices echoed through my head, repeating the same line over and over again: Wendy, run away with me.

"That's not my name! That's not my name!" I cried as salty tears started to dribble down my face and drop onto my dry and crack lips.

I was shaking horribly by this point and I was beginning to have trouble breathing. I lifted up my head and began coughing in a vain attempt to clear my throat. All I ended up achieving was the dark red spew of blood dropping into my hand in a stomach churning mess.

I wiped my hand on the white . . . snow? I don't remember going outside.

Only when I realized my location and predicament did I begin to feel a chill course through me. I shivered and pulled my arms closer towards my body and began running my hands along them in hopes of warming myself up.

I was in thin purple star print pajama pants and a matching purple T-shirt. I wasn't wearing any shoes, or socks for that matter. I stared down at my toes, wiggling them to slow the progression of numbness.

Now that I had something to put all of my focus on, despite how menial it was, the voices had grown silent, almost like they were gone. I knew better though. They were never gone, they went into hibernation and only came out when I had dropped my mental guard and was most vulnerable.

Hey!

No! I am focusing! I can't hear you!

I dropped my head back onto my knees with a loud thunk, already feeling the growing bruise.

"Hey." This wasn't a voice in my head. This was real.

I lifted my head up slowly, hoping it wasn't just my vivid imagination. Crouched next to me was a bright red haired male around my age, or a little older. He was wearing a leaf green sweatshirt and faded dark green skinny jeans. His dark eyes were rimmed with worry and concern.

My eyes flicked over him several times, taking in everything I was looking at before me. I was searching for a niche in the boy, something to show me that this was my imagination toying with me. I was already hearing voices, why not make projections too?

The male held his hand out towards me and I stared at it, before going back to staring into his eyes. He couldn't be real, he was all too familiar with me, yet I could not place where from.

"I won't hurt you, if that's what you're thinking." I didn't say anything, just stared at him in silence. He gave me a soft smile and pulled his hand back. "You're also probably thinking that's what all killers say."

Again, he was met with silence. I couldn't trust him. He could still be just a mirage, something my subconscious has created to mess with me. This is what I get for not taking the various colored pills I'm given everyday.

"If it makes you feel better, my name is Peter." He -Peter- said. He returned his hand outstretched back towards me, waiting patiently.

I swallowed, slightly terrified. I expect this boy to be a figment of my imagination, but a part of me, a very small part, wants him to be real. I want to prove to myself I haven't quite fallen off my declining cliff of sanity just yet.