Between Sleep And Wake

Alice in Neverland

"I'm famished."

A feast of hearty portions was laid out in front of Alice that nearly made her salivate. At the center of the table rested a roasted chicken, with a smell ripping through the interior of the ship. It was sturdy, but flavorful. And she hadn't even tasted it yet!

The cooking went in rotation on the Jolly Roger and today she and Slightly had been designated to prepare dinner for everyone. James believed it was the proper way to distribute the daily chores between all the pirates.

Alice's skills were rather subpar, though everyone was always giddy with anticipation when it became Slightly's turn to cook. He was the exemplary chef.

He'd recently said to Alice, "I suppose all those years of being forced to cook for Peter honed my culinary talent," in a joking manner. An odd teasing spin of a cruelly dark situation.

Slightly had been a friend to Peter for a long time before Alice arrived in Neverland. Not brainwashed by Peter's emanating charm, but terrified of the boy's callousness and murderous disposition. Alice knew if she hadn't been there, Slightly would be dead now; killed once Peter decided his companionship was no longer desired.

She did wonder often why Peter never tried to kill her too. He never veiled his hatred for her during the months she was in his ugly hut. She was often disgusted with herself for allowing what transpired between them to happen.

Some nights she saw his unfeeling blue eyes and that unruly blonde hair atop his head, only to wake up and sense relief knowing it was a dream.

Or was it?

She didn't tell anyone.

When she was living back home, her family—particularly her sister—was convinced she was suffering from schizophrenzia, with no true evidence to support their diagnosis. It forced her into perpetual confinement. She could never go anywhere in the house without supervision.

There was a long debate concerning whether or not she required sedatives, but then Peter showed up in her bedroom and whisked her away to Neverland. She hadn't trusted him much, but at that point she barely trusted her own parents; she wouldn't lose much by leaving them.

It made her dread confiding in anyone about anything. Even if Slightly knew how invasive Peter could be, Alice didn't want to risk being told that it was all in her mind. If her own family was capable of doubting her mental stability and turning on her, anyone could be.

Alice liked Slightly, and she liked the other pirates, but she was still cautious of keeping everybody at a safe distance from her heart.

She blink and tried to swallow these negative thoughts. Now wasn't them time for them.

"You're always famished," she said to Smee, rolling her eyes. "We must wait for the others. It's impolite to begin without them." If they didn't Smee would gobble up the food in minutes like a carnivorous predator.

"They must not make us wait at all," Smee argued, his arm already reaching out for the roasted chicken.

Alice slapped his hand away. "No!" she exclaimed. "You are not a child."

A scowl ran over Smee's face, but the expression subsided and he retreated his hand. Alice knew he'd rather do as demanded instead of getting himself smacked by her again.

"You may have a bit if you'd like," Slightly said to him, giving him a polite smile.

The comment made Alice rolled her eyes. If Smee was given permission to eat a bit before the other pirates sat down, he would likely receive the impression it was acceptable to do on a regular basis.

"You are too kind," Alice commented, watching Smee gather food on his plate; in seconds it was overflowing with meats and dessert. This, however, didn't discourage from gathering more. She eyed him, waiting for when he would desist.

He caught her glare, and finally leaned back in his seat.

"He should not have to wait if he is hungry," Slightly said, his tone hinting how unbothered he was.

Smee devoured his massive portions so quickly that by the time the other pirates sat down he was on his second serving. No one else verbalized how irritated they were by his childish behaviour so Alice believed it best not to harp him either. She was constantly surprised that he hadn't yet gained extensive amount of weight from how much he consumed.

"Did you hear?" one of the other pirates, Turk, asked. "Another girl is living with Peter. Bones saw her this afternoon."

"How are you certain she is living with Peter?" Slightly asked, his dark eyes narrowed and brows knitted together.

"She was with that other . . . brown hair."

Alice knew whom he was referring to. She had never seen the other girl herself, but everyone living in the Jolly Roger was aware of a brunette who had been residing, apparently willingly, with Peter. Alice couldn't guess when she first arrived, but it was some time after her own escape. They called her brown hair since they did not know her true name.

"She had red hair," Turk continued. "I think I shall call her red hair. She didn't seem as daft as brown hair."

"How many times have I advised you not to call women daft?" Alice snapped. She never tolerated that word coming out of a man's mouth when it concerned describing her gender.

"All right. She was less wise," he corrected himself.

Alice rolled her eyes again.

The knowledge of a new prisoner made Alice anxious. She frequently did comtemplate just how many women fell victim to Peter throughout the years.

After all the miserable attempts she made to rescue poor little Tinkerbell, Alice forfeited further tries. However, that decision didn't deplete her mental debates—whether she should return and save brown hair. Now there was a second. She didn't know if she could keep discarding these worries. She knew how Peter treated people, how vindictive and simultaneously bewitching he was. She had fled, but she wasn't confident others were equally capable.

Perhaps it was now appropriate to stop the mental debating and take action.