The Boy Named Peter Pan

Chapter 16: Last First-hand Despair

Endless.

The hours, the chase, everything seemed endless.

Hours that refused to go by as I kept running around the mansion and hiding, while praying I would not hear my name desperately being called.

After the first four hours, they ceased calling my name.

Before, they reckoned that my disappearance was an attempt to protest against the marriage proposal with Henry Norton. So determined that I was hiding somewhere, which was exactly the case.

Angst had turned into worry, then worry into defeat. It was my father who first suggested the idea, utterly exasperated with the matter of my disappearance.

"I am certain she is fine. Worst case scenario is her being in the forest. But knowing our daughter and how intimidated she appears all the time, she would not dare to walk too far in. I assume when the night falls, she will return. If not, then we shall let the police take over. I can not bear to bring this kind of ill-natured attention to our name."

"You are right. Considering how young she was when you first started taking her into the forest for hunting, I assume she already feels familiar with it. It's not impossible for her to go there."

Heaving a sigh, I leaned against the old tree trunk. It had been a hour since I had left my bedroom, but thankfully after father's announcement things had calmed down in the mansion. The maids were back to their work and for the last forty minutes, my parents had locked themselves in the study room. Even so, it was enough for me to catch my breath after the hectic game of hide and seek.

I looked up. It was almost time. One hour. Only one hour left.

I had to begin my closing act, then.

Clenching the piece of cloth in my knuckle, I rose to my feet. My clothes, already a dirty, soaking wet mess, felt filthy on my skin, which had also been bruised in a number of ways while I was lingering around the mansion. I had decided, however, to stay for the remaining time in the garden where I had come to know it was the safest hiding spot.

I shall begin.

Stretching my hand up, I snapped the closest and smallest branch in front of me and simultaneously placed the piece of cloth on the still intact branch. Smirking at my own wit, I briefly glared at the fabric, its owner's last shenanigan still irritating me. Did he honestly believe he was the only one with tricks up in his sleeve? I couldn't help but wonder if he had noticed the missing piece of fabric I had ripped off of his clothes when I pushed past him in order to get away but, by the looks of it, he might haven't.

Alright then.

Next, the branch. Tightening the grip around it, I approached the nearest window, after having made certain that both the curtains and window were closed. I would need my reflection for this, so each and every part of my body was in my range of vision. I braced myself, clenched my teeth and gripped tightly the one end of the broken branch, while pressing the sharp end against my left arm.

And I began.

Piercing the flesh with the pointy tip until blood began to drip, I began creating the detestable scar with the pointy tip from my forearm to my elbow. Painful as it was even to press it enough to bleed, I yelped at the shock of pain numbing my entire left arm. It was definitely not the safest route out, but I was short on tools.

I had to stop midway to calm my hectic breathing down, or at least wait for the excruciating pain to subside. The wound was already there, not to deep for blood to gush out but evident enough to serve its purpose. When I gained control of my breaths again, I resumed to drawing the tip farther down my arm while I bit down on my bottom lip in an attempt to hush my upcoming scream.