Between Sleep And Wake

Regret

High above the sky, floating in the midst of foggy clouds, was Peter with a bow and arrow, positioned to attack. Here, he remained unseen to the naked eye, making it easier for him to target his food.

In retrospect, he regretted yelling at Wendy. He wanted her to trust him and his behaviour had created a large setback in their progressing relationship. Even if she had made dinner that night.

Meticulous, he watched, eyes attentive and arrow pointed to the bird flying between the trees. A large, sharp beaked, feathered friend with dark plummage made calls that sounded like angry, loud hissing, as it soared.

One shot and it screeched, dropping to the ground. Peter dashed down, seeing the injured creature flailing, its black feathers reddening with thick blood. He had to bend down and break the neck with force, the bones cracking like weak branches.

He had learned to find food at a very young age. No one else was looking after him, except Tinkerbell. But she was small. Strong and determind, but small. She brought him nuts and plants to keep him fed, but it lasted a short time.

The base and foundation of his hut was built by the colonization of fairies that lived in Neverland. Tinkerbell had requested their assistance, because it would be impossible for her to assemble it singlehandedly.

He lived there alone for a long time, and during that time Tinkerbell was his only friend. Yet he yearned for more. Others like himself. Ones who would like to play and have fun, who could experience the magical wonder of Neverland.

Sometimes he missed the other fairies. They were kind to him; they helped him when he was too young to navigate this land by himself. However, sacrifices had to be made for the better. With sacrifices came very unfortunate losses. If they were still here, Wendy would have already been gone.

A girl's life was worth more than the lives of little fairies. A girl's life was worth more than all the Lost Boys and the pirates combined. He would kill anyone for Wendy. He would destroy everything if he was obligated to. One day, she would realize that and she would be grateful for all that was done solely for her.

Once he arrived by the hut, he gutted the bird before going inside. He handed it off to Dorothy to cook. Wendy was situated by the window, reading.

"Would you like some help?" she asked.

"No, but thank you," Dorothy replied, smiling. "You should keep reading! You seem very focused!"

"I will return in a moment," Peter said, walking into his room and closing the door. He walked towards the drawers and opened the one Tinkerbell was in.

"How long do you think you can keep fooling her?" she asked him.

"Hello to you too," he said, his tone laced with sarcasm.

"Do not hello me!" she muttered. "Just say the words and rid me of my misery!"

"Why would I? You are still my friend. You are safer here than you are out there."

Her sardonic laugh saddened him. He kept her secure for her own good. Sometimes even friends needed to be disciplined, otherwise they would never learn from their wrongful ways.

"You have no friends, Peter. You are rotten and Neverland would be better off with you not in it. You are alone. Not even your parents wanted you!"

"Shut up!" he yelled. She was spitting out ugly words to cause him ache; he knew she didn't mean it. "Wendy has been in my room many times and she still does not know you are here. She will never know." Tinkerbell's little voice was not audible unless someone was in very close distance of where she was. This was why Peter often purposely kept Wendy away from the drawers.

"How are you so certain?" she asked. Even in her miniture size, he could see coldness in her piercing blues eyes.

"She has not said anything."

Tinkerbell laughed again. "I suspect she already knows. Wendy is wise. She isn't easily fooled by your lies."

"She will understand."

"Understand what, Peter? She knows what you are. She knows like I do. You care for no one."

"That—that is not true."

"It is. Remember Toodles?"

Images of the pudgey auburn haired boy with frightened dark eyes manifested in his mind. Blood had pooled out from his heart where Peter had pierced him with a stake.

Toodles dropped to the ground, desperately drawing air into his weakened lungs. And the life went out like a light that flickered before it was extinguished. Peter buried him in the forest, digging deep to cover the body well.

He had not wanted to hurt Toodles, but the boy kept coming back to the hut after he was instructed to leave. Even attempted to steal supplies, saying he couldn't survive by himself. Peter had caught him sneaking away with a pot, so he dragged the boy out to the forest to stab him.

He blinked the memory out of his mind and looked away. "I did not have a choice."

"You know you did. You could have spared him," Tinkerbell pointed out.

Peter breathed out through his nose, frustrated with her inability to comprehend his actions. After everything they had gone through, he had hoped she would be more sympathetic towards the decisions he made. Toodles had been provided countless chances and eventually they tapered out.

But Tinkerbell's comment planted a worrisome thiught in his mind. If Wendy found out on her own, she would be angry by the omission. He knew what he had to do to amend the situation; he needed to tell her the truth. Wendy, unlike Dorothy, was perceptive and inquisitive, making her much more likely to ask questions.

"I will tell her now," he muttered.

Tinkerbell gave him a smirk. "I wish you luck!"

He frowned at her, knowing the comment wasn't remotely sincere, then shut the drawer.

There was a brief hesitation where he dreaded Wendy's reaction. If he told her now, she would surely still be irritated for omitting it from her this long.

Perhaps not. She would understand, wouldn't she? If she knew, she would have escaped again. Peter didn't want that to happen. He had to give her time, to see everything he'd done to please. The books. The inprovement of the hut structure. The animals he killed for her. He grew up for her. He became an adult; a man. To make her happy.

He headed over to open the door and walked out to see both girls looking in his direction.

"I have something I must tell you," he said, his focus more on Wendy's fixated expression.

"What is it?" Dorothy asked.

"I was not honest when I said the fairies all perished. Tinkerbell is alive."