The Lost Boy (Sequel to The Lost Realm)

Chapter Eighteen

Peter's POV
1 hour and 30 minutes earlier

I hear the footsteps of treachery make their way towards my prison, on the way to deliver my morning dose of what would technically be considered "food". Yet the hunger and fatigue don't bother me half as much as the pain I feel inside.

The door slides open, and light pierces in. Outside my prison is the place where my captive stays. I haven't quite figured out what it is exactly, but I know I am decently high up, and that a city buzzes below me. I've been able to look at it through the cracks in the boards of my windows. They're the only way I keep track of the world. Yet, I cannot make out clear enough details to deduce exactly where I am, or exactly where my captive resides.

He appears in the doorway, grimacing down on me. I'd thought he'd be different in this world, but somehow he's not. Somehow he's managed to keep his magic. He plops the tray next to me, the metal clanging and the "oatmeal" partially spilling out.

"We should have some visitors today," his voice is cold and mischievous, even more so than usual.

"Can't wait," I mumble sarcastically, reaching for my food.

Suddenly I feel my throat close and my body becomes pinned to the wall. I gasp for air, but it's no use.

He looms above me, his hand raised and his eyes piercing into mine.

"I thought I told you not to use attitude with me, my son," the intensity in his eyes grows, just as it has done since I was a child. Then, I feel the pressure fall from my neck, and I fall to the ground gasping for air.

Chuckles escape him, "that was fun."

All of a sudden knocking arises from somewhere beyond the doorway. His lips curl into an evil smile. "Our guests have arrived." He quickly turns from me, and rushes out the door, slamming it behind him.

My stomach is in knots, these "guests" could be anyone, maybe Arabella.

My stomach grows tighter at the thought of her here. She doesn't deserve to be in this magical confinement, in a dark room with no powers. She doesn't deserve to be in the clutches of a mad man. Yet, the selfish part of me craves her presence. It's been years since we've seen each other. Perhaps she's moved on, perhaps she's gone on to be happier. Three years is plenty of time to mourn the disappearance of someone.
However, I've been trapped in a dark room and I manage to see her face clear as day. I suppose some things in life never leave your eyes, or your mind for that matter.

I shut my eyes and rest my head against the wall. I wish I were dead. I wish it with all my heart. Because if it were so, she would have no reason to come here. She would never have the chance of being in his clutches.

A blood curling scream punctures the atmosphere. Then, silence.

Arabella's POV
The Present

I move faster than I ever have, changing into clothes and brushing my teeth. I tear out the door and head for the stairs-there's no time for elevators.

My legs carry me out the door of the hotel and onto the clustered city streets. I weave through the people quickly, earning me strings of profanities and annoyed glares.
Finally, I arrive at The Plaza Hotel.

I dart into the lobby, where nicely dressed business people give me opposing glances- it's not everyday a disheveled teenager runs through their doors.
Thankfully there isn't a line at the front desk, so I head for it.

"How may I help you miss?" The lady at the front desk asks looking at me. She seems to be a couple years older than me, with vivid red hair and bright green eyes. My state doesn't seem to alarm her like everyone else, quite the contrary actually, her eyes hold an essence of understanding.

"Did a girl that looks like me but with darker hair happen to come by today?"

She nods her head, "She went upstairs. Would you like to know which room?" She doesn't question me, another thing that distinguishes her from her surroundings.

"Yes," I answer quickly. My stomach churns, something feels off.

"Room 636," she says.

"Thank you!" I reply before heading for the elevator, something inside me says I shouldn't waste my energy on six flights of stairs.

I press the button on the wall and the door to the elevator opens. Out falls a cluster of posh looking people with faces permanently stained with distaste. My eyes avert theirs and I dash into the elevator, quickly closing the door before anyone else can get on-times like these require no manners.

I slam the number 6 button and the elevator begins to creep up the shaft.

After what feels like eternity, a bell dings and the doors open. I step out and look around me.

To my right and to my left are corridors with blood red carpets and tan walls accentuated with gold features. In a sense the place is lavish, but in another it's toxic.

I read the sign hanging in front of me and find the right direction. Conveniently, it is only the third door to my right. I head for it.

My eyes stare up at the dark wooden door, my body bent down as to avoid the peep hole. I press my ear to the door-nothing. A sigh escapes me.

Slowly, I rise and face the door with my hand raised. Knock! Knock! I tap the door with my fist-no answer. Knock! Knock! I try again-still no answer. My hand reaches for the doorknob. Gently I begin to turn it, and-to my dismay- it spins and the door begins to open. I stop, take a breath, and open the door fully, revealing what's behind it.

I look into the room and my body freezes.

In front of me my sisters sit back-to-back with their hands tied, and behind them-standing, facing me and giving an amused expression-is none other than Rumpelstiltskin.

"So we meet again, Dearie."

// Hi guys!! I'm so so sorry for not updating, things have honestly been crazy lately. I hope you're still enjoying the story and I promise I will try my best to update more :) Also OUAT is finally back on and I couldn't be happier.