"You may be able to run now, but you cannot run forever, darling," A voice echoed through the forest.
And this voice was Peter's.
I ran as fast as my legs could take me. Jumping and leaping over roots and fallen trees. His malicious chuckles were ringing in my ears, sounding closer and closer. The forest amidst me seemed to darken with every breath I took. My legs felt numb and seared with so much pain, that I had to stop.
Just for a minute, I assured to myself in my head.
The chuckling grew louder and the wind blew harshly. My hair was whipping wildly around my head and goosebumps were forming on my arms.
I took a few steps back only to bump into something.
Or into someone.
Slowly, I turn around to meet a pair of iniquitous green eyes. Peter grabs my shoulders with his slender fingers, his plump, pink lips pressing gently against my forehead.
"Winter," he whispers softly. "I did not intend of caging an angel. But I do not intend of letting the angel go."
He traces his finger from my chin to my lips. "You're mine now, darling."
***
I bolted awake, sitting up and breathing heavily. Sunshine poured through the threads of the tent, warming my body from the chilling morning air.
"Look who finally woke up," Peter's voice spoke softly. In the corner of the tent where the light could not reach, stood Peter. A taunting smirk had been plastered on his pale face. His forest green eyes twinkling with amusement. However, I could have mistaken the amusement for vile greed.
I pull back the blankets and swing my legs to the side of the bed. "I was exhausted," I remarked softly.
He steps out from the corner and walks to my side of the bed. His eyes were staring at me with a noxious green, pulling me into a trance. A trance that moved my gaze from his eyes, to his button nose, to his pink lips. But the trance left me there.
"Demons love angels because of their innocence," I divulged unknowingly. I glance back to his eyes. Eyes that scintillated with forlorn.
He studies me for a moment, watching my every move. Watching my chest rise and fall, my eyelashes open and close, my calloused fingers fidget disconsolately.
"Angels love demons because they wrongly believe that they have the potential to save demons from the darkness." Peter professed. He places his pointer finger and thumb beneath my chin. "The angels feel sorrowful for the demons. They think they are helping the demons, but really, they are pulling themselves into the darkness."
I stammer, my lips trembling, "and... are you, Peter... are you one of those despairing angels lost in the darkness?"
His expression suddenly fills with melancholy. His breathing slightly trembles, and he looks away for moment in hesitation and uncertainty of what to say.
Then, his sly smirk grows back and his eyes turn poisonous. "No, darling, I was born a demon. I don't feel sorrow." He takes a few steps back, changing the subject. "Come, Winter, you must be hungry."
I stand up and follow Peter to wherever he was taking me. He enters a large tent that was filled with laughter and chattering inside.
YOU ARE READING
Counting Scars - OUAT
Fanfiction[DISCLAIMER] guys I wrote this when I was 14 and I cringe every time I look at it. He looks at me, tears continuously falling from his eyes. But the tears seemed to be hot, and made scars in his cheeks as they trickled down. "Oh, Peter," I said so...
