Peter Pan OUAT Imagines

Imagine 35- Scars

Here's a request for @alldemfanfics
🌹🌹🌹

*Flashback*

"Veronica!" My father yelled. I quickly followed the sound of his voice downstairs and into the kitchen.

"Yes?" I ask, growing anxious of what he wanted this time.

"I've ran out of money," He said, waving his arms, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"H-how can I help?" I asked timidly. He was angry, but not completely drunk this time, surprisingly. He always came home absolutely wasted, and I always had to take care of him.

"I'm selling you. You'll be gone by tomorrow and out of my hair, useless brat." The bottle slipped out of his hand, causing me to jump. The alcoholic beverage spilled all over the floor. "Clean that." He ordered. I nodded and rushed to get a broom as my father went upstairs to sleep the night—and probably most of tomorrow—away.

That was the last memory I had of my father.

*Flashback over*

Three months later

"Why aren't your chores finished?" My owner asked, a deadly glare in his cold eyes.

"They are finished, sir." I said quietly, avoiding eye contact.

"What was that? Look at me when I talk to you, twat." He shouted, stepping closer to me. I winced at the loudness of his voice and took a small step back. I slowly raised my head to look him in the eye.

"They are finished, I've done everything you asked me to, sir." I said politely.

"Then why are those logs not moved, and why is the porch not swept off?"

"N-neither of those are my jobs, sir. I was s-supposed to feed the ch-chickens and..." I said shakily. My whole body was shaking with panic. There was nothing I could do to stop the tears that rolled down my cheeks.

"I don't care who's they are. I need them done!" He shouted and started towards me with a belt.

"No, no, no, no." I repeated, but it was useless. He whipped me again, adding to my collection of scars.

That night as I was lying awake on the ground, I heard windows opening outside. I saw several boys climbing out of their houses, dressed in pyjamas. As I paid closer attention I could hear a pipe playing. The music was beautiful. It seemed to call out to me, telling me to follow it.

I quietly crawled my way off of the property, making sure not to wake the man who used me as a slave. Once I had made it out of the gate I walked through the streets, following the peaceful sound. I hid behind a tree, watching the scene unfold in front of me.

It was coming from a person in a patched cloak, sitting on a log in front of a fire. The boys I saw from earlier were dancing in a circle around the flames, along with other boys dressed in the same styler cloak as the figure playing the pipe.

After a while, he removed the hood and spoke. "Alright everyone," he shouted. "Let's head to neverland!" Everyone began to cheer. He threw something down at the ground, but I couldn't see what it was in the darkness.

In front of the boy with the pipe, the dirt began to sink, falling away into a glowing hole in the ground. The piper looked back at the boys, before jumping into the hole. They looked at each other, uncertain of what to do, but jumped in anyway. Stupidly curious, I ran to the glowy thing and jumped in.

What we came through must have been a portal. We arrived at Neverland on a beach, and I immediately recognized it from stories. The boy with the pipe was Peter Pan. I was confused as to why I was here, I remembered that this island was for boys who felt unwanted or unloved.