Monster // Peter Pan (Robbie Kay) (OUAT)

Chapter Twelve

I'm well aware this chapter is short, long overdue, and crappy.

Let me fill you in on the last few weeks.

The day I sat down to work on this chapter, my mom was sent to the hospital. She was in there a week, and I had no time to write. Then, she came home, and it was harder. More chores, less sleep, less help, more stress.

Three days ago, my mom passed.

I had made it a mission to update. Today, I heard the news that a friend of mine, Austin, died in a train accident last night.

Two deaths in two days isn't fair. I'm beyond hurt and numb right now, so please excuse this chapter. i did my best under my stressed and saddened circumstances.

Chapter Thriteen is almost finished and should be up by Tuesday.

Thank you guys,

Mia

Chapter Twelve

Days In Neverland: 17

They say that fear triggers survival, that adrenaline-induced paranoia elicits this desperate desire to escape the situation that scares you. And though I should have been quaking in angst behind the ochre bamboo bars that detained me, I only felt stultified and resistant.

The cage didn't hang very far down Dream Shade Path, instead dangling by burly rope weaved through the lower branches of the trees. Their woody trunks and leafy foliage bordered the dream shade patch, the barred bottom of the cage hovering a mere six feet above the plants below.

Two nights ago, when Pan clamped a hand around my bicep and escorted me to the cage, I remember how high-strung and impatient he was, how he hastily picked me up from behind the knees and held me up to climb inside. And I remember how he scrunched his eyebrows in annoyance as he jammed the lock closed and slipped the key inside his pocket.

"Pan," I called, sitting up and clinging to the bars, "where's Kian? Does he still have a cage?"

He tensed up, his mouth growing taut as he shook his head, "no," he muttered.

"Where is he?" I asked.

Pan didn't break the stare. "He's back at camp," he said, "with the boys." Then he turned away, the heel of his boot stirring and crackling the soil like tires would.

"Wait a sec!" I said quickly, making him stop, "how is he? Is he okay?"

Pan scoffed and turned over his shoulder. "Peachy."

I groaned, tilting my neck back as I relaxed against the cage wall. I tried to slide my fingers into my pocket to retrieve Pan's switchblade, but with dirt-caked nails, and the khakis so little and tight, I had to squirm onto the floor to somehow fish it out.

"Thanks for the whore shorts, Pan," I grumbled, pressing my thumb against the button to free the blade. I sighed, sliding the tip unsteadily between my fingers and along the knuckles.

I couldn't even reckon how bored I was. With the only entertainment being the dream shade plants wavering in the soft wind and this peerless, one-of-a-kind switchblade I wasn't even supposed to have, I was dying for even the most trivial adventure. A bath even!

The knife nicked my skin as I grazed it over my thumb, making me jump a little, but I just sucked up the blood and continued the rolling motions through the grooves of my hand.

Ah, Neverland. How much more often will this disappointment cross my mind? When I first woke up, face sticking with sand on day one, did I ever imagine only soon I'd be locked in a cage? Dangling like a teardrop over vile vegetation, might I add?