Panic

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

            “No, Wendy, it is not done yet,” Peter said when I entered the room.

            I crossed my arms over my chest and sank on my hip.  “I was going to ask how you were doing,” I said.

            “No, you weren’t,” Peter said, standing up from the fire at the hearth and turning around.  “You were going to ask if the blade was finished.”

            “I would never ask about an inanimate object before you,” I defended myself.

            “The gold has nearly melted,” Peter said, continuing on as if my previous statement had not even been said.  “Hook’s nearly finished with the mould for the blade itself.”

            I sighed.  “Well that’s good news,” I said.

            “How are you sleeping?” Peter asked, rubbing my arms with his hands.

            I looked at the ground, not wanting my eyes to give away the real answer.  “Fine, thank you,” I asked.

            “Wendy,” Peter said, sounding tired and concerned.

            I looked up into his green eyes.  “Peter, I’m fine,” I said.  “It’s been two nights; nothing has happened.”

            “That’s not what Hook said,” Peter responded.  “He said he walked by your room last night and heard you crying.”

            “I can cry if I want to,” I said.  “And you can tell Hook that he can stop walking by my room at night.”

            “Wendy, you have to be honest,” Peter said, releasing me and taking a step back.  “We can’t help you if you don’t let us in.”

            “Don’t tell Peter,” Fonce said, grinning, his face demonic in the candlelight.  “Don’t you agree he’s got enough on his plate right now?”

            I shut my eyes hoping that he would be gone when I opened my eyes.  My eyelids fluttered open, but Fonce was still there.

            “I’m still here, love,” he said, mimicking Hook’s tone.  “I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish.  I’ve touched you, you can’t be free.”

            “Wendy?” Peter asked.

            I blinked, and looked at him.  “No, everything is fine,” I said.

            “So why were you crying?” Peter asked.

            I looked at him.  “It’s just been a stressful couple of days,” I said, hoping desperately that he would believe me.

            “I don’t believe you,” Peter said.

            Damn it.

            “Peter,” I said, taking his hands.  “Trust me, I’m fine!  You need to worry about your blade and saving the island.”

            “I need to be there for you too,” Peter said, rather quietly.

            I smiled, trying to be reassuring.  “It’s fine,” I said.  “You are here for me.  Focus on the task at hand, Peter, there is no reason for us to focus on something that isn’t even there.”