The lost children (finished editing)

"Chapter 4; Scars"

Trigger warnings; gruesome mentions of bodily harm to children, accidents, torture, bad coping mechanisms, etc.

Translations (French to English):

la merde=shit.

énervé=pissed.

tricherie trou du cul=cheating asshole.

☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

To survive in Neverland, you gotta be fit and quick.

If you aren't, then you won't survive—it's that simple.

There are many dangers in Neverland that one has to be able to outrun—Pan, The Lost boys, the rabid animals, the mermaids, and more. But you can't go running around all willy-nilly because there are other dangers on the island in the form of various traps and poisonous plants straight out of hell that you have to look out for.

Tortuous and painful traps set up by the lost boys and the Indians (who wanted to keep the lost boys away from their camp as well as pirates)—traps that could kill you instantly, traps that could take hours or even days to kill you. Traps laced in posions from the various amounts of poisonous plants. Most of the traps weren't coated in poison because they also used them to catch and kill their food—the multiple rabid and wild animals that inhabited the island. But that didn't mean that the traps didn't hurt like hell if you managed to get caught in them—and it took forever to get out of them.

One had to learn how to dodge these things if they wanted to survive on the hellhole known as Neverland—and that's exactly what the kids (Known as Neverland's Rebels when all together) did.

They learned from pain and experience—each and every one of them—and let me tell you, there was a lot of pain and experience to go around over the years. Each one of the kids had gotten trapped in one of the traps and had gone toe to toe with the lost boys (and the mermaids and rabid animals) at some point—and each and everyone of them had the scars to prove it.

A lot of scars.

One would be forever horrified to learn just how many scars these young children had gotten during their time in Neverland. They had come in, unblemished, and now they lived there in terror—their skin a map of their journey and a symbol of their strength.

All of them refused to break under all the stress and terror—they were stronger than that. They were their parents' children and it showed in the way each of them held themselves. They were stubborn, brave, smart, creative, resourceful, crafty, and defiant—and Pan despised them for it. They made his job harder and refused to show their fear to him—which made messing with them a lot less fun.

He still did it of course—no one could defy him and get away with it. And seeing the flashes of terror in their eyes when his boys would cornered them always made up for it—it was satisfying to him.

Little brats needed to learn their place in his opinion—especially Jay, who betrayed him and his weak grandson who didn't know he was his grandson. Pan hated them all and the feeling was most certainly mutual.

They all had a road map of scars and trauma because of him, and it was all his fault that they were there—they had every right to hate him and nobody could tell them otherwise.

Speaking of scars, did I mention that all the kids had at least 3 and that they were horribly horrific?

Harriet had a scar on her side about 3 inches long from when a lost boy had shot her with an arrow not long after she arrived. She had, had to stitch herself up with no rum to numb the pain and the stitches hadn't been the best—sufficient enough to keep her alive, sure, but not neat at all. And you could tell just by looking at it that she hadn't stitched herself up properly. That had been before Sammy had come along and the wound had hurt for months afterward and she had nothing to relieve her pain and no one to lean on until he arrived.