The Princess and The Piper

Chapter Thirteen

Not once had the thought of Pan acting gentle crossed my mind. Not once had I ever believed that the monster within could be capable of such idyllic charm. But, like in many fairy tales before me, the beauty finally fell for the beast. Only this time, he's ugly on the inside. And this most definitely is not a fairy tale.

His chapped lips were somehow soft against mine. Either way, I felt somewhat complete, like he was the one thing I didn't know I needed. I felt as if I had finally found that missing piece of the puzzle, and it fit perfectly. As if life wasn't worth living unless he was present by my side, supporting me through thick and thin, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, through prosperity and pain, until death do us part.

But somewhere, somehow, I wished I was able to pull away. I so badly wanted to flee from him over fear of his mischievous manipulation. Over fear that he would abandon me at my lowest point; leave me in ruins. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. It was in that moment that I sensed him changing. He was shedding of his skin. Slowly, but surely. I almost felt different. Special. Until he showed his true colors. Until he became purely animalistic.

I could feel the radiation of his body heat through the collapsing chasm between us. I was struggling to catch my breath, but he wouldn't allow a quick break. As time strew along, Pan's movements became increasingly impulsive, his hand viciously gripping my waist. His calloused palm slid north, just grazing the small of my back.

"What the hell?" He breathed lowly as he traced the scar that ran from my right shoulder down to my tailbone. A birthday gift.

I froze. My heart raced against the clock, beating against my sternum so hard that it would likely shatter into one million microscopic fragments.

"Don't." My whisper was barely audible as I grasped his arms in place, my body shaking with terror.

He quickly removed himself from my space bubble, producing a safe distance to comfort me. "I didn't... I shouldn’t-" He was at a loss for words, unable to explain his doings.

Memories of Father's abuse and mistreatment wriggled its way into my brain. The beatings. The pleading. The crying. The bloodshed. One by one, the tears began to form in the corners of my eyes. The words 'please' and 'don't' echoed in the deepest parts of my mind like a forgotten cave reintroducing itself to mankind.

I bolted upright in the bed, not allowing him to break down my walls, as I blinked away the drops of salty water that only seemed to build up into puddles.

"Look, if I did something then-"

"I thought lost boys never apologize," I spit out a melancholy laugh through the muffled sniffles and silent sobs in an attempt to cheer myself up. It didn't work.

"We don't," Pan quickly reacted, now situated vertically. "But if I did anything-- you know what, nevermind. Forget it." His soft golden brown locks returned to the pillow, his strong back facing me.

"I think I'm going to go for a walk," I sighed as I began to remove the thin sheet upon the formation of new tears.

"You can't," Pan exclaimed, wrapping his fingers around my upper arm. "Because it's dark and you won't be safe. The lost boys have come to like you. They will be upset if you're killed."

I felt my heart begin to rip at his words. Did he really not care if I was dead? I thought. It doesn't matter. I knew it was a lie. I was only close with Baelfire, who wasn't on the best terms with Pan at the moment. Plus, Parker seemed determined to have me slaughtered.

I whipped my head in his direction, my hair shielding the left part of my face in hopes that he wouldn't be able to see my tear-stained cheeks. But with my luck...

"What happened to your back, _____?" he stiffened, almost as if he truly wanted an answer.

I didn't reply. What would I say? The truth?

"I hate it," was all he said. I looked at him strangely, like he was growing a third head. "I hate how mysterious you are. I hate not knowing anything about you. I hate that I feel almost vulnerable around you. I hate all of it. But most of all, I hate you. I hate you for the lost feelings you've ignited, and there's no damn way in hell that I can ignore them now." He spoke with such power, yet his words seemed so full of detest and bitterness.

"You want to know what I've been hiding?" I practically screamed at him, tears now evidently seeping through my eyelashes. I grabbed the hems of my shirt and pulled it off over my head, using my hair and bra-- the only chattels that remained-- to cover my chest. "This is what I'm hiding." I sat in front of him, my back almost completely bare, as I revealed each and every one of the permanent memories that had been etched into my once clear, spotless skin. "Happy now?"

"Of course I'm not happy," he yelled back. "You've got thousands of scars blanketing your body!" His lips moved with sincerity and worry. Then his emotion transformed into pure hatred. "Who did this to you?"

"My own damned father," I responded truthfully.

Pan growled, clearly steaming with fury. "And your mother allowed this?" he scowled, raising his voice a little more.

"She never knew," I muttered underneath my breath, more to myself than to him.

I despised my mother for leaving me but accepted it for having a good cause.

"How the hell did your mother not know?" His accent resurfaced, striking my nervous system.

Should I tell him? Should I explain my lineage and confront the truth? I thought. Or should I stay quiet and continue to hide behind a false front?

I had already made my decision when I remained silent, not wishing to share all just yet. Too many questions sat aloof, unanswered.

"God dammit, _____," he piped out, his tone full of force. The boy was now pacing from end to end of the tent. His fingers rushing through his golden brown locks as he swiftly stepped across the stubby green blades of grass.

"Pan, calm down," I tried. "It's not as bad as it looks! I swear!"

"The man left perennial scars on you, _____! You can't just forgive him, simple as that! And your father, too? Inconceivable!"

"You don't think I already know that?" I reasoned, raising my voice a few octaves as well to match his pitch. "You don't think I am forced to remember every single time I look in the mirror? You don't think I can still feel the it against my skin? I can't forget, Pan! He made sure of that." My voice grew to nothing above a quiet whisper after the last sentence, realizing just how much he has screwed with my life.

"God help me, because if and when I see him, I'm going to kill him. Slit his throat where he stands. I'm sure of it. And that, _____, is a promise I plan to fulfill."

Flooding with anger, Pan stomped out of the hut, leaving nothing but the burning glare of the rising yellow sun through the east window in his place. Which was once a fuming human being is now only a small, centered spotlight.

My stomach churned. Whether if it was due to the fact that Pan now knows more about me, which isn't necessarily a bad thing-- not that it's good either--, or that I hadn't ate since yesterday morning.

I didn't know when, I didn't know how, but I knew something was starting right now.