Lost Boy, Stolen Memories

Chapter 14

Pan's POV

Before I get to Skull Rock, I have an idea of what's going on. Neverland's magic is running out. The passage of time here is becoming more normal, which means the situation is more dire than I could've imagined. If I can't find the heart of the truest believer soon, then everything I've worked for and sacrificed will fade into nothingness.

I pause just outside the cave. If I look at the hourglass, it will make this all too real. I will have an exact time limit to save Neverland. For just a moment, I want to just let the timer run out, enjoy my power while I can, and just fade out of existence.

No. What the hell am I thinking? Anger rushes through me for even thinking of such a possibility. I yank my dagger from my belt and plunge it into my forearm. Nothing like a little pain to keep the mind sharp. The stinging sensation motivates me to push forward. I enter the cave.

Now that I'm in, I heal the cut on my arm. I no longer need that pain because I know seeing the small amount of sand left in the hourglass will pain me enough.

I force myself to look in the direction of the timer, the sparkling sand inside illuminating the cave. Only inches of sand remain in the top half of the glass. The bottom is sickeningly full. There is not nearly enough time for me to resolve the problem.

I've been concerned about this since the sand filled each half of the hourglass halfway. That was ages ago, and I've spent all that time searching for the solution. I have no leads and all I've had in the past have been dead ends. I have no idea who contains the heart of the truest believer and I fear I never will.

Not only am I running out of time to find the heart, but it must be used on a night when the moon is full. If my estimations are correct, there are only two full moons left before Neverland's magic is completely depleted.

Before long I will have to tell someone, probably all of the Lost Boys. This search cannot be completed with only one person, no matter how powerful. But not tonight, tonight we celebrate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Erin's POV

Some of the lost boys decide to harm me physically, using me as if I were a punching bag. They cut me, hit me, slap me, kick me, bruise me, anything to bring me pain. It is mostly the younger boys who use violence, the ones who aren't as, um, longing.

The older boys, on the other hand, kiss me or touch me inappropriately. This affects me worse than the pain, it weakens me mentally. I inhale sharply every time this happens, quite against my will. They snicker at my reactions. I think of how horrified my parents would be if they had to witness this. It's better for them to think I'm dead.

Soon, I'm not even aware of what they do to me. I don't care anymore. For what seems like the millionth time tonight, I just want to give in and die. Maybe if I die, I'll find that part of Peter that died when his memories returned. This brings me back to the fact that's been bothering me all night: Peter's love for me couldn't have vanished. Even without his memories, he was still the same person. That love has to be buried somewhere.

I feel one of the lost boys' hot breath on my neck, and I have no doubt that he's going to start kissing me. Instead, he whispers to me, "I'm sorry. I truly am. You don't deserve this."

I thought I was out of tears hours ago, but this sends new ones trailing down my battered face.

"I'm impressed, Colt, you of all people made the girl cry. I always thought you were a bit of a softie," an all too familiar voice says.

I feel his hand on my back and I tense up involuntarily. His touch is cold on my bare back.

"I have to say, I'm slightly disappointed," Peter says condescendingly, "I told you to do your worst. This is the best you can come up with?"

"We were just warming up, sir," the boy who apologized to me says, Colt I guess, "we knew you must have plans for her."

"Oh, don't hold back on my account next time. But I do have and idea of what to do with her," Pan says, and the tone in his voice terrifies me.

Colt speaks up again, "I do hope it isn't killing her." He isn't afraid to meet Peter's eyes. Their gazes seem to carry on an entire conversation without them moving their mouths.

"No," Peter says, "since it's been a long time since any girls have been around here, I think we should use her as, ah, entertainment."

This scares me more than the idea of them killing me.