Unhappily Never After (Neverland Archives II) (ON HOLD)

Chapter 21 | Creator

A/N: Sorry for the three week late update, I've been swamped with stuff. Hoping this will get me back on schedule every Monday lol. Enjoy Peter and his jerk-wad-ness xD

"What are you doing here?" I demand, glaring at the boy who has decided to curl up in my bed without permission. He doesn't appear to hear me. "I know you're awake, Peter!"

Actually, I don't know that. I'm guessing. But since my thoughts are so loud, I don't see how he could possibly still be asleep.

He doesn't react, and I contemplate hitting him with the pillow. I think about shoving him off the bed and onto the hard, cold floor. I think about strangling him with the sheet. I half wish I'd tried to buy a dagger, because then I could stab him with it.

He doesn't react to any of my rude, murderous thoughts, and with a muttered curse I climb out of bed, throw my jeans and t-shirt on, and stalk out of the room. I don't have to deal with him. Stupid jerk.

Why did he even come back? What does he want? Things were just starting to get better here, and he has to come and ruin everything.

My thoughts are huffy, but there's less anger in me than I'd like. I tell myself that I'm not glad to see him, but it tastes like a lie. It's so stupid.

Why would I be glad that he came back? He's a rude, heartless jerk who doesn't care about anyone but himself. He even said in as many words that he wishes I was dead!

That thought still stings more than I want it to. It settles in my gut like a rock, dragging my heart down so it feels too heavy for its place. I rub my chest as I go down the stairs. I half want to stomp, but I don't because it will wake the guests and Mila won't be happy.

In the kitchen, everything is eerily still, the movement from earlier halted with the absence of the Tin's faerie mistress. Out the back door, down the steps, into the tiny herb and vegetable garden she maintains. The night air is crisp and cool against my skin, stars shining on a world that barely breathes.

I stand by the well and wonder what on Earth I'm doing. I could have gone to another room, there are a couple vacant. I could have kicked Peter out--how, I don't know, but I'm sure I could've done something about it. Why did I run away--and why am I out here?

The night feels oppressive, like the silence in the city. Goosebumps prickle over my skin and I clutch my arms, wishing my t-shirt had long sleeves or I'd thought to grab my dress instead of this.

There must be an ice storm coming.

I should go back inside.

I'm just being stupid, out here in the cold like a child. Peter doesn't care. He probably only came back because he comes here often, and as for why he's in my bed, who knows? I don't care.

I won't let him mess up my life. I chose this path for myself, and I like it here in the City of Quiet. If I want to stay here, I will. Mila will get used to having me around.

Maybe I can even learn Quaiaan and become useful.

I turn back to the door, feeling silly for running out here like a four year old, but freeze in my tracks.

Two hollow children stand on the steps, looking at me.

"Hello Gwendy," they say, their empty voices in perfect unison--and it sounds as if more than just two kids are talking through their mouths. Their heads tilt to the left at the same moment, as if they're carbon copies of each other though they look different--one a black haired girl of five or six, the other a taller, older boy.

The night air shivers over my skin and crawls down my back as if it's trying to hide in my shirt. I retreat a few steps, but can't go much farther without falling into the well or crushing Mila's peas and rosemary.