Hello, yes I'm not dead
Some things
1. I know I've been gone for awhile, but I'm not saying why until things blow over srry
2. I came back to see we've gotten 60K more since I last updated, which is aaaamaaaaazingggg!!!
3. This chapter is absolute trash but ya'll were begging and it took like 14 minutes and I made up stuff as I went along so I'm sorry
4. Usually all the comments are nice, but this really needs to be addressed. On the last chapter, there's a lot of rude comments. Idk why it happened all of a sudden, but there was a lot of "update right now, you don't know how long I've been waiting and it's really annoying that you don't update and you don't care about your readers." Excuse me? My readers mean the world to me. Sorry to call someone out like that but I'm not going to be told I don't care about my readers, because I love my readers dearly.
@ everyone who commented nice things, thank you very much and I'm glad to be back !!
5. I made a musical.ly hahha it's @ Mia salvano. And I made a vine in case you didn't know !! Also just Mia Salvano.
6. Let me know if you want me to start making YouTube videos to address you guys haha, I'm definitely thinking about it(:
yeah enjoy as best as u can :////
Song Recommendations:
Cola by Toro Y Moi
Crazy in Love by The Eden Project
Chapter Thirty Four
Day 75
Every day before, all my wars were violent quarrels between the heart and the mind, the main attraction, the reason why the lungs and the muscles and the flesh attended. The internal ravages were screaming until every vein trembled, like a train screeching across my blood vessel rails, like a lonely thunder crying out into the sky, begging a star to kiss it's sallow cheeks goodnight, until, one day, it all stopped.
The battlefields are now empty of men. The heart beats slowly in a jailed rib cage, while the brain slinks back to its spinal cord tether.
I am a prisoner in myself.
It was a thought that came to me sometimes, like the wind blew it in from the attics of my discarded thoughts. That I am locked up in my own body. That I am tortured beneath the walls of my skin. That I may travel the world and never go anywhere.
What a strange concept. To travel the world, and never go anywhere. Did I ever leap from my flesh and dance in newfound places? Did I discard my past skin and dwell in the lust for foreign worlds?
No.
Am I in Neverland at all, or am I in a prison that travels?
I thought these thoughts, dazed, eyeing a target in the training center. The wind tried to shake me from it. But I was held stead fast.
"Andria, a word?"
I jolted and turned my chin over my shoulder, lowering my bow to my waist.
Gale ran his dirty fingers through his black curls, rolling his hand over so the backside slid down his forehead, carrying a shiny streak from the side of his face.
"Yeah," I nodded slowly, "what's up?"
Gale dropped his eyes uneasily, looking off to the side, the whites swimming in a grey film, before he brought them down to me. He opened his mouth, a delicate sigh falling from his chapped lips.
"I've..." He began, his mouth hanging open slightly, sucking in a slow breath, "I've heard rumors."
My stomach throbbed with disgust. "Oh," I said sourly, throwing my bow to the grass. The arrow rest clammered against the shaft. "Is this about-"
"Chester," Gale finished, "yes."
I crossed my arms, my bottom lip trembling. "Oh," I repeated.
"Well," The sea salt whites of his eyes went a little blood shot. "I just wanted you to know that-"
"I didn't deserve what he did to me," I snapped. "I didn't ask for it. I didn't-"
"Hey, hey, relax," he cooed, clutching my forearms, still pressed firmly against me, "I don't believe a word from those boys' mouths. Promise."
I nodded, pursing my lips to keep a sob from rolling like a wave.
"Are you still mad at me?" I asked, quietly and carefully.
Gale's eyes welled with a gray fog. "No, no, of course not." He grabbed my face with his sooty, sweat stricken hands. His hot breath licked over my neck and ears as he spoke softly. "I was stupid and childish," he said, "I wasn't acting myself. I promise I'm over it."
"You promise me?" I confirmed.
He chuckled lightly, the curvature of his thumb caressing my jaw. "Yes, Andria, I do promise you."
"I've missed you," I said, clutching Gale's cloak. "It's been really hard to, you know," I worried my lip in between my teeth, "not be able to talk to anyone."
He pressed his cool lips to my temple, making me jump.
"I shouldn't have abandoned you when Neverland caved in on you," he said, his voice gentle and smooth, his humid breath sticking to the moisture along my hairline, "and I'll never do it again."
The comfort that folded around me like a star speckled sheet was suddenly torn, and slashed, and burned, and buried.
"Whore!"
Like a banshee cry, the revolting screech of a witch scratched the balmy air into dilapidated ribbons. Oliver's horrid voice cut between his cupped hands. I could hear the jeers of Chester and Oliver from the overcast shade of the oak tree.
Gale breathed in bitterly, sucking in a heated breath. His collarbones sunk beneath his cloak has he spun around, his boot digging into the soil and crunching the grass all around the heel.
"Grow the fuck up!" Gale cried.
Oliver's eyebrows jumped. "So the mouse can speak!"
"You need to leave her alone," Gale warned, "you need to stop causing trouble with all of us. You're a threat to everyone on this island."
Oliver hollered in laughter, a scuff chopping the silence. He sauntered a couple steps closer, authoritively, tilting his neck to the side so the shadows beneath the oak lapped their black lengths down his throat. "Or what, big boy?" He teased.
Gale's fists clenched as he jammed his hand beneath a fold his cloak. Ever so slowly, he retracted his arm. I squinted suddenly as the daylight glinted off of...a sword?
Oliver slid his tongue along his teeth, smirking viciously. "Saber," he demanded.
Chester unveiled a weapon from the oak tree and tossed it to his companion, who snatched it from the air, a distinct clang singing into the forest.
A silence settled, and the sky and the sea held it's blue breath, waiting patiently for one to disturb the universe.
"So you wanna duel?" Oliver called, his echo falling hollow in the wood.
Gale's wrist shook, the sword clattering against itself, like even the weapon was nervous and grinded together its bones. "Yes," he said.
"Well then," Oliver licked his lip, extending his arm with the saber and pressing his back foot into the earth. "Let's play!"
Gale gulped, lifting his right arm, the sword weighing his elbow into a bend. Oliver lunged, jutting his saber through the air. Gale threw his hip to the side, the blade skimming his cloak and tearing a hole into the burlap.
"Gale!" Mason's chirp voice cried in warning, jabbing his pudgy fingers into the air, pointing at Chester, who was creeping behind Gale.
Chester clasped his fist in one of his hands and geared back, jumping off the ground and slamming his elbow into the pocket of flesh between Gale's shoulder blade and his collarbone.
The sword flung from Gale's open hand, skittering along the grass and staining the metal with dirt. His body jerked before it went limp, collapsing dead weight into the clearing floor.
"Hey!" Tyrell's thick voice jeered, "you cannot double team!"
"Please!" Oliver hissed, swinging his saber behind him, "there's no rules!"
"Don't matta' what you think," Tyrell folded his arms, "you supposed to play a fair fight."
Oliver's glowering eyes met Chester's, who were solemn.
"Fine," Oliver snapped, then pointed his weapon directly at me, his black eyes aligned with the blade, "but I want to fight against her."
Chester snickered and turned over his shoulder. "Andria doesn't stand a chance against you, Oliver."
He grinned, his lips turning to the side. "I know."
I shook my head. "I don't want to fight."
"Fight him, Andria," Chester snarled.
"No," I said.
"Grab a sword, lost girl," Oliver taunted, tracing his saber between his fingers, his eyes burrowing into me and holding my lungs captive.
"No!" I shouted this time, "I don't want to fight!"
Chester folded his fingers along his blonde locks. "You sure put up a fight with me."
"Chester, you sick!" Tyrell called, "stop teasing her!"
Before a fight could erupt and tear the tension like wet paper, a familiar green figure stepped in front of me, his sculpted back pressing into the fabric of his shirt.
"Boys," his voice was cool.
"Pan." Oliver straightened his stance, his body unmoving. "We were just sparring."
"Sparring?" Pan asked, amused, then his eyes met Gale's body on the ground. "I assume he didn't do so well?"
"He had some trouble," Oliver chuckled, sliding his saber into a sheath against the oak.
"Is he..." Pan crouched next to the folded figure in the dirt, prodding his calm chest with two fingers, "alive?"
"Yes," Oliver confirmed, "just out cold."
Tyrell rolled his eyes, clipping his bow into the latch on his quiver.
"How about we all meet in the main clearing, huh?" Pan suggested, rising to his feet and dusting his hands off on his trousers. "I have some things I'd love to address."
The boys tossed their weapons against the oak and moved single file, minus the slacked boy crumpled near the oak. I began to follow the line from a distance, my feet trudging heavily along.
"Not so fast."
Pan's hand clamped my shoulder and guided me backward, my legs staggering along clumsily until he pressed my back against the oak.
His green eyes darkened into a sort of olive, whispering color as he looked at me.
"I've heard the rumors," he said coldly.
My throat clenched dry, my stomach fighting against itself as my insides begged to vomit.
"Speak to me," Pan said.
I shook my head lowly, unable to open my mouth in fear I would break down into sobs.
"Andria," Pan said more urgently, "why won't you talk?"
I closed my eyes as tears seeped out, rolling in a hot river down my sweating face.
I expected him to say something snarky, or tell me to chill out, or to stop being a whore, or even walk away.
"Angel, don't cry," Pan whispered, placing his finger on my cheek and running it up to my eye, wiping the tear onto his hand and letting it run coolly down his wrist.
"I didn't do anything with Chester," I whispered, "I swear."
Pan gulped. Hard. "What are you saying?" He asked.
I sighed. "That, that I..."
Pan bit his lip.
I crossed my arms against my chest. "He did it all, okay? I didn't want him too."
Pan didn't speak at first. I thought he'd ask more questions. I thought he'd do something outrageous, like send me to my hut, or even to the lagoon to bathe and wash off every bit of Chester I can.
He reached out, wrapping his hand softly around my throat. I gasped in shock, but he was gentle with me, and ran his calluses thumb down the slope of my salty neck.
Then, he shook his head.
"I don't want hands on you." He said finally.
"But yours are on me," I pointed out.
"I know," he said, moving his palm and placing it below my rib cage, "and I mean it territorially."
"How so?" I asked, wrapping my hands around his wrist and holding it in place, "I belong to me."
Pan smiled sadly. "Sure you do."
"Then why the face?" I asked.
Pan's face scrunched suddenly, as if he was battling a conflicting storm beneath him. He groaned to himself, his chest rejecting a breath.
He placed the opposite fingers on top of my lips, "I don't want foreign hands on my, my lost girl."
"Your lost girl?" I asked, the tips falling inside my mouth.
Pan pulled his hands off of me, and my flesh grew where it missed his warm touches.
"I belong to me, again." I said.
Pan wrapped two fingers around my bottom lip and pulled my face close so our noses pressed together. He breathed a heavy breath, and dared me to look away from him.
"You," he said, loud and demanding, "are mine."