"Bloody hell," Peter muttered as he was attempting to cut a tomato. To my surprise, he was helping Tame and Hunter prepare a meal for the boys. He cuts another slice of the tomato only to have the contents inside squirt onto his face.
"Bloody hell!" Peter groans as he slams the knife on the table. I stand up from the chair I had been sitting on and grab the knife.
"Let me teach you."
He scoffs and shakes his head, taking back the knife. "I don't need help."
He cuts another slice and it splats all over the table. Peter clenches his teeth, taking a deep breath, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the knife.
I roll my eyes and place my hand on his. "You have to be gentle. Ever heard of it?" I mocked.
He growls, I did not have to even glance at him to know that he was glaring at me.
"Anyway, you let the knife do the cutting part, just move the knife back and forth," I instructed. I help him cut a slice of the tomato with him. The slice was cut perfectly where every content was inside. "See? Easy."
He nods his head and cuts another slice without me. When it was cut nicely, he smiled. However, he quickly swapped it with a scoff.
"I was just messing with you. Of course I know how to cut a tomato." He rolls his eyes violently.
I smirk, "you better stop rolling your eyes or else they'll roll out of their sockets."
He sticks his tongue out at me and continues his tomato cutting.
***
I knew deep down inside of me that I did not belong here. Ever since I woke up near the sweltering fire and saw Peter's playful green eyes, I have never felt right. It may have been the fact that I was surrounded by boys, and only boys. Or maybe the fact that I got here only a day ago. Or maybe it could have been that I was completely clueless on just about everything.
I do not recall my name still. I do not even remember my life before I woke up on Neverland. Did I have a family? Was I loved? Did Peter take me here? Did he force me to come? Or did I simply ask to?
I groaned as I rolled over to my side. It was beyond curfew, I knew that. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to close my eyes and drift off. But my head, my thoughts, my brain was only imaging the one and only Peter Pan.
That's what I hated most about Peter. Besides his taunting smirks, his iniquitous remarks, and vexed attitudes, it was also his face that makes me irated and perplexed.
Demons seem to come with pretty faces, my mind told me. But what of angels? What do they come with? Because I had forced myself to believe that Peter was not an immoral demon, but an angel trapped in the darkness. Peter still had a heart inside of him. He still had a candle in his soul, a soul clouded with black and attempting to swallow the light. Would it be possible to clear away the darkness? Could I help him? After all, he did refer me to an angel.
I turn my body to the other side, the cool mattress was soothing, yet it only made me even more awake. I sigh and continue my thinking, my dreaming.
Peter was very beauteous without a doubt. His pale skin, his forest green eyes. If I stared at those eyes, I could get lost in them like I would in any forest. His hair, how peculiar it was. It was not brown but not blonde. It was more of a light brown with streaks of blonde mixing with it as it swooshed to the side. His lips, pink and plump, yet almost looked forlorn, desolate, and cold.
I think back to his eyes. His eyes seemed to be a clue to who he really was. When he is in a rapturous mood, his eyes would light up and scintillate. When he is mournful, his eyes dull into a darker green. When he is goading and taunting, his eyes are playful and discrete. Then, when Peter is furious, his eyes almost look like green fire, and they darken into this vulnerable manner. And at those furious moments, I see why he calls himself a demon. Only because this happens too often in a day.
Another clue, is the confidential tent of Peter Pan. Blondie told me that no one has ever been in there. I did not think it was that big of a deal, then again, Peter himself was very peculiar. It only urged me more to just open the flap of his tent and have a peek of what's inside. What could Peter Pan possibly posses inside that tent? What is so special to him that it is so clandestine?
Peter might as well be a locked door. A door that I was determined to find a key to.
And with that promise, I was finally able to close my eyes.
***
I was reading a book, sitting in a cozy bed and snuggled up into warm blankets in a turquoise walled room. It was a muggy night, but also windy. I left the window wide open to feel the breeze blow calmly into my room.
Suddenly, the lamp on the nightstand went out, and everything was dark. Only the moonlight was casting shadows of the room.
I close the book, trembling and slowly getting out of bed. I felt cold, frigid in fact. Slowly I make my way to the window, only to freeze in place when I heard someone speak.
"Emerson, darling," the voice spoke. A voice with a thick accent.
I felt someone breathing on my neck. Goosebumps were all over my arms. I slowly turned around, my eyes wide.
"Peter, w-what are you d-doing here? I never said the words," I stammered.
He smiles, grabbing my hand. "I wanted to see you."
I shake my head and yank my hand from his grip. "Well I sure don't. get out."
He smirks and wraps his arms around me. ''But I'm bored," he pouts. "I need someone new to play with."
I break free and shake my head again. "Peter, I told you last time. I'm not a child anymore, I don't need to play those silly games, okay?"
His smirk fades away, his eyes glimmering with melancholy. "But... I'm not here just for nothing."
I sigh annoyedly, "then what do you want? What could you possibly want?"
"Th-the island and I..." His breath becomes heavy. "W-w-we-we're..."
Peter crumples to the floor, completely passed out. I rush to him checking his pulse and sighing in relief when I felt his heart beat.
I glance at a satchel hooked on to his belt. I grabbed it and opened the satchel, bringing it up to my nose and sniffing it. Turns out, it was memory eraser dust.
"Peter, I'm coming with you to Neverland. But just this once," I whisper. Then, I asserted the words. "I believe."
Quickly, I sprinkle the dust over Peter's head and then on mine. Hoping that way Peter would not remember the rude attitude I was giving him, and for me to forget everything about my life in this world.
My mind was slipping away into darkness. Before my eyes closed, Peter's shadow had flown into the window and snatched my hand.
And then my sight went black.
***
I woke up in a completely baffling mood. What had I just dreamed of?
I found out that my real name was Emerson, and that I had known Peter ever since I was a little girl. My brows furrow, there was something wrong with Peter. My eyes widen.
And I made him forget.
***
A/N: sorry for a boring chapter. Oh well. If you did like this though, please give it a vote!
Btw Clandestine means kept secret or done secretly.
Word count: 1,359