A/n So this was a little story I wrote in eight grade when E-teens ~ Ava introduced Evil Peter Pan into my life. It's cliche; please don't kill me.
Disclaimer: The views of the characters on certain issues do not represent the author's opinion. And I obviously don't own Once upon a time or Peter Pan.
It was a pleasant autumn evening and I was sitting on the pavement outside my foster home reading 'Suffer the Little Children' by Stephen King. His sadistic writing would whisk me off to another life. Well... until...
"Katherine!" my foster father - Marcus yelled from the living room. I wondered what he wanted, I hadn't done anything upsetting today. At least nothing he would come to know of this soon.
"What!?" I yelled back clearly irritated.
"Don't ask questions Bitch, get in here!" he simply yelled back.
I got up with a groan and dragged myself inside, simultaneously trying to stuff my book into my over-sized jeans.
"What do you want Marcus?" I spat, as I slipped into the living room.
"Your school called again," he sneered,"They said you were fighting with another guy in the cafeteria."
"That wasn't me." I lied, I'm not sure why. He would beat me anyway. The lies came so easily, they slipped off my tongue as easily as normal words. I lied constantly; with or without reason.
"Watch your tone, girl." he snarled.
"Or what?" I leveled my gaze and raised my chin. This was going to go down badly, and somehow, I wanted it too. The fighting, the pain, the yelling, all of it had been a daily routine for the last three years. Every time I thought to myself 'This time it won't end the same; this time he dies.'
Marcus looked like he was about to explode. A classic male trait, any threat to their superiority and testosterone overrides their dwindling IQ points. I snarled and flipped him off, knowing fully well that it would be his undoing.
He barreled towards me like an animal, not that there was any need for that simile; he was an animal.
I bent my knees and angled my shoulders just in time to side-step. As he passed I slammed an elbow into his lower back, using his own momentum against him. His left foot caught the lamp cable and he smashed face first into the wall. Knowing that my below average physical strength would not permit me to kill him with my bare hands; I frantically looked for something sharp.
Too long.
Marcus was up again and coming for me with a little more clarity in his wild eyes.I ducked under as he swung for my head and tried to twist around in a an attempt to throw my body weight against him in a savage kick to his vulnerable abdomen. But he moved faster than I anticipated; delivering a harsh blow to my waist.
The world seemed to tilt sideways as I lost my center of balance and hit the floor. Marcus kicked behind my knees rendering them useless for a while. Defeated once again.
He closed his hand around my throat and pinned me against the wall, my legs dangled and I feebly tried to kick out at him as I struggled to breathe.
I coughed and spluttered as I tried to get oxygen, my lungs were burning and my legs stopped moving. I stopped writhing around. Black smudged closed in my vision. I was going to die, right then and there I was going to die.
"Fuck you." I croaked, wasting the last precious wisps of oxygen I had left. I slumped in his grip. He released my neck and I fell onto the floor again with a loud thump. I groaned and took several deep breathes fighting to keep conscious.
"Fuck you." I wheezed again.
He roared with rage, "You will learn to respect me!" He stomped to the corner of the room and swung the cellar door open. As he came back for me I struggled to my feet and tried to throw a poorly aimed punch at him. He reached out and grabbed my arms as I was trying to keep balance and dragged me in after him.
My knees scraped against the unpolished stairs as he walked down and continued to drag me, they felt like cheese being grated over a pizza.
Marcus released me. I tried to get up but my knees were in agony; they gave away and slammed painfully into the ground. I bit the back of my hand to avoid crying out. Marcus snatched a clump of my dark brown hair and pulled me to my feet. I fought the urge to scream, denying him the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting me.
He dragged me into a metal room in the furthest corner of the cellar, which was really cold, like some sort of a freezer and flung me to the floor.
"This will teach you a lesson" he sneered, kicking me in the ribs before slamming the door shut and leaving.
"Bastard!" I yelled after him, as he stomped up the stairs, slamming that door shut too.
It was cold. Really cold, maybe even sub zero temperatures, although I might be exaggerating slightly, just slightly. Like anyone else would if they were this bloody cold. I was so cold that I could see the wispy plumes of air swirl around, curling in front of my face.
I sat there there, rocking back and forth trying to keep warm, occasionally humming to distract myself from thinking about the time.
It felt like I'd been sitting there for hours, but then again it's hard to keep track of time when you're freezing in isolation. What if he forgot I was here?
Suddenly the door swung oped and a frantic looking Marcus barged in, "Get off your pathetic arse and and go to the attic now." snarled.
I didn't reply. I scampered up the stairs as fast as my wounded legs would carry carry me. Once in the attic, I blocked the door with a trunk. I grabbed my school bag and flung all my books out and began stuffing it with some of my more fitting clothes.
There was a police car outside; the neighbors mus have heard us screaming and called them. This seemed like a pretty good opportunity to make my move. I needed to escape and it was now seemed like a better time than later.
Swinging the window open I peered down; it wasn't that bad. A meter and a half jump to a sturdy branch.
Even though Marcus was a butt-head, he and Chloe were nuts about saving the environment. Hence the crazy amount of trees surrounding the house.
So I sat on the window sill and swung my feet onto the ledge, whispering a quick prayer, I jumped out.
I actually landed quite well, muttering a silent thank you to my psychotic gym teacher - Mr. Dustwhier.
Stretching my hands out on either side of my body to help me balance as I walked towards a fork near the trunk. Once I was on the ground I ran.
I ran like there was nothing holding me back, hell bent on never stopping, happier than an underachiever who got an A+. Nothing was going to make me stop.
I seemed to be running for miles; quite possible by the looks of it, for it seemed like I was on a highway. Maybe fatigue could make me stop. I slowed down and stopped by a milestone to rest. Note to self: Carry water when running away.
My heart was on fire, my lungs were fighting to get past my rib cage and I couldn't feel my legs. To add to that, my body was still in agony from the trashing I received earlier.
I tried to take deep breathes, hoping to relieve myself from the excessive adrenaline in my blood. Once I was calm enough I tried to think of a place to go.
Should I turn myself in as an orphan? Then it would be a foster home again.
Crash with a friend? Got none that would take me.
Find a Job? Which moron would heir a 15 year old!?
My heart began to race again. What was I going to do? I was lost.
At those words a melodic tune filled my ears. It seemed to be coming from a clarinet; no, a flute? Then everything just went blank.
A/n: Damn, this POV stuff is hard, there are so many 'I's everywhere. AnyWho I didn't bother editing the crappy eight grade writing so if you're disappointed, just skip to the third chapter. It's not laziness, just justice to the old me. which was technically a younger me... yeah.. ignore this.
If you got an Idea, compliment, constructive criticism or plain old criticism hit the review button and ramble on.