The soft furs of Peter's bed felt like heaven under my fingertips, and I longed to sink into them and sleep forever. My eyelids began to droop as the warmth of Peter's tent caressed me, and I could feel myself begin to slip off the edge between the waking world and the sleeping one, but as my chin dropped against my chest, I jerked awake, my heart feeling as though it was going to burst out of my chest.
I looked over at Peter, sure that he was going to catch me dozing again and punish me like he had in the days since my failed attempt at hide-and-seek, but his eyes were still trained on the parchment map in front of him, his brows drawn together in concentration.
It had been three days since I last slept, and even longer since I'd eaten anything. Every time my stomach growled, it was hard not to double over with stomach cramps. If I could have fallen asleep, it would have been bearable, but then Peter would bring down a harsh slap on my back or down on my thigh and I'd be wide awake again for a fleeting moment.
He must have felt my gaze because he looked up at me then. I didn't look away quickly enough, and soon Peter was standing and making his way over to me, a smirk on his face.
Peter plopped down beside me and seemed to study me, his eyes dancing across my tired features. It was hard to lift my chin to meet his gaze, and as I did so, his face came and went out of focus. He was blurred around the edges like something out of a dream, and as he spoke to me, his voice sounded far away.
"How's my little lost girl?" he asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
My tongue was heavy and it was hard to move my lips. "Fine," I managed. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of me being anything else. I didn't have the energy to argue the nickname; that one word took more energy out of me than I cared to admit.
His eyes hardened, but his smile didn't falter as his fingers brushed against my bandaged thigh. "You sure about that, Sweetheart? Because you look pretty terrible to me."
My fingers curled into the furs of the bed as his hand settled just over the spot where my badges covered Benj's cut. The rest of my body was healing nicely,the deep purples of my bruises fading to yellow around the edges and the open skin of my feet and my back and wherever else John's staff had broken skin was scabbed over and hadn't bled in days, but the cut along my thigh would take longer to heal. It was Peter's favorite spot to slap or dig his fingers into, and sometimes, just as I was sure it was starting to really heal, Peter would find a reason to reopen it.
"Tired," I slurred as I fought to keep my eyes open.
Peter's eyes softened as I said this, and before I knew what he was doing, he was pushing me down onto the soft furs, his fingers running through my hair as he stared down at me.
"Sleep," is all I heard before I slipped into blackness.
###
I woke to the sharp, splitting pain of stomach cramps and a wave of nausea that made the tent spin above me. I pressed a fist to my middle as I rolled to my side and tried to take deep breaths, but my insides longed to feel full, and the thick air of the jungle wasn't cutting it.
I needed food. I would beg if that's what it took.
Light poured in the tent through the front flap, which had been pulled back and secured with rope. The brightness caused me to squint, a sharp pain pounding in my temples as I stood on uneasy legs.
How long had I been asleep? A few minutes? A few hours? An entire day? It was impossible to tell. As I stumbled out of the tent, I craned my head to look up at the sky to try and determine if the sun had moved, but I was overcome with another wave of nausea and I felt my legs buckle as I fell.
A pair of arms wrapped around me, catching me before I hit the jungle floor. "Easy there, Sweetheart," Peter's voice filled my ears as he helped me sit. His face eclipsed the sun as I looked up at him, his lips pressed together and his brows knitted in concern. "You alright?"
I shook my head as another stomach cramp washed over me. I doubled over, a whimper passing through my dry, cracked lips as I tried to focus on breathing. "Hungry." The word came out breathy and desperate as I ground my teeth together painfully to keep from crying. My heart was pounding too hard, too fast and I was beginning to wonder if I was to die this way: hungry and tired and miserable. The thoughts did nothing to help my racing heart, and I soon found myself gasping for air.
"Deep breaths, Sweetheart," Peter encouraged me. "Take deep breaths." His thumbs brushed across my cheekbones in a rhythm that helped me focus on my breathing and steadying my hammering heart, and the more under control my breathing became, the more he praised me. "That's it," he'd whisper, pressing a kiss to my feverish forehead. "You're just fine, Sweetheart. Just fine." Then, he pressed his forehead against mine and told me that he was going to take good care of me.
I'm not sure how long we stayed that way— Peter's forehead resting against mine, his hands covering mine as my stomach cramps subsided and my heartbeat returned to normal— but it was long enough for me to think that Peter's gentle behavior couldn't last. It just couldn't. Because that's not how Peter was.
But even so, I couldn't help but be relieved that he was being gentle now, when I was sure that I would break at any moment.
"Wait here," Peter told me as he got to his feet and disappeared into the tent where the Lost Boys stored food and water. I did as he said, unable to do much else, and soon Peter emerged from the tent with a wooden bowl half-full of berries.
Instinctively, I reached for the bowl, but Peter only shook his head as he pulled it into himself.
"You've got to eat slow," he said as he sank down beside me, careful not to spill a single berry onto the ground. "If you eat too fast, you'll be sick. Here—" he picked up a berry and held it up to me, "— I'll feed you."
I stared at him apprehensively, but Peter only gave me a reassuring smile. Slowly, I leaned in, and he pressed the berry past my lips and set it gently on my tongue. The berry was sweet as it popped between my teeth, causing my mouth to water excessively, and I couldn't help but want more. My eyes fluttered shut as I tried to savor the flavor, tried to memorize the way it tasted as it exploded on my tongue and coated the insides of my cheeks. I made an appreciative noise that sounded like a moan. Peter chuckled, and I flushed crimson.
Peter watched silently, feeding me berry after berry with a soft smile and kind eyes. Little by little, my stomach cramps, along with my hunger, seemed to disappear. At least for the time being.
After consuming what I could only assume was a couple of handfuls of berries, Peter set the bowl aside and stood again, claiming that he was going to fetch me some water. "You've hardly had any since you arrived," he said as he wiped his hands on the front of his trousers. I didn't dare tell him that he was the reason why I hadn't had any water.
As Peter turned away, my eyes fell on the bowl of berries. There was only half a handful left. My stomach growled, still hungry for more. I stole a glance at Peter, but he had already disappeared. I have time, I thought as I reached out for another handful of the delicious berries. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to sneak; Peter was sure to feed me more when he returned.
I yelped when Peter's fingers curled around my wrist.
"Greedy little sneak, aren't you?" he asked, acid dripping off his tongue. My eyes darted up to look at him, and I was met with hard eyes. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and I knew from the sinking feeling in my gut that Peter's good mood had vanished. All because I couldn't wait for him to return.
I didn't say anything, just let my hand fall into my lap as I ducked my head. But Peter wasn't about to let me off easy. He knelt down next to me and pinched my chin between his fingers, making sure I met his eyes. "If you want to eat again anytime soon, Sweetheart," he threatened, "I suggest you learn how to take what I give you with thanks."
For half a breath, I thought about defying him, thought about pulling my chin from his grip, but the memory of the stomach pains were too fresh. If I could help it, I would never experience them again. This was a part of Peter's game that I'd gladly let him win if it meant I didn't go hungry again.
"Thank you, Peter." I tried to sound sincere in hopes that Peter wouldn't change his mind. Judging by the triumphant smirk that crossed his face, it had worked.
"My pleasure, Sweetheart," he said smugly before popping the rest of the berries into his mouth. Then, Peter got to his feet. "I'm going to see what's taking the boys so long," he stated as he stared down at me. "You're to stay here. If you leave…"
He didn't have to finish his sentence. I knew what would happen if I left. I swallowed the knot that rose in my throat, and I swore that I could taste salt water.
Peter sank down in front of me, balancing on the balls of his feet. "Are you going to be good for me, Holly? Or do I have to remind you what happens when you don't follow the rules?"
"No, Peter," I said, defeated.
"Good," he said with a nod. Then, before I could react, he leaned in and pressed his lips against mine, each hand cupping my face as his red curls tickled my face. It was over before I could think of what was happening, the warmth of his soft lips pulling away with him, the smell of rain that always seemed to cling to him filling my nose and making my chest tighten in a way that made me feel sick to my stomach. "Be back soon."
I said nothing as he disappeared into the jungle; I was too busy feeling disgusted with myself, at the fluttering in my chest as I thought about his lips on mine.
"He's confusing, isn't he?"
My eyes snapped to where the raven-haired girl stood at the edge of camp, in the same spot as the day I had followed her to the beach.
The day Peter held me underwater.
The day Peter sliced open my feet with Benj's knife.
And now… what? My stomach was a fluttering mess from a kiss?
My cheeks flushed with shame at the thought of the raven-haired girl witnessing Peter and I's kiss. "I don't think that's the word I'd use," I muttered as I pulled my knees to my chest.
The raven-haired girl took a tentative step into the camp, her eyes scanning the surrounding trees. She seemed to be keeping an eye out for Peter and the Lost Boys even as she came to sit beside me, pulling her knees to her chest just like me.
"Peter's always had terrible mood swings. Thomas was always much more level headed." She said it so casually, but it didn't stop the sharp pain that stabbed my chest. The pain quickly dissolved into anger, and I found myself trying to swallow hysterical laughter.
"I think Thomas—" it was still so hard to say his name, "— has changed a bit since the last time you saw him. He isn't very level headed anymore."
Her gaze burned into me, watching, studying, but I didn't dare look to meet her eyes. If I saw the pity that was sure to be shining in her eyes, my anger would dissolve and I would be left in tears. Unfortunately, the tears were coming anyway, filling my eyes and spilling onto my cheeks before I could turn and hide them. I was so fragile these days.
"You're angry," she stated.
I barked a laugh. "You think?"
Silence.
"He'll come for you," she reassured me softly.
If she was trying to comfort me, she wasn't doing me any favors. I surged to my feet with a speed I didn't realize I possessed in my weakened state. "Why would he?" I spat as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. "He's the one who let me go in the first place!"
She didn't flinch away from my anger. Instead, she stared up at me with soft brown eyes that were so full of warmth that I wondered how Peter and his Lost Boys hadn't destroyed her. "He'll come for you," she repeated, soft yet confident.
"How do you know?" I asked, my voice breaking. She seemed so sure, and I wanted so badly to believe her.
"Because he came for me."
An eerie feeling of recognition washed over me as I stared down at her even though I didn't know her name.
As she stared up at me, her eyes sparkled with a sadness that betrayed the smile on her lips. "Peter made sure he was too late to save me, but it didn't stop him from trying. Even when it was hopeless, he still tried to save me." She paused and swallowed hard, the only hint that she was struggling with her words. "Because he loved me. And he loves you, Holly," she continued even as the eerie feeling of recognition finally made sense. "That's how I know he'll come for you."
I had never met the girl sitting in front of me before I was brought to this god-forsaken place. I had never seen her face or heard her voice before coming here, and yet I knew her. I had heard her name that night in Fairedge. Hook made sure to say it loud and clear.
"Tiger Lily."