Chapter 1: His New Obsession

Alright guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, let's get introductions out of the way.

The name's Rose...as in like, the flower. I'm a childless, twenty-something, workaholic bisexual, with crippling anxiety, and a splash of depression for good measure. As far as women from my time period go, I'd say I'm pretty average.

I'm working my way through community college, hold a part-time job at Bath and Body Works, and have a chaotic family who can sometimes be toxic, but my close-knit group of friends help keep my sanity intact. Surprise, surprise, I'm a victim of Generational Trauma. Apparently, that's a staple for recently-turned grown-ups from my generation. I think it has something to do with the Baby Boomers deciding to have kids when the truth is, not everyone should be parents. Aaand, they wanted someone to take care of them when they're older and noticeably greyer.

Anyhow, due to my many mental illnesses, I naturally have a lot of hyper fixations and special interests. A few of them include Musical Theatre, Disney Animation, and Crystals. So. Many. Crystals. But by far, one of the most...shall we say...EXTREME coping mechanisms I possess is maladaptive daydreaming. This all began with my introduction to my favorite film of all time, Peter Pan (1953).

I can't say what made me so drawn to this property in particular. It just sort of happened.

As a kid, the majority of my childhood games centered around Neverland, and I wanted nothing more than to be whisked off to the magical island by the boy-who-wouldn't-grow-up. I even had this emotional breakdown because I couldn't use my plastic fairy wings to fly around my room. I suppose my existence seemed so bleak back then, that I would've done ANYTHING to escape.

Hence, my daydreams begun. I used to be able to traverse to and from Neverland whenever I pleased. I'd go to bed, and boom...I was fighting pirates, soaring through the clouds with Peter Pan, laughing with the mermaids...I was the person I'd always wanted to be: In control of my circumstances, and the heroine of my own story.

Obviously, I grew out of this, but I never stopped thinking about Peter Pan, or of going to Neverland for real one day. But what I didn't know at the time, was I wasn't the only one longing for something more...

It all happened on a typical Friday night.

I remember going through the motions upon getting out of my weekly dance class.

I blasted some showtunes in my car, drove-thru the Starbucks across the street from the studio, arrived home to an apathetic family, and locked myself in my room. I took a quick shower, skipped dinner, and read a few chapters of a book before hitting the hay.

It was always a gamble whenever my head hit the pillows of my bed. Either I'd fall into a sleep plagued with nightmares about...that night. Or I'd get up not even five minutes later, and scroll through Tik Tok until I passed out. I didn't have a consistent circadian rhythm. Sometimes, I'd go to bed at 10 PM, other nights at midnight or even a couple hours past it. There was no in-between.

Tonight, the calming sounds of a typical Floridian thunderstorm lulled me into a dreamless slumber. The ambience made me dismiss the other noises outside. I figured the pounding on my window was from raindrops. The creaking of stairs became the creaking of branches on the trees. And I thought the male voice I heard mumbling in the hall was just my brother coming back from work.

Only, his dog always hung out with me whenever he wasn't home. And I couldn't detect her snoring...which meant-

I shot up in bed, and scanned my room for anything out of the ordinary. I waited for my eyes to adjust in the darkness, and saw everything in its proper place...Sighing, I rubbed my temples and laid back down. Then, I realized I'd forgotten to check under the loft bed. That was when a figure scrambled up the ladder, and clamped something warm against my mouth.

I let out a muffled screech. I thrashed blindly in the dark; trying to fight back my attacker. But he responded by pressing the cloth harder against my face. I managed to grab ahold of the scoundrel's shirt, and ripped a section of it off before my eyes rolled back, and I succumbed into oblivion...

Voices drew me out of unconsciousness. The first had a roguish growl to it, low, with a posh accent, "...bloody fools used too much chloroform, could have killed her. Who's responsible?"

"I believe it was Bill Jukes, sir,"

This one had a cockney accent...perhaps a bit of Irish mixed in?

"See to it he's thrown in the Boo Box until mid-afternoon,"

"Yes Captain,"

Captain? I wasn't curious enough to open my eyes. Not just because of the sunlight creeping through my lids, but because I was scared shitless. I still didn't have a clue where I was, or who had abducted me. My only real advantage right now was the element of surprise. So, I decided to just pay attention to the conversation, and see if I could put together the scenario by using context clues.

"And you weren't seen?"

"No sir,"

"Or followed?"

"Not in the slightest,"

"And you've collected her things?"

"Every bit of it. Including that monster of a bed of hers. What kind of a flipping world does she live in where THAT is considered comfortable?"

I bristled a little. I was very proud of my loft bed, thank you very much! Fuck diamonds. In my opinion, loft beds were a girl's best friend! Specifically for college students. So...I guess not for everyone.

"I haven't the faintest idea," the first voice admitted, "But that's beside the point...so long as she's comfortable, that's all that matters,"

Comfortable? I was the opposite of that, but I didn't dare voice it.

In fact, it just registered to me that I wasn't laying in my bed. The sheets reeked of cigarette smoke, lavender, and... was that cardamom? I took another hesitant sniff, and my nose wrinkled. Yeah, that's definitely cardamom. I was a connoisseur of scents, but that didn't mean I enjoyed all the scents my store provided.

Only two kinds of people like cardamom: Grandmas and middle-aged men named Jim. Therefore, these were not my sheets. They also felt way more expensive than mine, and the mattress far too plush. Overall, it was too elegant and bougee for my taste...

Then, it hit me. I've been captured by a mob boss named Jim.

"If I may ask, captain, what's so special about this one anyway?"

"Patience Smee..." a cold, gloved hand caressed my cheek, "I plan to make my intentions known soon enough,"

The pieces clicked into place.

I was in Neverland, and in the presence of Captain James Hook and Smee no doubt! I almost pissed my pants. I didn't know what to think or feel. Excited? A little. Terrified? More than a bit, that's for sure. Flattered? That was a strange emotion. But I felt it. It was present. My circumstances at home must have been dire, if being kidnapped and taken aboard a pirate ship was enough to elicit a positive feeling out of me. Must've been the Gen Z in me.

I got impatient and opened my eyes, looking upon the dark villain from my childhood stories for the first time. The man stepped back, and gave me all the wiggle room I needed to process my current situation.

He looked like he'd hopped straight out of the original novel's illustrations, only he somehow appeared older than I'd imagined. His brows looked like two fuzzy caterpillars that were curled slightly at the top; giving them a whimsical sort of vibe. A coiffed mustache adorned his upper lip, and I noticed that for all the time he spent on making his appearance sophisticated and perfect, there was a sense that something was off about it. Like everything was slightly crooked somehow. From his crooked teeth, to his crooked stare, to the way he tilted his crooked head at me.

I panted a little under his piercing black gaze.

"Shh, shh, no, none of that now, there's no need to be frightened," his voice became a low baritone. As if being quieter would make the situation less frightening, "I assure you, you are quite safe here,"

I brought my knees into my chest, trying to put even more distance between us. My voice quavered with my first words to the captain.

"That's...that's a weird thing to say to the girl you've just kidnapped,"

Hook laughed at me, but it wasn't booming or dramatic like I'd anticipated. More of a shy chuckle, really. The sound someone makes when they hear something endearing, but don't know what else to say. Such a foreign noise to come out of an evil pirate captain.

"You are quite right there, quite right indeed...I apologize sincerely for any distress my men might have cause you on the journey here. I hope you don't judge me too harshly for my rash actions," he said as he took my hand, "Allow me to introduce myself: Captain James Hook, at your service,"

He gave a chaste kiss to my knuckles; snapping me out of my daze. I yanked my hand back, "Wh-what? This is not-how are you...you shouldn't-how-how do you know me? What's going on, what do you even want with me?"

"Such an inquisitive little thing," he said in amusement, "I promise I will quell your curiosity as soon as I am able. But first thing's first, Smee?"

A short man with a grey beard and a blue bandana, suddenly popped up from behind a spacious buffet table. He had just taken a bite out of what looked like a turkey leg, and he swallowed his mouthful before speaking.

"Aye?"

"Escort our lovely guest into town, and take her to the Sleazy Siren," Hook ordered, his eyes never leaving mine, "They'll know how to make her look more presentable,"

"Abso-floggin-lutely," Smee beckoned me towards him, "Come along, poppet,"

But I refused to budge.

"No wait a second, what-"

"-It's all settled then!" I screamed as Hook scooped me out of bed and onto my feet. I tried digging my feet into the blood-red carpet, but he started shoving me towards the cabin door, "And afterwards, how do you feel about joining me for dinner this evening?"

"I don't even-"

"-splendid, I do look forward to it!"

Hook gave me one last pat before pushing me into Smee's iron grip.

"Take good care of her Smee, and tell the men that if they so much as lay a finger on her, they'll meet the business end of this!" he emphasized this by thrusting out his iron hook with a grand flourish.

The funny little man saluted. Hook waved at me before the door slammed shut in my flabbergasted face.

My eyes narrowed from the scorching sunlight as I was taken across the deck of The Jolly Rodger. Smee led me down the ramp that led into Pirate Town as it was dubbed from the flimsy wooden sign above the archway.

The sky shone with ethereal swirls of pinks, yellows, and oranges as three sunsets occurred at the same time. I found myself a little breathless at the sight, but not as breathless as I was when I first glanced upon the bustling town. Mismatched buildings from dentist offices, pubs, fish shops, and gentleman's clubs had been thrown together out of old shipwrecks, driftwood, and seashells. It all formed a half-hazard, yet highly impressive, charming, colorful boardwalk. I stared in awe at the mountain-sized crocodile clock tower that stood in the town square. The mechanism in his mouth didn't tick, nor tock. Only spun in a constant, spastic circle.

As we strolled, I noticed that pirates would slowly stop what they were doing, and stare at me. This started to make me a bit uncomfortable, since all I wore were some tiny shorts and an oversized Hamilton T-shirt. I quickened my pace a little, and remained glued to Smee's side.

"So..." I began awkwardly, "Hi, my name's R-"

"-Rose Sterling, yes I know," Smee cut in, "We all know actually,"

He sounded almost proud of this fact, and remained oblivious to my rising panic.

"Who's we?" I demanded.

"Meself, the original crew, the butcher, the carpenter, the dentist, the offsprings, the showgirls, blimey-everyone if I'm being honest!" Smee spread his arms out and gave a half-spin before walking backwards, "You've been all this town is talking about, poppet!"

"But why?" I asked, "I'm nothing special. What reason would your captain order for me to be taken here by force? Unless...does this have to do with one of his schemes to capture Peter Pan?"

At this, Smee laughed.

"Haven't heard that name in eons," he admitted, "No, no, the Pan's been dead for centuries now. Along with every known descendant of his clan last time we checked,"

My eyes bulged.

"Peter Pan is dead?"

Smee blew a raspberry, "As a doornail...tragic, isn't it? Rumor has it he lived a long and healthy life, and died in his sleep from old age in the Otherworld, the bastard. Unfortunately, he up and died without getting all his affairs in order. Mainly, checking to see if the captain was actually eaten by the crocodile or not...the second time it happened, that is,"

My mouth opened and closed a few times. I wanted to press further, but something told me I'd be left with more questions than answers. I made a mental note to myself that I should try to find a library when I got the chance.

Luckily, we fell into a comfortable silence after that.

We then came to an elegant little building with red-velvet curtains and stain-glass windows. A mismatched sign going down read: Pick a peek. 1 Gold P. Eyefull. 50p PEEK. 10p PEEK. I cocked a browin confusion. Pick a peek at what? I soon got my answer as obnoxious flirtatious giggles filled the air, and about five or six feathered showgirls exited the brothel.

Their faces were caked with porcelain-white powder, and their plump, reddened cheeks reminded me of pepperoni slices. The application of the eyeliner was monstrous. It looked as though it was splashed on in thick waves rather than thin strokes. I regularly used liquid liner in my makeup routine, so I experienced a physical, visceral kind of pain at seeing it being so openly abused this way. The only appealing thing about them were their elegant poofy dresses. They came in all kinds of hues ranging from hot pink, citrine, marigold, chartreuse, sea-green, and scarlet.

A rather robust woman in a black-and-gold striped number suddenly cried out, "Put your faces on girls! Here comes Smee! Annnd it looks like he's got a piece of fresh meat with him!"

"A new project!" another squealed, "Oh Drucilla's gonna love this, we haven't had a new one in eons!"

"Ello' ladies," Smee greeted as we approached.

"What's your pleasure this time my Jolly Sailor Bold?" A woman with a hilarious red wig and crimson dress asked as she started rubbing Smee's shoulders, "You're so tense. How about we take you upstairs and help you...unwind?"

I reverted my eyes as a blush crept onto my face.

I've mentioned I'm a raging bisexual, and with that came an onslaught of bi-panic. That didn't mean I was a virgin-white, goody-goody though. Despite my innocent, doe-like appearance and softspoken voice, I could cuss up a storm on the daily, and sex jokes came to me surprisingly easily. But I was far from experienced in this department. I talked a lot of talk, but action was a whole other ballpark in itself.

Smee seemed to notice my discomfort, and detangled himself from the woman's advances, "Maybe some other time Jezebel. Where's Drucilla? I need to speak to her,"

"She's inside attending to other needs," gold-dress said.

I flinched as the building suddenly shook with animalistic grunts, pants, and moans. The creaking wood wasn't enough to drown out the other noises I heard, and my blush deepened as a result.

"You might want to give her a few more minutes," gold-dress winked, "It sounds like they're almost done,"

"Does the Captain want to visit her again?" Jezebel asked, "She's been waiting for him to call on her for weeks now,"

"No, it's not that," Smee said before gesturing to me, "He wishes to dine with this new one this evening, and she needs to look...up to his taste, if you know what I mean,"

I shuddered as I imagined myself as one of these powdered, floofy-dressed prostitutes.

Is that how women were viewed in this Neverland? As pretty porcelain dolls whose only purpose were to pleasure scurvy-infested pirates? Did these women have a family waiting for them at their windows? Did they have lives that were stripped from them too soon because a pillaging pirate thought she would make a fine bedside companion?

Another frightening thought overtook me.

Was that why Hook brought me here? To become just another one of his playthings? It'd been mentioned he'd become tired of the one called Drucilla for weeks, so it wasn't too far-fetched to assume he'd want a 'New one'.

I felt on the verge of collapse.

"Aw look, the poor thing's shaking like a leaf," Jezebel suddenly cooed, "Don't worry dearie, we don't bite. We're nice, respectable young ladies we promise. Let's get you inside and draw you a nice bath,"

"Be back to collect her in an hour," a girl in a purple frock said to Smee, "We'll have her ready for the captain in no time at all,"

"I'll leave her in your well-groomed, delicate hands then, ladies," Smee waved to me as he strode off, "See you in two shakes, poppet!"

I almost wanted to call for him to come back. That I didn't feel safe with these strange women. But he was already disappearing inside a pub that rivaled Spongebob's 'Salty Splitoon', in terms of how ominous and foreboding the establishment looked on the outside.

The ladies shuffled me inside the equally ominous Sleazy Siren.

Despite the questionable cleanliness of the tub, the bath itself was lovely with the lavender, peppermint, and jasmine oils I was provided with. My nose drank them in; savoring every scent in its own unique flavor. Of course, being naked surrounded by middle-aged women I didn't know put me off, but I'd rather it be them instead of a group of men ogling at my tiny breasts and shrunken figure.

"For Heaven's sake, girl!" one of them commented, "When was the last time you had a decent meal in you? You're all skin and bones!"

Once I'd been bathed and dried off, the girls started the makeup process. I stopped them halfway through peppering my cheeks with white powder. I explained I didn't feel comfortable with covering my skin, but they replied that it was the point.

From dawn to dusk, the prostitutes of Pirate Town applied their makeup to make themselves as inhuman and doll-like as possible. They explained this was so the pirates they provided their services to, didn't become too attached in the likely event the ladies became preggers with more offspring to dump in the orphanage until they were old enough to become either pirates or spawn a new generation of showgirls.

A twisted circle of life in this equally twisted town.

I bit back the urge to ask if they'd ever heard of condoms.

Half an hour later, I sat in a lavish dressing room.

My teeth chattered as I huddled on a bare bones chaise lounge. Goosebumps lined my now naked body as the anxiety settled in. I wondered what the hell was taking this Drucilla so long. After what felt like two days, she entered the dressing room clad in a soiled bathrobe.

I could tell she'd once been beautiful underneath the sunken, fatigued eyes. Her once vibrant honey locks now hung in ragged curls, and had faded into a rather pathetic shade of piss-yellow. Not only that, but her hollow cheekbones were smothered in the ghostly-white powder and tacky clown blush. With lips Kylie Jenner would be envious of, and two bulbous...muffins poking from the confides of her robe, I decided I disliked her immediately.

"You're the new whore?" Drucilla huffed; looking me up-and-down in distaste, "I'll admit you're a cute little thing... The same way a starving pussycat is. Got a name, love?"

"Rose,"

"Simple, innit?" at the sour look that formed on my face, Drucilla pouted in mock-sympathy, "Oh don't be offended...I was only joking. I mean it kind of suits you. Simple. Plain. Like your looks. Don't worry, we'll soon fix that,"

The wench strutted over to the wardrobe in the corner, and started rummaging through its drawers. I uncurled myself from the sofa, and leaned forward with clasped hands.

"So, you're here to make me look...slightly less plain?"

"Something like that," Drucilla said, "I'm sure the others informed you our captain is very particular about the way women dress in his domain,"

"Believe me, I noticed," a sudden thought caused all breath to escape my lungs. Before I lost my nerve, I forced myself to ask, "H-he...he doesn't really want to...to...you know..."

When Drucilla cocked a brow, I emphasized my point by glancing down at my nude form. Understanding settled in, and after a suspenseful silence...she shook her head.

"Hooky may be villainous and beastly at times, but even he has his limits," her ugly face twisted into a scowl, "I can't believe you'd think him capable of such a thing. It's insulting it is. He is an absolute gentleman through and through, and I will not stand for the slander of his character,"

I blinked.

"He's a pirate!"

The prostitute released a lovestruck sigh, "A very handsome and charming pirate,"

"I am not debating this with you," I snorted, "You have no idea what you're even talking about,"

"And you are a mere child compared to me," Drucilla snapped back, eyes aflame in rage, "A naïve pretty little twit who just so happened to seduce him. And it's only a matter of time before James sees reason, leaves ya high and dry, and come crawling back to me,"

"Um...the fuck?!" I blurted out, "Look lady, I was brought here against my will, and have no intentions of 'seducing' him! If he has a big, fat crush on me, tough luck! As soon as you and everyone else's backs are turned, I'm getting the hell out of this shithole!"

"I'm sure you will, dearie," Drucilla said as she tossed garment after garment over her shoulder, "Word on the street is, he has his black heart set on courting you, and will stop at nothing to make you his...not like that. I assure you, your womanhood is very much safe with him. Take it from me, the man cannot love. Doesn't even know the definition of the word, and can't bring himself to utter it aloud. He's also as unpredictable as the Neverland weather, and has the temper of the devil himself. Let's see if you can even handle a single evening in his company,"

I said nothing. Just crossed my arms with a snarl. I'd dealt with my fair share of narcissists, and knew their tactics well. I'd said my peace, and I wouldn't humor her further. It's what she wanted, and she wasn't worth wasting any more energy and effort than I'd already given her. Drucilla hummed in what sounded like disappointment.

Music to my ears.

"What's your least favorite color?" she suddenly asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"So we can avoid putting you in it at all costs of course,"

I pursed my lips in thought.

"Purple...it looks awful with everything, and is the color of poison and wickedness,"

"Nice try," Drucilla commended, "But James told me personally, that your favorite color is lavender. A nice shade of purple. You wear it often, and I happen to know you look quite lovely in it,"

"Has the whole world been stalking me?!" I burst.

"I dunno," Drucilla then tossed me a ruffled bundle. She folded her arms, and leered over me with a triumphant smirk, "You tell me, pussycat,"

Orange...

The dress had to be orange.

Not even a pleasant sunset, or a hue that bordered on golden. It looked like the fucking Lorax threw up on it. It was tussled and torn, and my pitiful breasts couldn't even fill up the thing. We settled on a shit ton of bobby pins as well as some safety pins and rubber bands to keep everything secure. It was itchy and more than a little uncomfortable, but at least I didn't have to worry about either of the girls falling out in the middle of dinner. The hoopskirt felt like a steel cage had locked itself around my waist, and dragging it even a few inches across the floor made my chest heave and my underarms sweat.

Drucilla had yanked, tugged, scorched, and brushed my thick chocolate-brown locks for over an hour. It got to the point where I started getting flashbacks to when my own mother would make such a fuss about my hair, and a wave of homesickness washed over me. Yes, I hated it whenever I'd have to sit around and do nothing while she'd painstakingly style it into two adorable braids, but I still would've given anything to hear her beg "Stay still!", "We're almost done!" "Just one more, I promise!"...

I wished I could go back to my childhood. Back in my smalltown of Panama City. Back to the house I grew up in. The friends I'd known my entire life. A simple life. A life where I didn't have to worry about disappointing my parents, or whether I'd ever be good enough for anything the real world had to offer me. My only concerns were the mountains of homework, and memorizing my lines for the school musicals.

But of course, life happened.

And now my greatest concern was surviving a dinner with the evil pirate captain from my childhood games. A pirate captain who apparently had been watching me from afar for lord-knows-how-long, had the hots for me, and would stop at nothing to make me his...girlfriend? Wife? Pirate queen? Each option sounded worse than the last.

Still, I couldn't deny the shiver of excitement that coursed through me as I waited to be called into the Captain's Quarters. As much as my logical mind screamed at me that this was wrong and I needed immense therapy, my little Peter-Pan-Fangirl heart squealed with glee. Captain Hook had cared enough about me to watch my every move, kidnap me, and go through the hassle of bringing all my things aboard his ship just to make me feel more at home. Not to mention have a legit dinner date with me.

My Gen Z was showing again.

"You may enter,"

I swallowed, attempted to fix my monster of a skirt for the last time, then entered the massive suite. I hadn't gotten the chance to take a proper look at it the first time, since I was still disoriented from the chloroform.

I made sure to soak in every sight and minute detail: The glittering chandelier, the Eton College plaque balanced atop the mantle of the roaring fireplace, the wax candles, the golden harpsichord, a model of Neverland complete with a replica of The Jolly Rodger and actual saltwater surrounding it. Everything was fantastical, elegant, and made my wallet sob at the sheer bougee-ness and sophistication of it all.

The last shreds of doubt flew out of my head. I'd been teleported to another time. Another world. A world that had only existed in my imagination. A very much real and tangible world. A world where anything could happen.

A feast fit for a king met my dazzled eyes: roast duck, boiled potatoes, asparagus, etc. but what really caught my attention were the options on the opposite side. A bowl of candied popcorn, matcha ice cream, tacos, dumplings, pizza, a PACK OF MICKEY PREMIUM BARS STRAIGHT OUT OF THE DISNEY PARKS?! These were all of my favorite foods and snacks. And Hook had known about them all. The realization should have creeped me out, but instead a flutter of gratitude stirred within me.

No one had ever done this for me before and it was almost...sweet. I stamped out this train of thought before it could go off the rails again. So, what if he'd done his research? That didn't mean I would suddenly become head-over-heels in love with him!

Speaking of the man, he sat at the head of the table with his hand and hook folded primly before him. His expression solemn, serious, but otherwise inscrutable. He wore a loose white shirt matched with a simple yet elegant vest with gold buttons. Upon hearing my entrance, his eyes lit up as his gaze met mine. His wrinkled lips morphed into a rather unsettling smile, and his features became noticeably softer.

As if he were making an active effort to be...nice to me.

When the captain caught sight of my gown, he blinked and shook his head a few times before speaking, "Wha-what on Earth are you wearing?"

"I-I don't know..." I squeaked, "Drucilla picked it out,"

At this, Hook rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Of course she did," he drawled, "Idiots. This town is surrounded by them. You have no idea how exhausting it is being the only one with intelligence around here,"

I didn't know what else to say, so I settled for silence.

Hook then snuck a knowing, sly smile in my direction and leaned in as if he were telling a secret, "But I suppose it's a good thing you're here now, hm? I won't have to drown in this sea of ignorance all by myself anymore,"

This succeeded in getting me to crack a grin.

He thought me intelligent?

Before I could come up with a suitable response, he was up and by my side in less than a second. His speed astounded me so much I'd failed to notice his offered arm until he cleared his throat. I started back to attention, and gingerly slipped my arm into the crook of his elbow. Releasing a pleased hum, Hook started to escort me out of his cabin.

"Let's get you into something more...you,"

What happened next caused me to do my first double-take...

After a few comedic beats of snapping my head forwards, backwards, then forwards again, I comprehended what I was looking at. My bedroom...or at least, a version of it. A Never-landy alter if you will.

There were a couple changes (the walls were splintered wood and smelled of mildew) but it echoed my room back home. My dresser along with my cosmetics and Disney figurines were all placed how I liked them, my fluffy pink carpet adorned the floor, and my loft bed was even present and accounted for! My writing desk was well organized, and my bookshelf held all my favorite books plus some new additions I knew for a fact I hadn't purchased. All-in-all, a faithful adaptation.

Creepy...yet touching. I gave myself a mental kick.

"I-erm, hope everything is to your liking?" Hook asked with a hopeful gleam in his eye.

I turned to him with shell-shocked eyes and he reverted his gaze with a rather abashed look. I then bit my lip and gave a shy grin instead. He perked up; taking this as a good sign and grinned back. My heart melted a little, though I couldn't explain why. He then un-looped his arm from mine, and stepped back to let me immerse myself in my surroundings.

"Find something suitable, and join me when you're done," Hook commanded, "Take all the time you need. I am a patient man, and I'd rather have you comfortable above everything else,"

I nodded in thanks, and he gave a bow before departing.

Despite the supposed privacy, I still locked the door behind him. Then, I set my sights on the dresser in the corner. I rifled through a few options before singling out a soft lavender dress. It had simple ruffles, and brushed a little past my knees, so I didn't think it was too formal. It wasn't particularly eye-catching, but I didn't want it to be. I cackled as I ripped the ugly taffeta monstrosity from my person, and tossed it out the porthole. I then changed, styled my hair into my signature ponytail with a matching ribbon, then removed all the makeup the prostitutes had so generously applied. I did two cat wings, and smiled at my reflection.

There I was.

When I was ready, I exited the cabin and ascended the stairs to the upper deck. I giggled a little when I noticed the beams on the railing were miniature busts of Hook's face. If there was one thing the captain was known for, it was for his expensive tastes and air for showmanship. With a playful smirk, I raped my knuckles against the door in the rhythm of 'Shave and a Haircut'. I was met with a rumbling chuckle.

"Come in, my dear,"

I padded into the room with less trepidation than before.

The captain's eyes met mine, and another charming, abnormal smile adorned his lips upon seeing my new outfit, "My, my, my... what a vision you are,"

"Uh, thanks,"

"Please, sit," Hook gestured to the vacant chair beside him, "I'm sure Drucilla's tightening of that dreadful corset didn't improve your appetite,"

He was rewarded by a snort as I alighted the seat. Ever the gentleman, the pirate stood and pushed it in for me. I flushed beet-red as I smoothened out my skirt.

"Thanks...again, I mean. Well, take two I guess,"

Me being the dumbass that I was, used my hands to mimic the closing of a clapperboard. Hook raised a single fuzzy brow in response...my cheeks grew hotter as I scrambled for an explanation.

"Uh, it's-it's like that thing they use in movi-films when...you're in-between takes and..." When the captain's expression didn't change, and he leaned forward with an intrigued hum, I slumped in my chair, "Um, n-never mind...sorry,"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Hook insisted, "If anything, it is I who should be remised at not doing enough adequate research on your world before bringing you here,"

I eyed the pile of junk food sprawled out before us.

"I... wouldn't call it inadequate," I said.

I swore I heard him sigh in shuttering relief, "Well, I didn't work my men to the bone only for this meal to go to waste! Help yourself!"

He loaded his plate, and after a beat of hesitation I did the same. We ate in silence, which I didn't mind since I was too starving to want to talk. What I did take issue with, was the inhuman poise of my dining partner. His elbows never brushed against the table, his back was stiff as a flagpole, and he took fragile, delicate bites of his food. Almost like a coordinated dance. In stark contrast, I chowed down like the Cookie Monster.

I'm no animal, let me make that clear. I use the proper utensils, and chew with my mouth closed, but...it'd been ages since I'd last eaten. I tended to skip meals if I was in too much of a rush to get someplace. But Hook savored his meal, and had the pronounced grace of a monarch. Whereas I was immature and awkward by comparison. What was it about me he found so intriguing? Was he fascinated by my lack of manners or found my clumsiness endearing? What oh-so-special thing had I done to warrant this amount of attention from him?

I meant to voice these questions, but I soon became too preoccupied with copying his stance and gait. At one point, Hook even stopped to watch me, but I didn't notice. Instead, I kept trying (and failing) to scoop broth while keeping my posture statuesque and elbows glued at my sides.

"You don't have to do that, you know," his sudden voice caused me to drop my spoon into the bowl, "There's no need to try and impress me. I'm no duke, lord, or king...I'm but a humble pirate captain,"

I blinked in disbelief, then rolled my eyes.

"Who's only a legend of English literature, lives rent-free in little children's nightmares, and is the flipping mayor of his own town!" I retorted before mumbling under my breath, "Humble pirate captain my ass,"

I flinched as booming laughter erupted from said 'humble pirate captain'. I shrunk further within myself. I hadn't meant for him to hear that. I had a hunch he found swearing to be unbecoming and crass (especially for a woman). The last thing I'd expected was for that little jab to amuse him. Yet, it had. And I couldn't stop the pride that jittered through me at this revelation.

Hook wiped a tear from his eye with a white handkerchief, "I can't quite argue with that line of logic...you're so entertaining, dear thing,"

"Is that why you brought me here?" I asked with a tilt of my head, "Because I entertain you? Are you really that bored nowadays since Peter Pan di-"

I flinched when the iron hook suddenly slammed itself into the table.

I grew stiff with shock and shame. It hadn't occurred to me that the subject of Pan's death was still a sore one for the captain. And that he was grieving in his own twisted, fucked-up way; lamenting over the loss of his chance to kill the cocky lad himself. Never again would he hear the clash of his cutlass against Pan's dagger, never again concoct diabolical schemes to ensnare the boy, or hunt him and his disciples down to the ends of Neverland.

Without Pan, Hook's life seemed almost meaningless and incomplete... like Ken without Barbie, or the Joker without Batman. His role as the sleaziest sleaze in the seven seas was no more. What kind of story ends with the hero perishing from natural causes? Where was the suspense? The tension? The intrigue? The final stand between the forces of good and evil?

Buried six feet in the ground along with his freckled, red-headed nemesis.

"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered.

"You apologize so often," Hook remarked with what looked like a pitying gaze, "It's as if you're apologizing for simply being human,"

This statement caused my appetite (as well as my stomach) to drop just like my spoon. I wished I could sink into my chair, through the floorboards, into the sea, all the way to the island's core. The captain took my silence as permission to continue.

"That'll be the first thing we work on,"

I glanced up, only to find Captain Hook's eyes glued on mine; melting with overwhelming warmth and tenderness. I shifted a little. Wasn't he about to explode five seconds ago? My mind whirred with even more questions. It was a miracle I refrained from blurting them out all at once. I settled on the main one I wanted answered.

"Why are you so interested in me?" I forced myself to search his features for any sign of ulterior motive or deception, "You have an entire town chalk-full of worshippers, it's almost...cultish how much they adore you. Hell, you have a brothel of women throwing themselves at your feet on any given day. If you wanted a girl so badly, you could've kidnapped a mermaid or an Indian...so, I guess what I'm trying to say is, why did you choose me?"

Captain Hook didn't respond right away, mulling over my line of logic with nonsensical hums. Confliction crossed his eyes, but then he cleared his throat in resolution.

"As I'm sure you've no-doubt gathered, things have been rather slow around here since Pan died," he stood from his seat, and paced the room like a bored predator in a cage, "The men have grown restless. They're tired of hunting Lost Boys and Indians, and I cannot provide them with the chase-that, that singular goal they need to remain loyal. The majority grew impatient; choosing to sail to other lands, or return to the Otherworld. The few who stayed, share my torment with me and are dangerously close to mutiny. I find myself at a loss of what to do with the rest of my eternal existence now that the Pan is dead...I should have died myself, eons ago. Either by the boy's hand, my own, or that blasted crocodile..."

He trailed off as he stood transfixed by the window behind his desk. I remained stock-still and stared at his reflection in the glass. Sympathy clawed at my heartstrings as I caught the glazed look in his eyes. I recognized that look. It was the same look I donned when I detached myself from reality to escape into my daydreams. When the demons rose to the surface, and the overlapping, self-destructive thoughts drowned everything else out.

I considered offering words of comfort, but fear held me back. Obviously, the captain's mood was unpredictable, and I'd learned the hard way to give these kinds of people the space they needed to process their emotions. Besides, I hardly knew the guy, and this amount of open vulnerability from a man double my age made me deeply uncomfortable.

Hook sucked in a breath, spun around, and stormed towards me. I drew my knees in as my heart clattered in my throat. I didn't move a muscle as he crouched, and gripped my hands in his. His eyes moistened; shining like black buttons in the candlelight.

"I needed a new obsession and it became you..."

I gasped when he suddenly pressed his lips into my palms. It wasn't chaste and polite like the first time we met. This kiss was slow, intentional, intimate, and all kinds of creepy. I snatched my hands away with a shout. Hurt, Hook sprung backwards like a bullet. I panted as my eyes flicked back-and-forth before settling on the ground.

"Wh-why?" I asked, "You still haven't answered my question...why, me?"

"I'm sorry my dear, I haven't the faintest idea why," Hook admitted, "One moment, I was tracking down and killing every last known descendant of Peter Pan within my sight...then, when they were all gone, I stumbled upon a young woman singing on a dark stage,"

Stunned, I said nothing.

"It was a sight so foreign and-and unfathomable to my old eyes, that I stood there utterly transfixed," Hook said, "There were elements that appeared familiar yet not... a box with blinking lights, aristocrats dining at tables, and a man playing the piano in a corner,"

I shut my eyes as though the act alone would block out his next words.

"But the most infatuating sight of all, was the girl...how animated, gorgeous, and free her voice was. You were singing an angelic little song about, rabbits I believe? And you wore a blue dress with a curved, lace collar, and a white bow. I shall never forget how enchanting you looked in that gown,"

The memories flooded back in full-force. Rehearsing for The Alice Showcase. Getting my braces removed. Sophomore year of high school. Horror pooled into my gut at the disgusting realization. Captain James Hook. The fictional villain from my favorite childhood story, had been keeping tabs on me for five years. Since I was technically still a minor.

That meant he'd watched me as my family traversed the treacherous world of Hurricane Michelle. Us moving downstate. Me navigating life during the Covid-19 Pandemic. My father...the visits to the hospital. Everything. Some of the lowest, most traumatizing moments of my life. Times where I thought I was alone and no one could hear me screaming, sobbing...cutting.

My stomach gave a sudden lurch as my vision grew fuzzier than usual. Sounds came to me like a broken phonograph, and the world seemed to tilt as my hands shook. Concerned, Hook's lips formed the words: "Rose? Oh dear, Rose? Are you quite alright?" He reached towards me; seemingly to wipe away the tears pricking my bulging insect-like eyes. I snapped back to attention, and slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

Once again, Captain Hook careened backwards. This time, he put his arms up in a sign of surrender as he re-alighted his chair. I buried my face in my hands with a tremoring breath. A weighty silence suffocated the air...

"Before you ask, yes," Hook resumed in a rumbling whisper, "Yes, I did see everything that transpired between you and your family during the aftermath...I grew rather attached to you, you see...ever since that first night you...you..." he trailed off, then shook his head, "It was as though you were a character in a book I was reading. I cheered when you triumphed, and wept when you failed. You were fascinating, and quite endearing. You with your charming, mischievous, awkward, yet sweet naïve nature. Your passion for the arts and your musical prowess. You have a voice that could rival the sirens, my beauty...a soul like yours deserves to be preserved and cherished at all costs. It's something more precious than even the rarest jewel. But I didn't dare interfere...until your safety was at risk. Since that night, I vowed I'd never let any sort of harm come to you as long as I live. And, here we are. I took rather...brash actions, and removed you from that stifling world. One full of shattered dreams and disappointing parents. You don't have to thank me-"

"-I wasn't going to,"

Even I was taken aback by my bluntness. But I pressed on; letting the abnormal feeling of outrage consume me, "Why should I? What? You thought I would actually be grateful to you for taking me against my will?! For taking me away from everything I've ever known, are you insane?!"

Hook grimaced at my outburst, but like the professional manipulator he was, twisted into the façade of an innocent, heroic bystander in a heartbeat. A polite, unfittingly spritely smile took hold of his tightened features, as my anger reached a steady boil.

"I'd have thought you would be more enthused about this. Isn't this what you've always wanted?" his voice took on a more dramatic, sing-song cadence as he made bold, dramatic gestures and poses, "Spirited away to a far-off realm by a dashing, roguish, (as well as devilishly handsome) pirate? To have an adventure like the characters in your stories? Don't you understand? You're free! After years and years of endless mistreatment, abuse, and emotional anguish you have been rescued! And you may not realize it, but you've in turn rescued me by granting me purpose again. This arrangement benefits both of us!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! I never wished to-to be kidnapped into having these adventures!" I spat, "No one—no sane person anyway—fantasizes about being kidnapped! You didn't even think to ask me if this was what I wanted! You never gave me a choice! You took away my freedom-my power, my chance to save myself! You took away everything, you selfish, brutish son of a bit-"

-CRASH!

I barely managed to duck as a brass candelabra zipped over my head, and clattered against the wall. Eyes wide and heart palpitating, I peeked over my shoulder and my jaw dropped. A small fire now blazed onto the once beautiful rug, and it was spreading.

Thinking quickly, I doused it with a goblet of wine.

I then turned back to the captain as the smoke sizzled to the rafters.

His irises had shifted into a chilling shade of blood-red... He breathed in staggered, uneven puffs, and his remaining hand squeezed in a fist at his side. Frightened tears stung my eyes, and a pained moaned snuck past my lips. That seemed to snap him back to his senses, and with a single blink, his eyes returned to their usual, pitch-black hue. But the damage had already been done. Realization shifted into gradual horror, then settled to genuine remorse in those darkened orbs.

By now, I wept openly.

Captain Hook intended to keep me as his pet; seemingly forever. Spoil and pamper me like a prized pony, like my father once had in order to deter me from growing up. He'd removed my ability to even try making my circumstances better. And the worst part was, he hadn't recognized the severity of his actions. I'd had to explain it to him. Doing so had triggered the beast within, and it shook me to my core.

"Darling, I... I didn't mean to-"

But I was already sprinting out of the cabin. I nearly toppled down the stairs; tripping over myself to get as far away from that monstrous man as possible. When I got to my room, I threw myself atop the mattress, and sobbed my little eyes out.

Here I was, trapped, afraid, and alone in a strange town filled with strange people, and a bipolar pirate captain obsessed with me.

And I'd thought I'd had problems before...