by Snow Marchant

    This place. Its supposed to be beautiful, absolutely wonderful. But, its not. Its horrid. He is horrid. Absolutely vile. He likes hurting people, enjoys their pain, our pain. He comes off as nice, but he is a demon. He takes these kids, kids like me, and tells them that they are unloved, makes them absolutely sure of it. He makes them want to stay with him. By the time they realize that his promises of love and a better life are nothing more than intricately woven lies, it is too late. Once you are here, there is no escape. Nobody goes without his permission. The shadow is the only one who can leave. Children dream of this place, of him, but it is a nightmare. He is one of the first fairy tales you will learn of, but the books leave out one very, very important detail- Peter Pan is a monster.

    I know, it sounds ridiculous. But its true. Hes crazy. Theres no other way to put it. Peter Pan is a sociopath. He is completely and totally insane. And he loves it. Honestly? If he were to have one moment of simple sanity, he wouldnt be able to handle it. He would be lost without the voices in his head. Lost, just like them, his Lost Boys. His truest moment of insanity would be found within the hell of sanity. Theres no other way to explain it.

    He cares for no one but himself. He does whatever it takes to get what he wants, and he feels no remorse, no regret for what he has done. He looks just like any other teenage boy- brown hair, blue eyes, tall and lanky. But those eyes.. theyre so sinister. If you dont look closely, youll miss it. Or, if youre naive, youll mistake that look for pity. It isnt pity. That is the mark of a madman, the look of a killer.

    I no longer know exactly how long Ive been here, trapped. I stopped counting after 90 years. I finally realized how pointless it was, how much of a waste of energy. After all, time is frozen here. None of us grow any older. Ever. I am a 17 year old girl who was born in 1904. Anywhere else, anywhere without this much magic, I would be long dead. But not here. Not in this vile land where we are subjected to the worst punishment of all: not getting to say goodbye.

    We have all been forced to outlive our loved ones, to outlive the only people we had. Now, we truly are all alone. Now, we are unloved, because there is no one out there still alive to love us, to even know us. It is what he wanted all along, the ultimate torture.

No one knows were here. No one believes this place is real, that it even exists. How could they? Its not supposed to be real. None of the stories are supposed to be true.

It gives him a sick sense of power to know that we are entirely helpless. He is entirely in control, and he is far too aware of this. He thinks that weve all given up any hope of leaving.

He is wrong. I am stubborn. I always have been, and I always will be. Giving up is simply not something I am capable of.

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