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Because even in dreams you try to escape, even when you know you can’t.
“I’m Peter Pan. But in this place, they call me King.” “This place?” I manage, still hanging upside down, still panicking. “What place is this?” He gives a dark chuckle. “Welcome to Neverland.”
Fucking island. Fucking nightmare.
This unexpected trip to this island from hell showed me just who I am. A slut. A slut for these cruel, strange, gorgeous guys, a slut for punishment and sex.
“I thought you came to offer breakfast.” I hold his gaze. “That, too. If you’re still interested…” He waves a hand negligently in the air and turns to go. “Come. I hope you like eggs. You’ve had sausage already.”
“Where is Peter’s favorite place to eat?” Colt says. I stare at him. “Where?” “Wendy’s, of course.” His face is deadpan and I just keep staring. Nobody laughs.
“Fears are the things you avoid,” he explains. “Once you’ve faced them, they are just problems.”
