Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
The cave seems to go on forever, and I feel as if I’ve been wandering for hours.
Every so often, I hear Peter calling for me.
Each time, I freeze, my heart hammering as I peer around in the dim stillness.
The candle I found along the way is almost out, the flame barely giving enough light for me to see just ahead.
Even so, I press on. I can’t give up, even if it feels like I’ve been going around in circles, barely missing colliding with Peter at each turn of the stone wall.
There has to be a way out. I’m going to find it.
When I do, I have no plan, no way forward.
Even if I get up to the surface, where will I go?
A flash of deep blue eyes flits across my mind, but I shove that shit down with a vengeance.
I’m not running back to Hook. I realize Peter’s a liar, but when he spoke of my mother, I saw the look on Hook’s face.
I saw the guilt. No, I won’t be returning to pirates.
Besides, as far as I know, Hook may be dead.
Peter may have killed him. That thought sits like a brick in my gut.
I’m getting ahead of myself. First, out of this hole and away from Peter. Then, if I survive, I’ll think of something.
The floor slopes upward a bit, and I stumble, my toe catching on a jutting bit of rock.
It stings, but I add it to the list of maladies I’ve collected ever since I came to this hell of an island.
I’m always hurt here. And now, I’ve hurt someone else.
Maybe I set Slightly free, but it didn’t feel like I was saving him.
It felt like murder. Like death. Like his blood on my hands will never come off.
“Focus.” I grit my teeth and keep going, then sigh as the floor slopes downward yet again. A darker area to my left suggests an offshoot. When I get closer, I see it’s a narrow passage, one I’d have to turn sideways to get into.
“Moira!” Peter’s voice shocks me with how close it sounds.
I whirl and hold out my candle.
“You’ll be safe with me. I’m not mad about Slightly. I promise. Just come back. I’ll protect you.”
God, I was such a fool to ever believe him. I should’ve relied on myself, not some charming asshole who wanted to use me. My rage, an untamed beast that I’ve never truly become acquainted with, rises inside me like a snake from the sea.
“Moira, I’ll take care of you. You know me.” His voice is softer, a lover’s whisper.
It only goads me more as I stare into the crushing dark just beyond the reach of my sputtering candle.
“What did you wish for?” I yell, my throat aching with the force of my anger.
My voice bounces back to me a hundred-fold, and I swear I hear it echoed in other voices too, quiet whispers of creatures unseen.
“Moira, don’t say that word.”
“Tell me what you wished for!” I scream again, my throat shredding with the sheer force of it, the hate like blades pouring from my mouth.
“Moira.” The tenor of his voice changes. Deepens. Darkens. “You aren’t going to escape me. Not this time.”
“Fuck you!”
“You almost did.” He laughs, no more boyish charm in it. Only a sinister caw of a wily crow. “I was close, though I must admit, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it quite as much now that I know you’ve already been used by Hook.”
“I’ll never let you touch me,” I snarl at the shadows. “Never!”
“You will. You’ll beg me to. All I have to do is catch you, and I will. I can smell you, taste you on the air. I’m on your heels. You can feel my breath on your neck. I’m right here.”
I spin as his voice balloons around me. “Stay away!” I see nothing, only darkness.
“Right here, little darling girl.” He snickers. “And soon I’ll sink my teeth into you, and this time I won’t let go. No more playing nice. No more playing at all. I’m going to use you all up. And when I’m done, I might dump your corpse at Hook’s feet. That would be fun to watch.”
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. Hook’s alive. I shouldn’t be so relieved. Not when he took my mother from me, but I’ve discovered the human heart can beat to more than one tune, even though it harms it to do so.
“Come back now, Moira. You’re just wearing yourself out,” Peter taunts. “You don’t even believe in the island, remember? None of this is real.”
“Fuck you.” I say it silently this time. I won’t help him find me in this maze of stone and inky night.
I hold up the candle and look over my options.
Continue straight ahead as the tunnel slopes downward or try the left.
The side path is painfully narrow, and may lead to me getting stuck, but I can tell it moves in a more upward direction.
If it closes off, I’ll have to retrace my steps and hope that Peter hasn’t made it to this area yet. But it’s a chance I’m willing to take.
Moving sideways, I hold my right hand in front of me, shining the low light on the way ahead.
The stone brushes against my back as I move deeper, my right foot feeling for solid ground before I take another step, then another.
I have to duck in a few places, my knees hitting the opposite wall with painful little bursts.
The rock has no give, and I’m already beat up.
That makes for slow going. I maneuver farther, the tunnel opening a little before squeezing in tight again.
Sweat drips into my eyes, and I snake my left arm up to wipe it away. Right when I do, the candlelight jumps, flickers, and finally dies.
“No!” I scream on the inside.
It’s truly dark now. Completely unbreachable black all around.
I force myself to breathe, to stop panicking, to stop imagining Peter standing right behind me. If I get stuck in my own head now, I’ll be trapped here forever. I promised Slightly, and I mean to make good on it. This is not where I end. I won’t allow it.
My feet move, shuffling me along as I drop the candle bits and use both my hands to feel my way through the crevice.
“Moira!” Peter’s voice is still taunting me, demanding I give in.
I won’t. I’d rather die in this infernal tunnel than get caught in his web again. So I push onward, gaining more scrapes and bruises as I climb over stone and duck beneath it, contort my body to fit and stretch toward freedom like a weed toward the sun.
Water. I smell it before I feel it dripping along the sides of the cave.
I gather some with my palm and draw it to my mouth, swallowing little by little as I keep moving. When the cave widens more, I can turn my body and walk forward. I drag in a deep breath, the claustrophobia abating for a moment as I look up.
More water pours from somewhere overhead, and when I lean this way and that, I see an opening where the moon peeks through.
Moving carefully, I pick my way along the rock that slowly turns to clay and then into a dark pool.
The sounds of splashing grow louder as I move into the cool water.
When my feet no longer touch the bottom, I strike out and swim slowly, hoping that nothing lives in this underground lake, especially nothing with sharp teeth.
The moonlight is steadier now, shining through tree branches and vegetation overhead and piercing the cave in rays of silver.
I keep going toward the sounds of a waterfall.
When I swim around a large outcrop of rock, I find it.
It’s a tiered waterfall set into stone. The top of it must be at least thirty feet overhead. That’s where I have to go.
I kick harder, pushing toward it. Once I reach a small shore, I pull myself out and sit on the sticky clay, my lungs burning as I try to regain my strength.
My name eddies around me. Peter haunts my steps. I don’t know how, but he’s getting closer. He must’ve found another way to this chamber, because there’s no way he could’ve fit down the tunnel I took.
With a pained groan, I get to my knees and then my feet.
I can already tell the stones here are slick with water and lichen, but I have to try to get to the top of the waterfall.
It’s the only way out. Slogging through the mushy clay, I get back onto solid rock just at the edge of the water’s spray.
Already soaked, I step onto a higher rock, then climb onto another, and then another.
To keep going up, I have to maneuver more into the drenching water.
It pounds on my head and shoulders as I feel for another handhold.
My palm slips, and a bit of rock tumbles into the pool below. I redouble my efforts, reaching as far as I can until my fingers glance off a spot that seems promising.
I steel myself, then heave my body to the side, the water trying to knock me back. Fighting it, I get my hand between two stones, gripping as best I can despite the burning in my fingers. I pull myself up and press against the rock. It gives me a slight reprieve from the water that pours behind me.
Wiping my eyes on my sleeve, I peer deeper under the waterfall. There are more handholds here, the water wearing dips and divots into clay and rock over the years.
My legs burn, and my arms are shaking, but I climb higher, picking my way as carefully as I can. I slip when I reach for the next tier of stone, my body sliding along the smooth rock until I can grab on.
I hang on and press my torn toes into the clay that coats the crevices.
Everything hurts. Every last thing. If my anger could carry me to the top of this cave, I’d already be there.
Hell, I’d be halfway to the moon. But it can’t.
Only this body, the withered bit I have left after what Peter stole.
I can’t tell if it’s water or tears in my eyes, but it doesn’t matter.
I will rip myself apart trying to get out of here, like a bear stuck in a trap that chews off its own leg to escape.
I reach up again and pull, climbing slowly as the water pelts me and my aching skin is turned to ribbons on sharp handholds.
When I finally inch out and away from the cascade, I see roots above me.
The forest floor. I’m here. I reach, my fingertips only tickling the edges of the dark roots.
I find more footholds and struggle upward, trying to keep away from the rushing water.
The spray coats me, making everything just as slippery up here, but I keep pushing.
With a dangerous lunge, I grab a decent hold of a thick root.
My heartbeat is loud in my ears as I find my footing again and simply rest against the rock, my body on the verge of collapse.
I want to quit. I’ve never wanted to quit so badly before in my life—and I’m talking even in high school when my sadistic gym teacher made us run five miles on a hot day.
This is worse. This is pain to the point of confusion, to the point of hate.
All of it directed at one man, at one monster. Peter.
With that thought, I surge upward and grab onto another root, then dig my toes against the wall and shove myself upward.
I gasp and grab another handful of roots, then another, and then I scrape away moss. It slips through my hands, and I reach again, grabbing hold and pulling. The moon shines on me now, a glow in the forest as I heave myself out of the abyss.
I’m so close. I reach up again and grab another root. This is it. I’m out. All I have to do is pull the last of the way. I yank on the root to pull myself up and over.
It breaks in my hand, and I scream as I twist back, only one hand on a root, and that root already giving way.
If I fall now, I’m dead. It’s too far, and the pool is dotted with jagged rocks beneath me.
With a kick against the stone, I spin myself around and grab onto more roots, but they, too, pull free and fall.
My grip is failing, the strong root sliding out of my wet hand as I struggle to grab onto something, anything. I reach and pull, but all of the mossy top layer shreds as I try to pull on it, dirt coating my face and getting into my eyes.
I can’t make it. I slip farther, my hand already numb.
With one last gasp, I reach for a handhold. But once again, the roots crumble in my palm.
I’m done. I can’t make.
My hand slips, the root slicing through my skin, and then I fall, my scream weaving through the pounding waterfall as I rush to meet my death.