Second on the Right (43 page)

A lone figure sat in the chair, rocking back
and forth. The rooms were quiet, except for the slight creak of the
rocking chair or the crackling of the fire. The fire gave off some
warmth, yet the figure in the chair was shivering. The light ran
down the body of the woman, blue eyes glistening with tears that
welled up within. Her hair was unkempt and pulled back behind her,
her face covered in smudges of soot. Her emaciated frame was
covered by a loose dress.

The woman in the chair was, in fact, a
prisoner. The existence of the underground home and the prisoner
were unknown to all, even the lost boys. The only one who knew of
its existence was their leader, Peter Pan.

A small cough emanating from one of the cribs
causing the figure to rise and walk over to ensure the child was
all right. Seeing he was fast asleep, the figure turned back
towards the fire. She slowly sat down, lost in thought. Though it
had been a while since the boy had visited, there was no spark of
hope. She had a responsibility towards the children, all innocent
and unable to care for themselves.

Sighing deeply, she leaned her head against
the chair. She daydreamed of her husband. She wished she could see
him again, if only for a moment, but knew that would never happen.
He’d been killed by the boy. She saw the knife, heard him scream as
she fell into the ocean with her son.

The icy water had enveloped the two of them
and she had struggled to the surface, first pushing Robbie up so he
could catch his breath. The two were ripped from the water, pulled
to this strange island. From there, they were separated. She
assumed Robbie was killed, though she’d tried to find out.

Peter had locked her in an underground
dungeon of sorts. Eileen attempted to leave, but the one exit she
had found was too small for her to fit through, as she was
pregnant. Shortly after her arrival, and due to the trauma she had
endured, she experienced severe abdominal pain. By the following
morning, she had given birth to her daughter. Unfortunately, no
sound or movement emanated from the newborn.

Though in pain, Eileen attempted to
resuscitate the baby. After over twenty minutes of working on the
infant, Eileen sat back, hot tears streaming down her face. Her
baby was dead.

After the miscarriage and time of mourning,
Eileen had attempted to escape, but was far too weak. Following the
intense labor, the loss of blood, the death of her child and little
food, she was weak, unable to break through the locked door. Then,
the cycle began. First, Peter brought an infant, no more than six
months old, demanding she care for the child. As she attempted
another escape, with child in hand, Peter had stopped her, by
bringing yet another small child. Each time he came, he brought
another, then another, until the room was nearly full of infants
and toddlers, all vying for her attention, care, and food.

There were times when he would come without a
child. Those were the times that upset her the most, for he would
take each child, one by one, into the adjoining room, with the door
shut. At first she thought she was imagining it, but after each
time, the child appeared older, their little bodies limp. Though
the children seemed to age, he never did.

Eileen had resigned herself to living out the
remainder of her life in the dark and dirty prison. During moments
of peace and quiet, as the children slept, she found herself,
daydreaming of being free. She had spent many nights in tears over
the loss of her husband and children. Now, those tears had dried
and her heart hardened. She was distraught at the idea of being
trapped. Knowing there was no one in the world searching for her,
what would be the point in escaping?

“Eileen, dearie,” she heard a familiar voice
call out.

She saw Daria, the barista. Eileen knew she
was dreaming. At this point, anything would have been preferable to
reality.

“Eileen, I need you to focus,” Daria said in
a more serious tone. When Eileen turned, she gasped in surprise.
Daria was gone, replaced by a stunning woman, dressed in a black
dress. Her dirty blonde hair cascaded down her back with oceanic
plants and shells. Her scaly skin glittered with a blue-green
hue.

Eileen had no clue who she was.

The woman snapped her fingers. “Child, look
at me. You know me. I’m Daria.”

“But, but….no. Daria is the barista. The
ticket, and cruise. I don’t—” Eileen struggled, blinking a few
times and shaking her head.
Is this really a dream?

“It isn’t a dream,” Daria said to a wide-eyed
Eileen. “Yes, I am the same woman.” She ran her hand down the side
of Eileen’s face. “You’ll not be here long, child. You need to make
ready. You are needed to destroy the boy,” Daria said, encouraging
her to stand. “Come now. You have no idea how important you truly
are.”

Eileen shook her head, refusing to move. “I
have no fight left in me. I’ve lost
everything
,” she said
tearfully.

“Hmm, perhaps proper motivation is all you
need,” Daria mused. “Very well.”

As the image of the Daria faded to black,
Eileen heard her name called, “Eileen?"

When Eileen looked up, she fell in love.
Someone had been searching for her and had come to rescue her. With
a neatly trimmed, though graying, auburn beard, he worn a
large-brimmed hat and was ornately dressed. Eileen was so happy to
see him she ran straight into his arms.

"Oh, Robert!" she cried into his chest, his
arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. "It’s been horrible
here! James was killed. Robbie and I were taken by an evil boy. I
lost my baby. He killed Robbie and locked me in this awful place to
take care of infants and children, over and over. I wanted to
escape but I…I…"

"Shhh. I'm here." Holding her face in his
hands, he looked at her for a moment before kissing her tenderly.
Pulling away, he looked over her, a growing smile on his face.
"Time ta come home."

She returned the sentiment to her white
knight. Then her smile faded. "Who will take care of the
babies?"

She motioned towards the cribs lining the
walls of the room. Benedict followed her gaze to the cribs. He gave
her a puzzled looked, then glanced back.

"Eileen," he said, confused. "They’re
empty."

Eileen rushed to each crib. She ripped back
the blankets and sheets of each one. When she finished looking over
the entire room, she was out of breath.
H
ow long have
they been gone? I could have escaped.
She crumbled, sobbing.
Benedict caught her before she fell to the floor.

"Come home, Eileen," Benedict said softly,
wrapping his arm around her shoulder to escort her out.

While the two walked through the vegetation,
heavy with mist and dew, a whisper seemed to echo softly around
them. Eileen and Benedict took notice.
Love, a proper motivation
even if misplaced.
She was confused. Benedict glanced back,
seeming to recognize the voice, but seeing no one.

Benedict’s men stood by the boat, only a few
having followed him to the hideout. They eyed Eileen suspicion.
Their surprise was evident when they saw the look of happiness on
Benedict's face. Benedict helped steady Eileen as she stepped in
the boat. He followed after her and the men shoved off, rowing back
towards the ship. Eileen glanced at Benedict, who smiled
proudly.

"Welcome back ta tha
Mistral Thief
.”
The small boat rose to the deck. The crew was working smoothly,
holding the ship steady until the captain gave orders and a
heading.

Benedict walked alongside Eileen. She
realized something odd. It was as if little time had passed. She
didn’t feel out of place. A smile formed on her lips as she looked
around in amazement. Benedict wrapped his arm around her, holding
her close, and waved his hand towards his quarters.

Benedict allowed Eileen to enter the cabin
first. Eileen traced her fingers over the ornate carvings along the
walls and the wood table. Her thoughts were on her recent rescue
from Neverland. She tried her best to suppress a smile, but could
not. She was overjoyed at her new-found freedom.

Benedict gently closed the doors behind. His
heart felt as if it were about to burst. He’d never been happier to
see anyone in his life than he was when he saw her. He had taken
her, gladly, into his arms and onto his ship, despite old
traditions and superstitions.

He hesitated at his next move. His furrowed
brow made it obvious he had something on his mind. His attraction
for Eileen had never waned and, now that she was here, his desire
for her was becoming so great he was finding it difficult to resist
taking action. As he looked up, what was in his heart was evident
on his face. Their eyes locked. She breathed in sharply, her cheeks
blushing. He gave a ghostly smile, taking in a deep breath. He
realized that what he wanted most, she wanted as well.

Without a word, he strode across the room.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he pulled her close. The other
hand ran up to the base of her neck, leading her into a passionate
embrace. Memories of the night on the porch came flooding into his
mind. At last, with James out of the way, she was finally his.
Feeling her begin to move away, he grasped her tightly. Neither
said a word to the other. Both were swept away by passion.

Eileen’s eyes fluttered open. From across the
room, she saw a beam of sunlight. The room was warm and comforting.
She felt rested. Stretching, she turned over in her bed and
froze.

Benedict lay on his back next to her; a
gentle snore issued from his lips. Panic rose within. She couldn’t
understand why she was feeling that way. She was grateful to him
for rescuing her from an uncertain future. She was so lost and
alone. Back on board with him, she was finally safe. Yet, after
their night of passion, why did she feel so guilty?

James
.

Seeing Benedict, the spell of romance was.
She closed her eyes, swallowing hard, trying desperately to control
her anxiety.

Eileen jumped out of bed and dressed. Within
minutes, she was pacing about the room.
How did this happen? Why
did I let this happen?
she screamed in her mind.
It’s not
fair to him.

The deep creak of the floor startled her.
Eileen spun around to find Benedict standing only a few paces
behind her. Upon seeing him, she tried to move away. Benedict
anticipated, stopping her from going too far. A flash of concern
briefly crossed her face, but disappeared.

She met his eyes, only to avert hers quickly.
"Robert," she said, fumbling for the right words. "I just, it’s
James. Give me time, please."

He watched her, his blue eyes piercing,
listening to her words. Other than his deep breathing, he said
nothing. Benedict loomed over her. He didn’t move. She fought the
tears that had formed in her eyes. She placed her hands on his
chest, creating a partial barrier between them.

It was possible Eileen would never be in love
with him. Even in death, the thought of James came between them.
She heard a low growl resonating in Benedict’s throat as he pushed
away from her. From his cabinet, he took out a bottle of rum and a
glass. He remained silent, hastily pouring a drink and tossing the
liquid back. Glass in hand, he leaned against the table. Benedict
stood to his full height as he turned to face her. Eileen could
tell by his posture, he was furious.

"Robert," she called to him. "I'm so sorry. I
didn't mean—I—"

Gritting his teeth, he slammed his glass into
the wall of the cabin. Eileen cried out in fright, scrambling away
until her back was against the corner. She remained very still, the
only movement that of her rapid breathing.

With Eileen huddled in the corner, like a
frightened animal, Benedict’s expression changed. He’d never
reacted that way to her. The passage of time between them was
palpable, as if they were more strangers than friends.