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 ofhate. 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.
ChapterFour
“Iknew you were stupid. Just notthisstupid.”
My scream dies in my throat as I float up and out of the cave, then land on solid ground beside a thorny thicket.
I’m shaking, my entire being shot through with adrenaline and terror.
Tinker Bell appears before me in her golden flash, her eyes narrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I-I-I-” No rational thought comes to my mind. I can only see the sharp rocks beneath the waterfall, the way they seemed to grow larger as I fell.
“Shut up.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I saved your life. You owe me.” She reaches into some hidden pocket in her dress and holds out a vial. It’s the same one I took from Geo.
“What’s this for?”
“Go home.” She points through the trees. “To the mainland. Never come back.”
I stare at the vial. It’s my ticket out of here, a way back to the world where everything makes sense. No Peter. No Hook.
“Go!” She stamps her foot.
I look up at her. “Why? Why would you save me? I thought you wanted me dead.”
“I do.” She huffs. “But the island doesn’t. So, instead, I want you gone. Far away from here and far away from Peter. So get going!”
