Free Never, Never by Brianna Shrum

rips you to bleeding pieces on the ground, and the last thing you see isn’t the stars, but a muted, empty sky that looks like day-old milk. You’ll care then.”
    James stared blankly at him, his bright white skin, too-large ears, pale green eyes full of real concern, and allowed Bibble to turn him in the other direction. He nodded a half-hearted thanks, and took several steps in the way that did not lead to that horror, but probably to another.
    â€œYou’ll be all right, James Hook. We all are.”
    James just kept on stepping.
    Thankfully, the darkness lifted almost immediately, and here it was, afternoon. He’d forgotten it was daytime, in the heat of everything.
    He stepped deeper and deeper into the woods, not looking at or feeling anything. He deliberately chose not to think anything, for the only thoughts, happy or sad, that popped into his brain evoked terrible pain. So, onward he walked into the depths of the forest, which was already shifting seasons again.
    Finally, the adrenaline of the encounter wore off, and there was pain everywhere. He could feel tiny bruises forming where Peter had thrown him to the earth and where his fingers had dug into his throat. There was an ache in his bones, but he doubted that came from the fall.
    Eventually, he stopped and eyed his surroundings. Trees to the right of him, to the left, all around. He sat heavily on a fallen stump and stared at nothing and tried very hard to think of nothing. But as the events of the day (days?) weighed on his mind and beat his spirit into exhaustion, he found that he did not have enough energyto keep the horrid thoughts at bay. Quite against his will, he gave in to them.
    He was never going home. That was the thing that hit him hardest. Never going to meet his baby brother or sister—he didn’t know which—never again going to harass Mother over her horrendous cooking, never going to greet his father at port and breathe in the salt smell of him, feel his strong arms around him. The image pounded the breath from his lungs, until he was left gasping and sweating and shaking like a madman.
    Then, secure in the knowledge that he was utterly alone, he dropped his head into his hands and cried. The boy cried in a way he was sure he hadn’t since he was a little child, all needing and disappointment and urgency and lack of any semblance of control. It was as though every bit of him was dying. But, part of it felt good, somehow, cathartic.
    A leaf crunched behind the wailing boy and he sat up, wiping the tears from his cheeks, looking worriedly for whomever, or whatever, had made the sound. It was a good distraction, anyway.
    â€œHello?”
    Nothing. Another crunch.
    His limbs began to tremble. “Hello?”
    More nothing.
    James flung his head back and forth, beginning to panic, realizing that he was by himself in the middle of an enchanted wood and who knew what sort of creature would love to eat his bones for supper?
    Another crunch. At this, he strongly considered leaving. As he was about to do so, the rogue noise-maker revealed herself. James let out a huge breath and his shoulders fell, relieved beyond words when he saw the little Indian girl walking shyly up to him.
    â€œHello,” James said in a small voice.
    â€œHello.”
    Up this close, James guessed that he’d been mistaken. The girl was really just a bit older than six. Seven, perhaps. She had round cheeks and a long, straight nose, and brown eyes so dark, they looked nearly black. A lovely thing, for being so small , he thought.
    â€œI heard you crying,” she said, and she crossed her little arms.
    â€œYou’re mistaken,” he said, sniffing and sitting up straight. Despite the gravity of the situation, James was quite embarrassed at being caught weeping, and by a little girl, no less.
    â€œI’m not. I know I heard someone crying, and I know it was you.”
    James stared at the little girl then patted the log