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Maggie had been hidden away inside this box for what seemed like eons and eons, but it must have been closer to seven months since her stomach was stretched and swollen as far as it could possibly get.
The darkness covered her with a cool blanket for most of the hours that ticked away inside her skull.
A door slowly creaked open from outside her prison walls, causing Maggie’s heart to still, or as much stilling as a heart could do.
Maggie lifted her hands and placed them against her stomach, protecting what was inside from being taken by her.
The dreaded sounds of familiar footsteps, and the rattling of her food tray, reverberated around her as Mother approached. Maggie’s stomach growled in betrayal. The steps drifted closer and closer, being absorbed by the space in this coffin—her tomb.
Clanging radiated as Mother set the food tray somewhere near Maggie, and several seconds of bolts being released echoed in her ears. Click, click, click—creakkkkk. The dark door opened above Maggie. A candescent light filtered throughout the room, and her eyes tried to adjust. Maggie blinked several times before her gaze focused on golden hair pulled into a high bun.
Maggie knew she wouldn’t be able to escape—she’d tried—multiple times. Mother had easily put a stop to that.
Body trembling, Maggie brought herself to a sitting position as the jangling from her chained ankles vibrated against the metal cuffs encircling her skin, rubbed raw after so many months. Her wrists were just as sore from the handcuffs binding them together.
“How are you, baby?” Mother whispered softly as though she was talking to an infant instead of a fully grown woman.
“Mother, please, I can’t handle this anymore. Why are you doing this to me? What are you going to do to the baby?” Maggie peered down at her stomach, trying to solve the endless riddle. Greasy blonde locks of hair swung forward, touching her lips. She let out a huff of air and shoved them away. The red dress she wore was now covered in grime and holes, a putrid smell hitting her nose.
Inside the box, Maggie had wondered what Mother was going to do to the baby once he or she arrived. Mother was never like this before, not until she found out Maggie was pregnant with James’s baby. The day replayed like an old vinyl record, skipping and echoing.
“Mother, I’m pregnant.” Maggie’s heart constricted tighter than a dried-up fruit. She knew Mother would be disappointed. Mother had only met James once, then forbade Maggie to ever see him again. Maggie was already eighteen, but didn’t have a job that would allow her to leave home, and she hadn’t known James for that long. But when she fell for him, she fell fast, and she fell hard.
“With that man’s baby?” Mother screeched and slapped the wall so hard a few of the pictures twisted to the side in a crooked dance.
He was twenty-eight, and maybe that was Mother’s problem, but it wasn’t Maggie’s. “Yes, his baby. Who else’s baby would it be?”
“Obviously, it could be anyone’s now that I know I raised a harlot who sleeps with evil,” Mother spat and slapped the wall harder. This time a picture slid down the wall and crashed along the floor. Glass broke and shattered into a mixture of large and tiny pieces.
“I’m going to tell him now, but I wanted you to know first.” Maggie turned around without uttering another word, her red dress swishing.
It would take some time for Mother—Maggie too.
Mother didn’t follow Maggie to her room as she went to gather a few things for their dinner tonight. Maybe James would let Maggie move in with him. If not, she needed to figure things out on her own.
Maggie walked to the closet and collected a weekend’s worth of clothing and stuffed it all into her backpack before she sat heavily on the bed with a sigh. “How could I have let this happen?” she whispered. Tears slid down her face, and she felt like screaming.
The shuffle of footsteps sounded behind her. Without turning around, Maggie said, “I know, Mother. When I get back, I’ll sit down and talk about it with you.”
Something soft and wet pressed against Maggie’s nose and mouth, causing her to struggle to breathe. Choking, Maggie tried to break away from the cloth, but black dots pulled at the edges of her eyes until she collapsed.
Maggie’s eyelids fluttered open for a second, then she was yanked back down to the blackened pit. With all the strength she could muster, Maggie attempted to lift her eyelids open again, only to catch a blurry glimpse of golden hair, blue eyes, and a straight nose.
“Mother?” Maggie gasped. She moved to push herself off the floor, but her wrists were bound together by something. Handcuffs.
“You’re all right, Maggie. You’re safe now.” Mother walked toward Maggie and gripped her shoulders to tug her into a sitting position on her knees.
The woman had gone mad. Maggie’s mother had always been strict, but this was different. As her heartbeat quickened, something told her that she needed to escape.
Maggie’s gaze flicked from left to right, taking in the poorly-lit room and the turquoise-painted walls. In the center rested an obsidian, rectangular box, the size and shape of a coffin. She had never seen this place before. The room slowly stopped spinning, and Maggie tried to swallow, finding instead that her throat was dry. “Where am I?”
Mother’s hazel eyes narrowed at Maggie, and she shuddered. “I said you were safe. You’re safe here from him.” She ran a hand over her bun. “You, dear child, aren’t going anywhere.”
Rubbing the insides of her wrists, Maggie was unable to squeeze out from the cuffs. “How long are you planning to keep me here?”
Mother reached behind her back, drawing out a tan ruler. Before Maggie could speak, Mother slammed the wood against her knuckles. Maggie yelped as pain coursed through her fingers. The ruler slapped her knuckles once more.
Mother ran the wood across her palm. “I’ve already answered that question, Maggie.”
Maggie held her breath, wishing for the ache in her hands to cease.
“You brought him here!” Mother screamed, cracking the ruler to her thigh at the same time.
Maggie’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stuttered, praying that the ruler wouldn’t come down on her knuckles again.
Mother took a step closer toward her. “The man with the ship. Who else?”
“Ship?” Maggie furrowed her brow, confusion encircling her. “Man?”
Mother reached out and gripped the collar of Maggie’s dress. Beads of perspiration coated Mother’s forehead. “The seed! The seed! You’re carrying his blasted seed.”
“What are you talking about?” Maggie bit back.
“His child!”
“James? You’re talking about James. He doesn’t have a ship!” she shouted in Mother’s face.
“I’m going to have to tuck you away until we can hide the child. Get in the box now!”
Maggie’s gaze angled toward the dark object. “I’m not getting in there.”
Mother grabbed Maggie by the arms, her nails digging crescent moons into her flesh. Maggie’s heart pounded against her sternum as she grew panicked.
Hoping to hit Mother in the face, Maggie threw her head forward. The contact caused pain to ripple through Maggie as Mother drew in a sharp breath. She hurried to stand, desperately needing to leave the room, but her feet lost purchase, her balance gone when Mother’s hands clamped down on her arms. Maggie’s back hit the hard surface inside the box, the air leaving her lungs. She lay dazed, helpless, as the heavy lid slammed shut.
Now, Mother stood before her, appearing as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks with her sunken cheeks and purple bags beneath her eyes. “We have to get the baby away. I’ve told you that.” Her voice was frantic.
“You’re mad and—” A sharp ache swarmed in Maggie’s stomach, her knees buckling, and she collapsed against the cement flooring.
Mother’s eyes widened and she knelt beside Maggie. “The baby is coming, and we have to hurry before he arrives. Lay on your back.”
Maggie didn’t answer when the pain increased, only did as she was asked. Mother spread Maggie’s knees apart and hiked up her dress above her waist. Heavy breaths escaped Maggie’s lips as a warm liquid pooled out from between her legs.
Tightening her fists, Maggie clenched her teeth and fought back the waves of agony pulsing through her abdomen and lower back. Mother attempted to calm Maggie’s nerves by rubbing her knees, and she couldn’t find the energy to shove her away.
“Push,” Mother shouted, clenching one of Maggie’s thighs.
For once, Maggie listened. Pushing and screaming and pushing again and again, the room growing smaller and smaller around her. She didn’t know how much time had passed when, finally, a loud wail filled the air, bouncing off the walls.
“It’s a boy.” Mother sighed in relief, bringing the red-faced infant up to Maggie. He was a wrinkled thing with a button nose and pale hair atop his head.
“Peter,” Maggie whispered, chest heaving.
A heavy noise rumbled from somewhere outside the room, then what sounded like a shattering of glass. Maggie froze.
Mother’s eyes widened and her lips parted as she focused on Maggie and asked, “You or the baby?”
“What?” What the hell kind of question was that? And why would she even need to make that choice?
“Who would you save?” Mother’s gaze darted between Maggie and the closed door. “I can’t save you both.”
Maggie knew Mother needed help, and to keep Peter safe for now, she would choose. A fear swarmed over her, one that festered within her thoughts of Mother hurting the baby. “Peter.”
Mother kissed her forehead with tenderness. “I love you, Maggie. You’ll understand why I did this when he gets here.” Without another word, Mother rushed out of the room, cradling Peter tightly in her arms.
Maggie lifted herself on her forearms, exhaustion consuming her as she pushed herself up to stand, the chains and handcuffs still intact. The door stood wide open, and Maggie hobbled toward the exit to chase after Mother. Blood streamed down her thighs, the chains clanking with each step.
She reached the doorway—only to crash into a hard chest. Maggie stumbled back to look up at a bearded face, chestnut eyes, dark hair swept back. He wore a red and black cloak that fell to his knees, and she saw at the end of its right sleeve, not a hand but a silver hook. It took her a second to recognize the man.
“James?” she rasped.
“Maggie, where’s your mother?” His tone was straight and to the point, no surprise in seeing her for the first time in months.
“She took the baby, our baby, James.” Maggie’s gaze shot wildly down the empty, narrow hallway.
“It took me a while to realize it was her,” James growled, a deep scowl settling on his handsome face. “Then when you two disappeared, it all came to me. You know, your mother and I have a history together. In a place called Neverland.”
Maggie’s eyes widened, and nausea filled her stomach.
James lifted his hand and slid his index finger across her lower lip. “Don’t give me that look. Tinker and I never once had relations like you and I did, my beauty.”
“James?” Maggie’s voice trembled.
“I know all about the prophecy, and I will find our precious Peter Pan.” He paused. “And he will die.”
Maggie’s words turned to concrete in her throat. She couldn’t wrap her mind around what he’d said.
“How do you know the baby’s name?” she finally managed to get out.
He didn’t answer, only gripped her upper arms, and she couldn’t escape his grasp. James lifted her and walked toward the middle of the room while she twisted and kicked, but her muscles were too weak after giving birth. As he reached the box, James dropped her inside. Maggie gasped from the sharp pain radiating up her spine.
“This is full of maps of the place where I’m returning on my ship.” He lifted something from his back pocket—a book—and tossed it inside with her before slamming the lid. “But I don’t think you’ll be able to catch up.”
Maggie screamed, venom in her voice. “Let me out, you mother fucker!” Strength came back to her as she twisted and thrust her body within the confines of the box, but the lid didn’t move a single inch. There was a click-click-click. Each bolt being locked.
“Enjoy your rest, my beauty,” James crooned.
The sound of his footsteps faded away, and Maggie continued to bang and bang against the lid until her fists were raw, her voice hoarse.
A sinking feeling washed over Maggie when smoke enveloped her, stinging her eyes. Her breaths started to come in short gasps as her lungs screamed in protest. The temperature within the box rose, and Maggie knew she would never leave again.
She waited for blistering, searing flames to cook her flesh and lick the skin from her bones. But Maggie knew in her heart that she’d made the right choice in saving Peter.
