Darlings Read online

  Everland Eternal

  Darlings

  Book One

  By

  Ashley M. Swisher

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  ****************

  Copyright Ashley M. Swisher 2012

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. Though loosely based on the classic fairy tale, Peter Pan, the characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  For my father—

  The best bedtime story teller imaginable. A million thanks to Stephanie for being my support, cheering section, and truly believing in Everland, my mom for keeping me writing, my sister for her Microsoft Word skills, and my kids and husband for yelling extra loud to get my attention.

  I want to die here. I want to die right now. I deserve to die here. I’m dangerous. I hope they don’t let me leave…

  Chapter 1

  Gwendolyn Darling – Gwen for short – was sitting at the kitchen table of her extravagant suburban home, attempting to help her youngest brother, Michael, with his math homework.

  “I don’t get it, Gwenny,” Mike pouted, his chin resting in two pudgy little hands. Mike was an interesting six year old boy, a little overweight, and constantly wearing some sort of superhero cape, mask, and those too small red snow boots he had refused to take off for around two years now. Gwen was always thankful when she’d managed to pry them off him for bath time without a colossal meltdown.

  “You’re not even trying, Mike,” Gwen pointed out.

  Suddenly, a loud crash came from upstairs and clothes whizzed over the banister. Mike looked up at his big sister with distraught, ocean blue eyes. Well who could concentrate with all of the noise, Gwen thought to herself. She cringed, more glass breaking…more shouting.

  “They’re fighting again,” the six year old boy stated, clearly exhausted. She ruffled his shaggy brown hair.

  “Hey why don’t you take a break and go outside and throw the ball for Nannie, ok?” Gwen attempted to smile, though she felt as if she were already crying inside. Her parents only seemed to fight lately, her dad drunk more often than not. She wondered how her mom was going to cover it up this time, sunglasses? Maybe a scarf? Isolation until the bruises healed? Bang! The bedroom door slammed shut. She pondered how many prescription pain killers her mother was now shakily popping to make it through the day and if she would be attending Mike’s parent teacher conferences high this time, or if she even remembered they were that night at all.

  She tucked her long, wavy, auburn hair behind her ears and walked over to the large picture window overlooking the perfectly groomed yard. How wonderful their life must look to the outside world. She watched as Mike half-heartedly threw a red squishy ball for the large brown and white Newfoundland. It was as if Nannie knew how Mike felt and reluctantly trotted after the ball. Gwen was a senior at Parks Point High School, though she felt as if she were twenty five with two children Jonah, sixteen and Michael, six. Her parents had been substance abusers for around six years now and she stopped hoping things would change, and started counting down the days until graduation.

  Jonah came sauntering in, ear phones positioned in their seemingly permanent spot, no doubt listening to some sort of dark gothic punk music, far too loudly. He was a different sophomore boy. Unnatural black hair covered his sky blue eyes and a green ringed eyebrow piercing. His dark skater boy T shirt couldn’t quite cover his blue checkered boxers allowing them to hang out above his saggy shorts. Jonah was more of an introvert, extremely artistic and a brilliant poet, when anyone got the chance to steal a look at his work.

  He took out his earphones and listened, rolling his eyes, he went to the front closet, picked up his skateboard, and headed for the door.

  “Hey Jonah, wait a second, how was school?” Gwen asked maternally.

  Sneering, Jonah responded, “Well, let’s just say I hate school, and I’d rather be there then in this suburban house of hell.” He didn’t wait for Gwen’s response. “I’m going to the skate park, drive me?” The boy wouldn’t have had to been begging for rides, if he hadn’t rammed his father’s red Ferrari into a telephone pole six days after he got his license…on purpose Gwen assumed.

  “I can’t, its Mike’s parent teacher conferences tonight.” Gwen glanced back at the window checking on her little brother. She saw him lying in the grass using Nannie as a pillow. Sweet old Nannie.

  Jonah let out a disappointed chuckle. “Mom gonna be able to make it this time? We already know where Dad’s going to be. The local watering hole, looking for any tail he can talk into getting into bed with him-”

  Gwen cut him off. “Jonah, stop it.” Though she knew it was true. There’d been many nights when her father was too drunk to drive home from whatever pay by the hour hotel he had managed to get himself into to, and he’d called Gwen out of bed, school night or not, to come and pick him up. She dreaded those drives home full of his rambling about how awful of a mother and wife her mom Janie was.

  Speaking of dear old dad, she thought as he began his grumbling descent down the stairs, adjusting his tie and smoothing his slicked back chocolate brown hair.

  “Damnit, my tie clip, where in the hell is that tie clip?” He noticed Jonah and Gwen were watching him with disgust. “I’m sure your idiot mother put it somewhere nearly impossible to find.” Frantically, he looked around in hutches and drawers, grumbling to himself.

  “Well, don’t just stand there, help me look!” he shouted. Gwen began pretending like she was searching high and low, opening kitchen drawers, trifling through their contents. Jonah just started at him pondering all the ways he could knock his father unconscious.

  “Good lord, boy, what planet do you come from? Cut your hair and change those clothes before going out in public. No son of mine will be seen looking like some sort of weird social outcast,” he mumbled to himself. “District Attorney’s son looking like a hooligan, absurd.”

  Gwen went to check the pocket of his suit coat, that she last remembered hanging by the front door, only to find it was missing. She searched through the closet pushing aside her mother’s furs and umbrellas. No suit coat. The auburn beauty went to the window to check on Mike again when she spotted him through the window with a pair of kitchen scissors methodically cutting off the sleeves of her father’s very expensive designer suit coat.

  “Damnit!” Gwen jumped as her father shouted from behind her, observing the same horrific scene. They dashed for the door.

  “Mike, no!” Gwen hollered from the gray stone steps leading down from the grandiose front entrance of their three story colonial home.

  “Look Gwenny, I made a new cape! It’s black, like Batguy’s!” The boy twirled, his little red boots sticking out from underneath the enormous, now sleeveless, jacket. The boy’s proud smile quickly turned into a face of terror as Mike saw his father stomping toward him. William harshly

  picked the boy up by the back of the tattered coat and dragged him up the stairs and into the house. He ripped the mangled coat off the boy and slammed him down on a chair at the kitchen table, much too hard.

  William waved the coat in front of the boy’s ashamed face.

  “Do you understand how much this coat cost me!” he yelled inches from Mike’s tear filled eyes.

  “I’m sorry,
Father!” the boy squeaked.

  “This superhero fantasy world you live in is rubbish!” He ripped the boys red boots off his plump miniature feet. “You will dress like a normal child! Its sixty degrees outdoors! Find some suitable shoes! Anything having the slightest bit to do with this superhero garbage will be destroyed, do you hear me! No more! I want it gone by the time I return, tonight!” Mike started to sob.

  “I need my boots Father, th-they make m-m-me invisible!” he blubbered.

  “They’re snow boots, probably made by children in sweatshops in Taiwan! Who have ten times the work ethic of my inadequate children!” William grunted.

  Just then Nannie positioned herself between William and Mike. She growled, a low rumble, and barred her teeth, daring William to raise his voice to her children again. He backed up from the dog, stumbling over another dining room chair.

  “Nannie, down. Sit. Go on!” he hollered as she snapped at him. “Get this dog out of here Gwendolyn!” he demanded, waving his hands frantically in front of the dogs face.

  She took Nannie by the collar. “Come on big girl, outside,” Gwen said in a soothing tone. She ushered Nannie out the oversized door, still hearing her father rant about his suit jacket. “The big jerk. Why can’t he just get to the bar already. Banishing you outside. How could anyone make you sleep out here in the dirt?” She rounded the corner to the back of the three stall garage where a dog house, mimicking their actual home, was positioned in a pile of dirt. Nannie looked up at Gwen with sad big brown eyes and licked her master’s ivory and blush cheek.

  “Thank you, I love you too big girl.” Gwen snuggled her face into the big dog’s fur between her soft ears. She inhaled, kissed the dog on the velvety nose, and hooked the chain to her collar. “I’ll bring you back in after he leaves tonight don’t you worry.” Gwen reached in and pulled a bone out of the dog house. “Here, I put this in for you yesterday. It’ll give you something to do until I come back.” Nannie surveyed the bone, as if to say, this is a bone for dogs, I don’t see any dogs do you? Gwen braced herself to go back inside.

  She rounded the corner to the garage in time to hear the squealing tires of her father’s black Cadillac Escalade. Sighing in relief, Gwen surveyed the neighbors’ homes. They all looked close to the same. Sure some where different colors, some had slightly different architecture, but they were all outlandishly expensive suburban homes, with wealthy families inside. She wondered how many of them had secrets like her family had. Gwen took a deep breath and made her way up the stone stairs onto their sparkling white vinyl porch and into the front foyer of her home. To

  her surprise, she was met with Jonah hovering over the sink, blood pouring out of his nose, and Mike sitting on the floor, hugging his mighty red boots.

  “What happened!?” Gwen gasped.

  “He started to shake Mike by the shoulders, and I lost it. I punched him in the mouth, and he popped me in the nose. I have to get out of here, Gwen!” Jonah half pleaded as he kicked the cupboard below the sink. “I can’t take him, and her,” he pointed upstairs. “She doesn’t even know up from down anymore,” his voice softened.

  “Well can you blame her?” Gwen said matter-of-factly. “He loses it on her like this all the time.” She rummaged through the towel drawer. “Here,” she said handing an old rag to her injured brother. “Roll it up and plug your nostril. I think you’re supposed to tip your head back.” Jonah obliged. “Do you think it’s broken?” she asked her smooth voice cracking with worry as to how they were going to explain what happened to a group of hospital doctors and nurses, not to mention someone had to show up to Mikes parent teacher conferences later that night. His teacher Mrs. Collins had sent a note home stating that it was the third year in a row no one has attended conferences for Mike, and the school was going to have to take further action if someone didn’t show up to this one to discuss his behavior.

  “I don’t think so.” Jonah muttered behind the towel. Gwen scooped up a sobbing Mike and sat him on her lap at the kitchen table.

  “Oh honey, it’s going to be okay.” She buried his head in her shoulder, as he sobbed.

  “He said I c-can’t h-have them any m-m-more!” the little boy whaled.

  Gwen hugged him tighter. “Oh we’ll figure something out, Mikey,” Gwen comforted, her shirt wet with tears. “Maybe we’ll pack them in your book bag and you can put them on when you get to school ok?” He seemed to be alright with that idea. Soon, his bawling quieted to sniffles and he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  “Where’s Nannie?” he asked.

  “She’s ok. I tied her up out back,” Gwen, responded thinking of the poor old dog lying in the dirt.

  Ticking of the ornate clock broke the awkward silence. Five thirty. She grabbed the note off the fridge to double check what time parent teacher conferences began. Six thirty.

  “Jonah, could you find something for the two of you to eat tonight? I’ve got to go and try and get mom ready to go.”

  Jonah nodded still dobbing at his bleeding nose. “Yah, hey buddy how’s frozen pepperoni pizza sound?” Jonah questioned.

  “With chocolate syrup?” Mike asked with hopeful eyes.

  “Would we eat it any other way?”

  “Nope! Not me! Super chocolate monster to the rescue!” Michael jumped up on a chair, and leapt off as he made flying sounds, heading for the refrigerator. How resilient the boy was.

  Gwen made her way up the elegant staircase to her parents’ bedroom and tapped lightly on the French doors. “Come in,” her mother answered quietly. Gwen entered slowly to see Janie lying on her plush king sized bed, eyes closed smiling away. She had a fat lip and was wearing a disheveled white blood stained robe.

  “Hey, Mom I was just coming up to see if you were planning on going to Mike’s parent teacher conferences? They’re tonight, remember?” Gwen asked optimistically.

  “Oh, sure dear. That sounds great,” she answered eyes remaining closed…still smiling. Janie began to sway to some music that existed only in her damaged mind.

  Gwen sighed. “Come on mom let’s get your clothes changed, ok? We really need you to go to this meeting. This is our last chance remember? Before they call the Department of Human Services?” Gwen reminded.

  Her mother burst into tears and grabbed her daughter hysterically, pulling Gwen into the bed beside her. Gwen stroked her mother’s beautiful auburn hair, shorter, but matching her own tones. “Don’t let them take you, Gwenny. Not my babies. Not my babies,” she repeated over and over through foggy sobs.

  “Mom, they won’t take us, but you have to pull yourself together and get down to the school. Please mom.” Gwen begged. “Mom?” No answer. “Mom?” Again, no answer. Her mother was passed out. Realizing the situation was hopeless, she pulled down the covers and tucked her mother into bed. Kissing her creased forehead, Gwen went into her parents’ bathroom. Glass was strewn all over the floor and clothes were everywhere. The room was turned upside down. Gwen tip toed over the mess, found a washcloth and wet it. She made her way back to her mother and washed up her bloody lip. Setting the washcloth on the nightstand, Gwen sighed and reluctantly walked down the hall into her own bedroom, mentally preparing herself to meet Mike’s teacher…again.

  Her room was large, a typical suburban teenager’s room with walls a mixture of bright pink and zebra print. They served as a reminder of happier years, when she was just that, a teenager. Gwen rummaged through her large closet, attempting to pick out the most mature looking ensemble she could find. After several failed attempts she settled on a pair of black slacks and an ivory short sleeved turtle neck and examined herself in the mirror. It would do, she thought.

  Tucking her silky hair behind her ear, she let her mind wander to a typical Friday night sophomore year when the same crispness danced in the air and the town was in the middle of football season, a sport they lived and breathed for. The store fronts were decorated with window paintings of Parks Point High’s mascot Lynel the Lion, standing victoriously ove
r his opponent, usually their rivals, the Belmondt Bison. Gwen looked at the red glowing numbers on the clock. Five fifty-three. She should be slathering on lip gloss and adjusting her red and yellow cheerleading uniform, wondering what cute boy she was going to flirt with or stunts her team would perform, not devising a plan of how to keep her and her brothers out of the system. A sick feeling rose in her throat. How would she explain her parents absence this time?

  Just then something thumped against her balcony doors, startling her out of her self-doubt. Walking cautiously to the large glass doors, she paused, waiting for another noise to confirm her senses. Hearing nothing, she cautiously opened the doors, pushed aside her flowing pink curtains, and tip toed onto the white vinyl balcony. A bird, she figured. Placing her shaking hands over the cold thick iron railing, she leaned over looking for the stunned bird until her balance began to fade. Must have flown away.

  Gwen surveyed the back garden, sweeping over the fountain positioned perfectly in the middle. The wind whipped her shiny hair that sparkled redder in the sunlight, around her face. She put out her arms and closed her bright green eyes. Placing a bare foot onto the bottom rail she rose up on her tip toes, and imagined she was flying, far, far away from her life. Inhaling deeply, her nerves calmed a little in the brittle air.

  “That’s a long way down, Gwenny,” Jonah said slowly from the doorway. Embarrassed, Gwen quickly turned around, composing herself.

  Blushing she muttered. “Just pretending, felt good to feel the rush of the wind.” Gwen smiled half-heartedly. “Where’s Michael?”

  “Watching cartoons. Superman, I think.” They both grinned.

  “That show is rubbish, you know,” Gwen teased.

  “So I’ve heard,” he nodded his head flipping his midnight hair out of his eyes. “Gwen, really, what are we going to do? They’re going to call social services, and they’ll investigate. You know they’ll find out what’s going on with the ‘rents. It’ll be plastered everywhere. District attorney drunken man whore and wife pill popping lunatic, neglect children. Mike can’t be shipped off to some foster home. He needs us.”