Darlings

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
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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.