Michael-
That night had to have been special. There must have been some foreshadowing, some clue of what would happen, something I missed, too busy drowning in my red plastic cup to notice. Everything was just normal… until it wasn’t. Until I got in the car and drove away, and part of me didn’t come back. I think about that every single day, I go through all the small details of that party, that night, in my head, but some parts are hazy, clouded by alcohol and exhaustion. I remember feeling the sting of my recently ex girlfriend flirting with another guy, the rage of the cheap beer burning down my throat, the sour taste of throwing up on the sidewalk, the blurry half formed thoughts about the upcoming prom, who I was going to take now that I had no one. Most of all, I remember hands. Grabbing under clothes, slapping faces, gripping the steering wheel, hands on my heart pumping up and down. Calloused old hands that don’t belong at a senior party in the small town of Rightward, someone's fingers tracing my face, fingernails staggering drunkenly over phone buttons “911”, and my hands. My hands were there too. I can see them now, reaching for another cup, reaching for another face, reaching for the door of my car, the one my dad gave to me because I promised to clean his truck later that night, my fingers circling the handle, and my fingers that strayed from the wheel. And that’s it. Broken fragments that I can just barely piece together in my head, just enough to know that it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. It was my fault we even went to that party, me and my buddy Mark. I asked him to go, told him it would be fun, we’d meet some girls and I would be able to stop moping about Sally, the damn girl who had no right to still be in my thoughts. He hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place, until I persuaded him. This memory is so real, I feel like I could reach out and grasp the branches of the tree we were standing under when I casually mentioned Sam, the girl he had his eye on for months, but too shy to confront her. I watched as he tried not to smile and I grinned because I knew I had won this time. All of a sudden Mark’s face morphs into something else, and I'm suddenly painfully aware this is a dream. I stand still, so still I can’t feel my heart beating anymore and as I watch, Mark's face dissolves revealing a little girl in a pink tutu, maybe 5 or 6. My feet are planted on the wet gravel of the road, rain pouring down on both of us. She smiles shyly and I reach towards her, yelling to get out of the road but she twirls from my grasp as I see the incoming car over her shoulder, lights blazing through the drops of sky, paralyzing me, forcing me to watch her sucked under the metal trap over and over again.

I jolt awake, sweat dripping down my spine, pooling uncomfortably where my back meets the standard white of the hospital sheets. My heart monitor beeping wildly, the nurses run in and confused, still hazy from sleep, I see the girl twirling out the door. Almost crying in my urgency to get to her, one of the nurses grips my arm while I frantically shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. I have woken up like this for the last three days since the accident, the nurses know what to expect by now, what to do and say when I wake up still in the thralls of a nightmare. The first one to enter pushes my hair from my face and strokes my forehead as I lay there feverishly, shivering from the effects of waking up so violently. And, like I do every single day, I immediately pass out. And that’s it. That’s all I get. A few moments of confused consciousness and recurring dreams that make up my days.

Sally-
I have been sitting in this chair for so long I don’t know if it’s day or night or somewhere in between because my legs are numb and my mind is numb. I just feel empty, my emotions have flown away, leaving me with a clay replica of my old self, who I was before just one week ago. Even my own thoughts have left me, my mind swirling in between the dream world and reality, confusing people and animals and inanimate objects. Michael took my brain as soon as I was forced to watch the stretcher that carried his hardly moving body into the hospital building, my legs frozen in shock. He stole my mind into that pristine white room that no one is allowed into except for family and shut it up, locked away with my free will which seems to have deserted me as well. My body sits in the chair still, numbness creeping up my spine and encasing my whole body, paralyzing me but my brain is still in that room, with michael. I could probably draw him perfectly from memory, my whole being completely still, my hands glued to the arms of the chair, I draw him on the empty canvas of my head.

Michael-
I know I’m really awake when i feel my feet twitch, but find it hard to believe as I had already had so many misleading dreams, tricking me into believing i was awake until I tried to get up, only to find my hands shackled to the bed, but not this time. This time it’s for real. I wonder if my family visited me. Probably not, my mother deeming it a waste of time, and my father to caught up in his work to remember to care. Slowly, as if I moved to fast it wouldn't be real, I lift my groggy head from the pillow that would probably have a permanent indent of my head in it, and look around the room I’m in. The first thing I see, is actually the lack of sight. The room is almost pitch black, with only a bit of starlight coming in from the single window. I try to lift myself off the bed but find I’m still too weak so I fall back with a groan and gaze out at the stars I had missed. My dream sky hadn't had stars, just an endless pool of dark blue. I catch my breath as I stare at the twinkling lights so far away, untouchable. I must still be drugged up on painkillers, because I try to reach out to the sky, as if it would take me in it’s arms and fly away from earth. I close my eyes for a second, but when I open them again, the room isn’t there anymore. I’m not in the bed, and I can move, no aches or pains or depression just a light bubbly sensation. I look around in awe, my feet sinking into the white sand and I realize that I’m on a beach. The last time I went to a beach was 7th grade and I don’t generally like swimming, but this ocean looked like an endless body of liquid starlight, frothing up to my toes. Mesmerized, I dip my foot into the twinkling liquid and I’m immediately shocked. This water is silky, gliding around my feet like one massive piece of fabric, the strangest sensation I had ever felt. The tree line starts about 20 feet behind me, leaving just this small stretch of beach. I wander through the water, picking up small colorful pebbles from time to time and slip them into the pocket of my hospital gown. Suddenly, my heart constricts, cutting off my air and I double over in pain, gasping for breath as my starry world goes pitch dark and I hear the beeping of a monitor somewhere far away.

Sally-
When Mark called me from the side of the road, the car in ruins behind him, I could hardly make out what he was saying through his tears and the static of a bad connection. I remember something about a girl, and Michael, and crash, and that was enough for me to call 911. I don’t know why Mark chose to call me instead of the police, but now I’m burdened with the responsibility of Michael’s life. Maybe if I had called 911 faster he would be in better shape, or if I had been able to understand what Mark was saying, I could have helped more. So that’s why I’m here, in the hospital, waiting for my ex-boyfriend to regain consciousness. I’m sound asleep exploring one of many dream worlds when I’m jolted awake by a strange hand on my shoulder. I craned my stiff neck up at the intruder and take in the Doctor's uniform. As soon as I realize who he is, I leap out of the chair, muscles screaming in protest.
“Sally hendriks?” he questions, a practiced blankness on his face
It takes me a second to process what he said, my brain stumbling over the letters before vigorously nodding my head, choking out a
“Yes that’s me, can I see Michael now? Is he ok?”
He slowly meets my eyes and answers “Yes, but he was just in cardiac arrest so I’m afraid he won’t be able to talk for a while. I understand you are close with the patient?”
“Mhm” I mumble “ex-Girlfriend actually”
“Oh. Ok that’s fine.” He looks slightly affronted, rearing his greying head back to peer at me through his small eyes, taking in my rumpled clothes. He turns and walks away, waving his hand over his shoulder to follow him. Eventually after a few turns through the antiseptic smelling halls, we reached Michaels and I took a deep breath before he opened the door and shooed my inside. I don’t know what I expected to see when I walked through that door, but it wasn’t to see him just laying there, face pale as the moon, looking like a withered version of his former self. Knowing he had almost accidently killed someone completely changed my view of him. Honestly, even after I broke up with him I still thought we were going to get back together eventually, but I just don’t feel the same passion when I look at him laying on the white uniform sheets. I guess I thought If he heard my voice or sensed my presence, he would wake up, like a scene from a Disney movie, but he doesn’t and that’s when I realize he isn’t the one for me, if there even is a one. Now all I see is a senior who partied too hard and almost killed a little girl, a pathetic version of the heroic person my artist's eye had painted him to be. I can’t count the amount of times I would look at him and mentally add wrinkles, smile lines, a little chub, imagining what we would look like growing old together but this time I couldn’t picture the lines crisscrossing his face. I gently lay my hand on his chest to feel his heart, reassuring myself that he is real.

Michael-
As the darkness faded from my vision I decided I had had enough of the water and made my way to the forest, ignoring the lingering pangs from the strange blackout a few moments ago. As i crossed the first tree, I thought I could feel something weighing down on my chest, stilling me for a moment before I shook  my head and moved on. I drifted through the mossy trees with my gown catching on twigs and bushes, wispy white threads wrapping around the fingers of trees. It felt like I had walked forever, all sense of time lost before I came upon a small clearing and peered out from behind a tree. In the middle was a strange sight, a small twinkling light hovering by the shoulder of a scruffy looking boy who couldn’t be much older than me. Sensing my presence, He spun around and shot me a mischievous smile.
“Hi,” he stuck out his hand, “I’m Peter, you must be michael. I heard you were coming.”
I knew I should have been surprised that this boy knew my name, but somehow it felt natural, like this was supposed to happen.
“Hello.. Am I in the right place?” I asked while studying him. He seemed almost timeless, with an adolescent figure but a clever glint in his mossy eyes.
“Yes, if you’re not meant to be here where else would you go? You don’t even know how to fly” he shot back at me, seeming amused with my confusion.
‘What.. what is that thing above your shoulder?’ the dot of light was gliding around his head and shoulders, spinning and doing figure eights.
“Oh! I always forget how clueless the new ones are. This is my friend, Bell. She's a faery. A sprite, to be exact.”
“A sprite, sure” i replied, dazed, “Um what did you mean by new ones?”
“Thats right, we get new lost boys all the time. They don’t always make it in my world, but I think you’ll be fine.”
“I’m a… lost boy? Like from Peter pan?” I suddenly understand where I am, and who this strange boy is, recognition cresting, a wave crashing. “You’re Peter Pan, aren’t you!” I don't know why I don’t question the fact that I’m in a child’s fairy tale, but maybe it’s because I’m tired, maybe it’s because I don’t really care.He smiles a last time over his shoulder before he walks away into the trees, following a tiny beaten path, just wide enough for two small feet. I hurry after him,disregarding the small twigs digging into my bare toes. He walks for so long, my feet are asleep and something sharp starts stabbing into my side but I keep going. I keep walking because I am in Neverland and maybe I can lose myself in this world, my previous one already a mere memory. And the little girl’s face is no longer burned behind my eyelids, replaced by the glittering green of Peter’s forest..

Sally-
After I leave the hospital, pushing through the big glass doors, i decide I need to let out some of my emotional build up. I hop in the car, slam the door closed and reach over my shoulder to buckle my seatbelt, simultaneously sliding my sunglasses on. I head down to my art studio, certain that painting will help alleviate the guilty feeling in my gut from abandoning Michael. ‘He’s unconscious anyway,” I tell myself, “he won’t even know I was there in the first place.’
I pull into the studio’s cramped parking lot, and amble over to the open door. I browse the shelves for paints and settle on some greens and blues. Before I’m even aware it, an hour has passed and I find myself staring at the beautiful forest my brush strokes had created. In the middle are two boys, one wearing what looks to be a white gown of some sort. While I’m adding the final bits of light on the trees, my phone rings in the silence of the studio. Startled, my brush swipes across the canvas, leaving an angry dark green slash covering the boy with the gown and effectively ruining my piece. Annoyed, I search through my bag for my phone and bring the device to my ear.
“Hello? Sally Hendriks?  This is RightWorth Hospital calling.”

Michael-
Peter suddenly jerks to a stop and I stumble to a halt, crashing out of my exhausted daze. My gaze wanders up to the sky, where I realize the sun no longer sits right above us. It has drifted down towards the land, and a dusky glow lights the landscape.He slowly turns around and points to the trees. I follow his finger and notice a small platform built around one of the tallest trees, an intense treehouse.
“Climb that tree, and the decision you make there will determine the rest of your life.” he says ominously. He reminds me of a fortune cookie, cheesy sayings and confusing translations.
Right across from the intense treehouse is another smaller platform-type house with lantern lights strung around it, and a warm glow emanating from the single, glassless window. The structure itself is a shabby replica of a small shack, and 30 feet up in the air. It looks to be made up of crude planks, probably just small trees cut in half lengthwise and held together with wooden screws. In spite of its humble appearance, it looks to be quite safe and cozy. I can also hear other boys’ voices drifting from the open door on the chilly wind that has started nipping at my bare legs. Muscular as they are from playing football, they shake under the strain of walking for god knows how long, with no shoes and the sun retreating just under the swaying tops of the trees. A few rays flash in between the trunks, quickly absorbed by the moss and drawn into the damp earth. Peter points again, more insistent this time and my eyes are drawn to the small rope ladder that leads up to the larger, more basic structure. I glance over at the smaller one with longing, the hut I am supposed to go to looks cold and uninviting, nothing compared to the bright cozy hut directly across. I trudge over to the wide trunk and put my hand on the scratchy rope. My hands are calloused enough from daily chores at home but still, they burn as the thick rope saws through my hands as I climb my way up to the structure. Finally I reach the top, my arms shaking, and a wild wind whips through my hair. Somehow my brown tendrils of hair have already grown past my ears, as if I had spent months here instead of a day. My white gown snaps back and forth in the cold caress and i imagine how i look for a second, a wraith shrouded in white, hovering at the tops of the trees, surveying the land before him. The wraith raises his arms as if to taste the sky. My shivering breaks me out of my thoughts and I wonder what I am to do now. I look over my shoulder and down, at Peter. He gestures to the other house and mouths one word that chills my bones.
Jump.

Sally
“Hm?” I mumble as i recognize the name of the hospital. “Is it Michael? Is he ok?”
“We have discovered severe internal bleeding in the patient and it is advised to contact family and friends. We're not sure if he'll make it.” The tinny voice emanating from my cellphone is suddenly too loud, too shrill for my ears and I gasp. My fingers fumble to the end call button and my neck is wet with tears. It’s getting harder to breathe as grief wells up in my lungs,
Clogging my airway and panic sets in. Panic that he won't live, panic that he will live but damaged. I wish that this never happened. I'm filled to the brim with wishes, that we never dated, that that party never happened, that he didn't try to drive home drunk. I’m surprised that I’m so calm, that I’m actually able to form coherent thoughts. I think I’m just too shocked to feel anything but confusion right now, most of my body just feels numb, like I stepped out of an ice bath and I have hypothermia. My body has separated from reality, drifting above the being that is rooted to the linoleum of the art studio, my dripping paint brush still in my hand, the ruined painting still propped up on the cheap easel. Slowly, my emotions start knocking against the thick door I’ve constructed around my heart. My consciousness huddles in the cold interior of my body, waiting out the assault. Finally, a splinter forms, widening and cracking until the door shudders under the weight of the repressed emotions until there is one loud crack.
And I feel everything.

Michael-
I look across the chasm of woods that separates me from the inviting warmth. My body shakes and I think about everything. My parents haven’t entered my thoughts for ages, my domineering mother, my weak dad, always pushed around by his wife, too cowardly to care. And my friends, not that I  had that many to begin with, I’m not even sure if people care that much if i’m gone. Not that people hated me, but I was just… there. Maybe I’ll just stay in this world forever. I take one more look at the ground below me as I work up the resolve to jump. I shuffle forward a few more feet until I’m on the very edge of the wooden platform built around the small house. I sway slightly, before reaching my foot out to take a leap, a leap of faith.

Sally-
Anger, grief, frustration, blame, guilt. I feel everything and all at once, and oddly at the end, something like relief. I won’t have to deal with my confused thoughts if he never comes back, I won’t have to sit through his trial, watch him go to jail. Either way, i’m leaving Rightworth. I can’t deal with my isolationist family any more, and Michael is taking up too much space in my heart.

Michael-
I push myself off with a grunt, and I’m soaring through the air, my hair fluttering behind me, my feet nearly freezing off, but I’m happy. I’m almost to the other platform when my stomach drops and all of  a sudden darkness creeps in, around the edges of my eyes, and I’m falling.

Sally-
My decision made, i realize I already have everything I need. I have clothes and money in my car already from staying at a friends house when I couldn’t handle my mom, and My car has enough gas to get a couple town away before I have to refill.

Michael-
My arms flailing, my heart beating as fast as a hummingbird and all i can think about is how free i feel. Like falling is more apart of me than fying.
Sally-
I run out of the studio and jump  in the car, slamming the door with a finality I’ve never been able to achieve before.

Micheal-
The ground is nearing, and I can make out the individual twiigs rushing by me.

Sally-
I've passed the town sign.

Michael-
M eyes are closed, my mind is clear.

Sally-I’m not coming back.

Michael-
I give up.

THE END