Whenever I go to sleep, I have the most vivid dreams, mostly that I'm flying above an island. Probably because that's about as far as I can get from here now. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. But all of them have the kids. My friends.

By now, Athena has a tail and five sisters. Belle is tiny, with wings. A fairy. Hook is a pirate, even though I never knew the guy. I have a gang of boys, and I'm their leader.

Wendy, Michael, and John can fly too.

It feels like I'm losing my grip on reality, cause now I can't see them any other way.

Problem is, I have to think something happy to fly, but now I'm running out of happy thoughts and the island is going grey. In fog or mist or just memory, I don't know.

I don't know if They are real or imagined, or if I'm even alive.

They call me 'Lost Boy' tauntingly, but I prefer Peter, or even Pan. That's my name, you know. I'm not lost, just forgetting. Maybe forgotten.

I've been stuck here for almost ten years now, and I haven't seen my friends for as long.

I'm not even sure if They are people.

But what I do know is that I haven't aged in almost seven years. Whatever They did to me?

It worked.