Originally written on my Quotev account, I thought it would be better published here! xx.
A seventeen year old Wendy Darling leaned her head against the cool window in the winter night, thinking of what was to come tomorrow.
Her parents wanted her married, and married for money. The Darlings were quickly burning through their savings after Mr. Darling had lost his job at the bank, and the only thing they really had left was a good name; a good name that could help them get their barely-underage daughter married.
So tomorrow the parties would begin, the balls and the dances with strangers and the 'excitement,' her friends said, that would come with courting.
But her friends had never known excitement like she had, never felt the clouds as they flew threw open air, never fought a ruthless one-handed pirate, and had never fallen in love with an immortal thirteen year old boy.
Four years had past, and no word had come, and it was time for her to move on and forget the boy who, as far as the rest of the world was concerned, never existed.
Michael and John were away at school, the last of Father's money went to funding their education, and so there was no one to tell stories to anymore.
"You'll be telling your own children stories soon, love." her mother would tell her, but Wendy could only sigh sadly at the thought of it.
She had been a mother once, she wanted to say, but those boys were all off living with their respective families now, you see, and the children who weren't belonged to Aunt Millicent.
So instead, Wendy sat at the window and waited, not really for Peter Pan any longer, but for anything that would come and save her from this misery.
