A.N. Well, my first fanfiction that I've ever put up on here! Oh my! Not my first I've ever written……but the only one worth it. I wrote this shortly after it happened to me, actually. I could barely type it, I was so angry. So excuse the angstyness and mistakes. I have no beta, but I do it myself, if I can.

Disclaimer: Wendy, Potc, and of course my hero Peter do not belong to me. Ever so sadly. Though I would ADORE owning J.M. Barrie, too. Anna is mine, though.

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"How could you?" Her father roared. "You lied to me! To ME!" he slammed the wall. She could tell he wanted to hit her instead. The girl's eye twitched, but otherwise, there was no sign of movement. She dripped quietly, coldly, her towel wrapped around her tightly.

Her father walked away. She did not move. Her mother's voice came from around the few inches of partition between them. The few safe inches.

"It's not just this, Anna. It's several things." She sounded tired and frustrated. Not a good combination. At this point, Anna didn't care. She heard her mother again. "Come here, and take a seat." Cold. Commanding. No warmth.

Her father came back, but said nothing. His eyes weren't narrowed. They were wide. So wide. So angry. He slammed the wall again. Turned away.

Anna did not move. She could hear the chair scrape and her father take a seat at the out of view dinner table. Over a shower fan, Anna thought bitterly. But she knew it wasn't just that. It was everything. All the little things stacking up. The butter on the envelopes, the constant plates and cups and packaging being left around.

She changed first, as her mother told her to. Quickly, quietly, checking to make sure she had no expression, that she could hold her tongue.

Anna reentered. She stood in front of them.

"Take a seat."

She shook her head no.

"Take it, Anna. Now."

Anna hated it. "Fine." Toneless. One word with no tone, so filled with anger. She gripped the chair with the tips of her fingers and perched rigidly on the edge, as far away from the table as possible.

Most of the lecture just floated around her. Something about her not helping, and not being responsible. She knew that. She didn't really care. Her mother voiced her thoughts.

"You don't really care. You don't. You do everything unwillingly. The things that don't interest you, you just don't do them!" Got that right.

Her father launched into an angry explanation of how he, at her age, had to take care of his grandmother. He had to do everything, and no one ever asked him to. I'm not you, I will never have to do this, stop fucking glorifying yourself, Anna thought.

"It's time to grow up, Anna."

Her insides grew cold.

"Grow up and accept some responsibilities."

Those dreaded words. She let a tear trickle down her cheek, ignoring it. Her parents did, too. Wendy...

Poor Wendy.

Her father wrapped it up. "You're on probation. If you don't change your ways, Anna, you're grounded. Simple as that."

Her mother commenced. "Now go brush your teeth and go to bed."

She stood. She wanted them dead. She wanted them gone. I want you to go away and never come back. Pirates of the Caribbean. Funny, wasn't it? Did Wendy think that? Did Wendy ever want her parents dead like she did?

She crawled into bed, crying. She waited in the darkness, with her cheek cradled on a wet pillow, waiting for Peter Pan to come rescue her. He didn't come.

Anna whispered to the open window, waiting. "Never is an awfully long time, Peter... but I'll take my chances."