The Darling children are dead.
All dead.
John, Michael, Wendy.
Peter Pan was a figment of Wendy's imagination.
Neverland was their heaven.
They jumped.
They jumped because of Wendy.
Her younger brothers jumped partly because their parents told them to indulge Wendy in her fantasies.
Partly because they had lived in Wendy's schizophrenic fantasy for so long that they started to seem real to all of them.
Wendy would make sure the window was open each night, rain or shine, so that the "boy" could come back to get his shadow.
John and Michael woke one night to an animated conversation happening between Wendy and nobody.
Wendy realised they were up and told them that that the "boy" was there to take them to Neverland.
He was there to teach them how to fly, and make all of their dreams come true.
The boys slowly believed in the "boy" as well half because of Wendy.
Half because their life was boring.
The children's life was boring
Repetitive.
So the heaven that they experienced was a world with
Pirates, fairies, Indians, and mermaids.
A world where everything was possible
Every day, an adventure.
Every day, something new.
So they jumped.
Their Mother sat beside the window
Because she didn't believe that her beloved children
Were
Dead.
Every night she would fall asleep.
Waiting, watching.
For them to come home.
They
Never
Did