Author's Note: This is my realistic version of Peter Pan. :) This is my favorite story as a child and still :D This is like a prologue chapter :D yes i like smiley faces lol

Do you know what it's like to be by yourself? To never know what you're doing is right – to be alone? You complain what is being served on your plate while many people like me can't remember the last thing that was in our stomachs. You throw tantrums; constantly saying you hate your parents for not giving you something so petty and yet…..there are many children being either neglected or abused. You complain about your job while many would do anything for your position and are struggling in poverty. You take free education for granted, not knowing there are a million children that are in a dark cycle of ignorance. You want a bigger house, oblivious to thousands of invisible numbers of humans having no place to call a home.

No roof.

No warmth. No shelter.

That was me.

I've been living on the streets for years, stealing and doing dirty, shameful bargains just for food and clothes.

I am fourteen years old; been on the streets for seven years. I ran away when I was just a little boy. Both of my parents used to abuse me. They would throw me down the stairs or break my fingers. Lace me up with bruises and scars.

Lock me up in the closest to leave for days; leaving me without food. I would cry, begging for someone to free me from the closet until I was red from weeping and pass out from the dehydration.

They would return, laughing as they threw food at me.

I remember these memories since I was only three years old. By the time I was seven I ran away.

Been demented from years of being unloved, hurt.

I don't feel sorry for what I do anymore – robbing innocent people. You know why? Because people don't care for the people that are suffering. To them I'm just another random number to the statistics of unimportant homeless people. People like them treat you like goldfish. They think: Oh it's okay, it was just a fish. We can get a new one.

I don't care if I hurt people. I have to do whatever I can to survive and keep the others alive. I take care of little lost boys I meet, all are younger than me – at the same state I was when I was just seven years old – young and innocent. I have to be brave one. I have to be the one that take cares of them – make them laugh – make them smile. So robbing people is nothing.

I'm too numb to feel.

It's late and it feels darker tonight. The little boys are gathering food in the dumpsters a few blocks down while I'm murking in the rich streets, looking for easy, vulnerable targets.

My eyes dropped, finding a girl walking.

She was a beautiful girl with gentle blue eyes, her soft, creamy skin; sweet smiling face that was framed by long loose auburn curls. She wore a white button up shirt, and a plaid blue skirt that hit her knees, and white slippers. She was in between her mother and father, her loving parents patting her head with affection. I swallowed hard from jealousy. What did it feel like to be loved? I couldn't hurt her. Her mother was carrying a huge purse – a nice one – the kind with a gold clasp and wore a nice fur coat. The little girl was so innocent – I couldn't rob her family. She had nice looking parents and kind faced younger brothers. I can't scar her the way I was. She was probably a year or two younger than me….I can't hurt her.

I shook the awful thoughts from my head, focusing on my main priority; to find an easy target. I need money. I need money so I can afford to take Slightly to the hospital. I hated doing this. I really do but you have to do to survive – and keep the ones you love too. I shivered from the darkness of the night, slowly stalking behind several feet from the picture perfect family; my breathing dead.

My eyes widen, seeing huge man appearing before them, holding out a sharp knife. The mother screamed, watching her husband being held in a hold by the man. The man smiled, laughing crookedly.

Something in me snapped. I ran towards them, instinctively stabbing the man with my knife. The perfect family gasped. I dropped my knife, my hand trembling for what I've done. I stared at my hands – my tainted hands. I killed a man. I never killed a man before. I had a knife as a prop so the people would give in easily – but I never used it to kill anyone before.

I looked up at them, seeing the girl's frightened blue eyes look at me. I swallowed hard, shaking my head, feeling the adrenaline mask my body. I started to breathe heavily watching her taking a step closer to me.

I ran in a flash.

Ignoring the screams from the adults that tried to get me to stay.

I just ran.

I turned my head back, sawing them go inside a house.

My head bobbed, clenching from the vision of blood. I killed a man. I had to run. Run.

Ran before anyone could get me.

I stopped myself from the track of running towards nowhere. I stopped, heaving, shutting my eyes. I killed a man. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. I felt tears stung my face. I never been so confused before. Was it right?

I only did it to protect them. But what if the man was just like me? Poor and out in the streets – desperate for money. What if the knife was just a prop as well?...

I was going to hell.

I swallowed hard, collapsing on the empty streets. I stared at night sky – the millions of milky, bright stars scattered in the ebony blackness of the night. I wiped the tears from my eyes, slowly lifting my right hand in the air. I closed on eyes, my hand trailing – searching for a star I loved. I covered the other stars, only seeing that second star to the right.

A trembling smile curved on my face through my tears. I always looked at the star for guidance when there was no one. I watched the shooting stars for hours until my heart relaxed. I jumped up, slowly walking back to the place I ran away from.

The family must be asleep by now so I'm safe.

I just want to see what I've done – to give respect to the man.

I stood several steps from the place where I killed him. His body was gone; police must have taken him for investment but they didn't take the evidence – the blood that soaked the ground. I inhaled slowly, going on my knees. I hugged my knees, covering my face. I killed a man that was just like me and all the others suffering.

"I'm sorry," I heaved, shaking my head. "I'm so sorry."

I never felt so terrified before in years.

So small.

"You were just protecting me and my family."

I looked up, finding the girl with the gentle blue eyes in front of me, standing with a sweet smile. I stood up, brushing off the dirt from my dirty rags. She was wearing a white cotton nightgown underneath her thick gray coat with a black fur trim.

"I killed him," my voice was soft. I wasn't sure how to act in front of a girl.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering at me with warmth. "He was a bad man. He almost hurt my father. You killed him out of defense," she forced an uneasy smile. "It was really brave of you." I shook, watching her bow down. "My name is Wendy Darling. And yours?"

"Peter," I grinned, trying to make her shocked face from tonight look livelier. I bowed down in a meaningful manner but it came out obnoxious, making her giggle. I took her offered hand, smirking. "Pan."

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