The stories were like magic. Each one she told made her feel free from the holds of her constant urge to clean. For a few moments, Wendy could travel to another world where only good things existed. A land of never ending excitement and fun, a land she could never really go to; Neverland. The stories Wendy told her brothers always made her happy and she could see the way their eyes lit up when she would begin the tale. It was only then that her hands would stop fidgeting with blankets to make them perfect, or with a sponge to scrub the floors. She loved Neverland, and maybe she was beginning to make her condition worse by traveling there each night.
It wasn't until her drug was taken away from her, though, that she became trapped. Everywhere Wendy traveled laid a new obstacle in her way. Whenever she entered the kitchen all she could see were the dark spots of dirt, or where people had stepped and allowed their germs to go across the surface. She also noticed every imperfection in the house almost instantly, the way that the curtains didn't hang exactly straight, or that the fireplace's molding was a tiny bit crooked. Her mind went crazy with it, and she began to lock herself away. The girl that told stories of Neverland was no more, in fact, she was replaced by a cleaning freak who needed everything perfect.
Then one day came where she snapped. Wendy noted the way no one in the family cared about the fact that she couldn't even properly learn because of the fact that she would be too distracted trying to straighten things up, or clean the floor, or make things colour coordinated. No one cared about Wendy, and all she could do was cry, once she was crying, she realized that if only she could fly and leave this world for Neverland. In fact, Neverland had to be real. She found her way to the roof, where cold wind whipped at her nightgown and hair, she closed her eyes and began to walk foreword. Maybe she should run, it only took faith, trust, and pixie dust to fly anyways. And if she had created Neverland she must have had plenty of pixie dust.
But then they saw, the police that is. They came running to the house and forced her down. She thrashed against them, wanting to go to her never land where everything was perfection. They told her she was crazy, she believed them. That was why she needed to jump off that building, that's why she needed to leave the world. They told her she was going to the asylum. Of course she was, a place where everything would be sterile and bland. Wendy was scared, what about her brothers, what about her life, what about Neverland?
She was crazy by now though, and she had earned her ticket to the Asylum. She understood, and was scared of the new people she would meet. But could the Asylum actually be like Neverland in a less colourful form? Maybe. Wendy couldn't think straight as they dragged her there in the back of a sterile white van. She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide.
"Here you are little girl, Neverland awaits," Wendy heard the scruff voice of one of the men who had escorted her here. If only she could punch him without being classified as being violent as well as suicidal, OCD, and off her rocker.