Have you ever stared into the mirror so long until all you see is shapes? No face, no reflection, just shapes. The girl, or young woman, I should say, was doing just that. She stared at her reflection until her face was just abstract shapes and she started to wish herself away from that particular time and place. There was a knock at the door and she jumped several feet into the air. Blinking, she shook herself and her reflection was whole again. She didn't like that any better. Though she was only nineteen years old, her reflection showed an older woman. Her eyes that had once shone bright were now clouded by sadness. Her glowing hair was now tucked into a tight bun at the back of her head. Worst of all, the bruises on her arms and her neck seemed to glow brightly. She was sure everyone could see them. But then, why would they be forcing her to marry this monster? She was sure her family still loved her, no matter how much she might have embarrassed them. Her father would never give her to an abusive man. They couldn't know about the bruises. She slipped her sleeve down and hid them quite well. Using a generous amount of powder, she hid the ones around her throat too. She remembered where those had come from. Earlier that day, her betrothed had come to call on her and when her parents had left the room for a moment, he had gripped her throat tightly and flung her against the door.

"Now listen to me, my little beauty," he had snarled in her face as his fingers pressed against her windpipe, "in a few days, you will be all mine and I won't listen to anymore of this nonsense ever again. You are forbidden to speak about fairies or mermaids or anything of the sort, you understand me? And I never…ever…want to hear that boy's name again. No one will rescue you. You will be mine forever." And just like that, he had let go and turned to cheerfully welcome her parents back into the room. She had stifled her tears all through dinner and waited until she had gotten back to her room to let her tears flow. The knock came again and she swallowed.

"I'll be down in just a moment," she answered in a shaky voice. There was no reply so she assumed whoever it was had gone back downstairs to the party. It was her party, after all. Her engagement party. Mr. and Mrs. Darling had invited everyone they had ever known to celebrate her marriage to Jasper Koones. To them, he was a handsome, wealthy, and successful man who could promise their daughter a wonderful life. To Wendy Darling, he was Death itself.

Wendy closed her eyes and took herself back to a time she was without worries or cares. The first moment she had decided she did not want to grow up, did not want to worry about adult things. She gasped as she felt a cold breeze surround her and heard a whisper in her ear.

"Forget them, Wendy. Forget them all. Come with me where you'll never never have to worry about grown up things again." Her eyes shot open and she saw the handsome youth standing in front of her, his hand stretched out to take hers. His proud stance he always had with one hand on his hip while he waited, his messy blonde curls looking quite windblown from his flight, and his eyes…those startling blue eyes gazing into her own. She had never forgotten those eyes.

"Peter," she whispered. She blinked and the boy disappeared. She looked around her room and saw her paintings, all blinking cheerfully back at her. A painting with two mermaids, not the ones you see in storybooks but dark mysterious creatures; one of a large black castle surrounded by dark water and clouds. Another of a little wooden house in the midst of a giant forest. All of Neverland. All of her memories from that mystical place Peter had whisked her away to years ago.

As Wendy had grown into a young woman, Peter and Neverland had never left her mind. She found that she loved to paint as well as write. So she loved to write novels about her adventures on the island. She painted beautiful masterpieces full of whimsy and fantasy. Her parents had encouraged her, finding that she had a real talent. She had even been taken on by Master Forgrown, one of London's most famous painters. Almost 6 months ago, an older gentleman had noticed some of her paintings at an art show in Surrey and asked to meet the talented lass responsible for these masterpieces. Master Forgrown had introduced the two and Master Koones had been enchanted with Wendy. He had immediately told her parents, who were beaming with pride to hear that their daughter had been noticed by such a man. Wendy did not like Jasper the moment she put her hand in his. She supposed he would be called handsome but he was much older than she was and as she had soon learned, a very cruel man. She didn't know what she had done to earn such displeasure and discord but the man clearly did not like her nor did he approve of her paintings. He scoffed at them when they were alone, calling them "foolish fantasies from the mind of a woman". But he had enchanted everyone else and no matter how she pleaded and begged, her parents agreed it was a fine match. Only two of her brothers could see how miserable Wendy had become. Her two youngest, Twins and Michael. Twins had had a twin brother but tragically he caught Scarlett Fever over a year ago and had died. Twins had immediately latched onto Wendy for comfort, only ever really being close to his brother.

Wendy had a deep affection for her brothers. The Lost Boys, they had once been called, Peter's gang and she had brought them back home with her when they had left Neverland. They had all grown into wonderful young men but Michael and Twins, being so close in age and being the youngest, still clung to their childhood pasts and Neverland fantasies. So naturally, Wendy related to them the most. Naturally, they were the two who supported her paintings and her writing and begged her to tell them stories whenever she could. Naturally, they were the most disheartened to learn of Wendy's engagement to the strange man, Jasper Koones.

"Wendy?" There was a knock at the door and Wendy flinched at the sound of her brother John's voice. He was certainly here to tell her to come down and join the party. She was sure she would earn a slap on the face from Jasper later that evening. Sighing, she clutched her skirts around her and opened the door. John's eyes widened and he adjusted his glasses.

"Wendy, you're a vision!"

"You're very kind, John. I'll be down directly."

"Father says I am to escort you down. A lady shouldn't have to enter the room alone. Allow your loving brother to escort you to your betrothed?"

"If you were my loving brother, you'd escort me as far away from that man as humanly possible," she muttered under her breath. John shook his head.

"Wendy, don't start this again-"

"Why am I the only one who can see it? That man is a monster! And he will be the death of me."

"What nonsense. You'll be provided for, much better than Mother and Father could ever do. A merry wife you would make, if only you would discard those childish fantasies of yours." Wendy looked scandalized.

"Fantasies?! You were flying right beside me! You fought pirates by my side, you were there too—"

"I never said I wasn't," he cut her off calmly. "But it's been nearly six years! It's time to say goodbye to Neverland and to Peter Pan. He'll never grow up but you've got to. It's time for you to start acting like a lady." He held out his arm and waited for Wendy to take it. Swallowing, she lifted her chin and fought back her tears.

"You're right, John," she said in a shaky voice. "It's time to grow up." She took his arm and turned her light out, casting darkness over the room and all the paintings. Neverland itself seemed to cry out and far, far away, up in the stars, the sound of a boy crying made the universe shudder.

When Wendy entered the room, there was a scattering of polite applause. The room was filled with people she had never met. She could see Jasper chatting with her father and John lead her to him.

"My dearest," he said with a false grin as he took her hand.

"My lord," she said quietly, lowering her eyes briefly.

"You look ravishing my dear," he leaned in to kiss her cheek and she shivered as his lips grazed her skin.

"Took you long enough. Are you trying to make me look like a fool?" He squeezed her arm so tightly she almost cried out. He shook his long black curls out of his face and turned to smile at Mr. Darling. Wendy tuned them out and her eyes traveled the room. Over in the corner, she saw a younger lad in a green suit huddled over and hiding his face. Wendy gasped and turned back to the men.

"Won't you excuse me for a moment?" Not waiting for an answer, she gathered her skirts around her and ran to her brother.

"Twins, whatever is the matter?" She dropped to her knees and gripped his arms. He looked up at her with streaming eyes and shook his head.

"You're leaving us, Wendy. And you'll forget everything. You'll forget about us."

"Oh sweet brother of mine, I could never forget you," she leaned in and brought him closer, stroking his hair. But Twins wrestled from her grip and leaned far back, staring at her.

"You've agreed to grow up. Peter felt it and now he's heartbroken. He knows you're going to forget about him. About Neverland." Wendy frowned.

"How do you know—"

"Neverland is connected, Wendy. We are all connected to it. I still feel it the most, the others try to ignore it. Peter has been calling to us for many months now. He's been calling to you the most. He's begging you not to grow up and close your window. You can't marry Jasper, you just can't!"

"Twins, really, if you think—"

"I know you can feel him, Wendy! He's never left your side. He still loves you. He's always loved you. If you could just—"

"Twins, that's enough," she said sharply. Her tone of voice made him fall silent and his lip quiver. Wendy's face softened slightly.

"I don't know where you've gotten in your head that Peter is calling to us…or that he loves me, but it's time to move on with our lives. My parents say I must marry Jasper, therefore I will. I'll never forget my time in Neverland…or with Peter, but it is nothing but a memory now."

"No Wendy!" Twins cried, jumping up and running from the room. She watched him go with her mouth wide open, and she turned back to the room. Her eyes met Michael's and she sighed heavily, picking herself up from the floor and accidentally stepping on her dress. She gasped as she heard a loud rip coming from her skirts and she saw the entire room staring at her. Jasper's face was a deep red and for a brief moment, she swore his eyes were too. She took a step back before she turned and fled from the room. She finally allowed the tears to come as she flung herself into her room and locked her door tight. She gave the room one long look before she knocked the easels aside, making the paintings go flying. With anguished cries, she flung the memories aside and started to throw everything that was in reach. When she was finished and her room was destroyed, she collapsed in a heap of material on the floor and cried a sea of tears. Nothing would ever be the same. She would never be the same. She glanced at the painting nearest to her, which was that of a proud young boy clad in leaves and vines, his hands on his hips in his signature pose, his hair a messy crown of curls. She squeezed her eyes shut and lay down on the floor, crying out when she felt something sharp poke her arm. She picked up shards of glass from her mirror that her aunt had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Running her fingers over the destroyed gift, her fingers felt the sharpened edges of the glass. Feeling more lost than she ever had in her life, she picked up one of the shards and held it in her hands. Not even looking at what she was doing, she felt the glass graze her skin and bit her lip to keep from crying as she felt white-hot pain. She felt blood trickle down her arm as the glass dug into her skin. Glancing up at the ceiling, she refused to look at what she had done. Transferring the glass to her other hand, she had a hard time holding onto it with her trembling fingers. More pain shot up her arm and she blinked back tears as she felt her blood soak her sleeve. She finally looked down at her wrists and cried out. The cuts were deep, the blood seemed to flow like a river down her arms. She reached out and grabbed the painting she had done of Peter. Her bloody fingerprints over the canvas made Peter look as if he were crying red tears. Closing her eyes, finding her peace, she leaned back onto the floor and clutched the painting to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her hands to fall to her side.

"Goodbye Peter."

sorry for all the narrative but as most stories, you have to set it all up. i'll post one more short one before i leave for work-please review if you enjoyed! :-)