7 years later
Wendy stared at the mirror, critiquing herself, she started from the top of her head and frowned; she then remembered why she was frowning. Once Wendy had started to mature into a woman just barely out of her girlish dresses her hair it seems was set on reminding her of Neverland.
Not the island itself but of a certain pirate who ruled it's seas. She watched in curiosity as her once blonde hair shrank day by day turning into light brown ringlets and waves. Her mother was mortified saying how horrible it was. Wendy always tried to ignore those remarks, as to a still maturing girl they stung. Her mother consulted a few trusted people and received the answer that this can happen when a young girl is making her way into adulthood. Her mother finally accepted the permanence of her hair yet would always tell Wendy how beautiful her hair had been before. It now mattered not to Wendy as she preferred her hair this way and was proud that her hair now brushed her waist.
Wendy moved onto her eyes. She looked at them she thought they were quite dull; a dull dark green encased her black pupils. The color was not even really noticeable. Wendy regarded her nose with little opinion as to her it looked normal, then she finally made her way to her plump lips still riddled with her hidden kiss. A kiss Peter almost took from her, yet she remembered the wave of uncertainty that rolled through her at the thought of giving the kiss to Peter, so it was still tucked away in the right corner of her mouth.
Wendy stood as to judge her body. She had the exact same figure of her mother with a few differences. Wendy was tall for a woman, standing a bit above a meter and a half. Her body was slim yet strong, or so she told herself.
Wendy also recounted the time her mother had helped her dress a few years ago after Wendy had been dreadfully sick. Her mother had stared at her for a long time focusing her gaze on her hips. She had asked if there was something on her corset, her mother then proceeded to tell her she had the hips of a woman suited for childbirth.
A cringe fell on Wendy's face as she also remembered how this remark lead to the conversation about a wife's duties on her wedding night, and what went into making those aforementioned children. Wendy knew that this was her parent's way of getting her ready to take a suitor, so she could finally check the final box that would mark her as an adult.
Ending the assessment of herself Wendy moved towards the nursery window and looked out into the bleak London night, lost in her thoughts. Shortly after their return from Neverland Mr. and Mrs. Darling thought it best to move Michael and John out of the nursery, Wendy could only guess the reason.
She always thought it was because no matter what Wendy refused to give up on the memories of Neverland, of course John and Michael acted as if they were just stories now, as they were too much of adults to tolerate such nonsense. Wendy sighed as she sat down on the cushion adorning the window seal, if only she could go back, leave dreary London and embrace Neverland forever.
What would Peter think of her now? Would he care that she was a bit older? Bitterness and hurt rose up in Wendy's chest as she once again was painfully reminded that Peter had never remembered to come get her for spring cleaning. Wendy had a myriad of excuses floating threw her mind as to why he hadn't come for her, and those were the only comforts she had left.
Wendy let out a dry laugh at the boyish mind of Peter, always forgetting, losing interest. How like a child. She could know realize that even back in Neverland she was more grown up than Peter, she had just been too blinded by his brilliance to notice.
Another figure tried to creep into Wendy's thoughts but she hurriedly stood and forced them back into the deep recesses of her mind. She froze as if she could still hear that dreadful tic- toking of the beast. After the fun and glory had worn away from their trip Wendy actually realized that she indirectly played a part in killing a man.
She cried and cried, guilt stricken. Michael and John tried consoling her saying he was a villain and deserved what he got, but she would not head them. She tried confessing her sins to one of the local clergymen, yet being aware of her proclivity for crafting stories he had told her "you can't kill make believe people child."
Her crying continued every night for a year, it only stopped because she locked away the thought as to not cause herself anymore mental turmoil. His last offer whispered in a smooth baritone embedded itself in her dreams constantly, "There's still room for a storyteller…"
Wendy's reverie was broken by the voice of her mother,
"Wendy, dear would you please come down there is something your father and I wish to discuss with you."
Wendy spared one last glance at the window, and out of unyielding hope she opened it and left for the drawing room.