When you are a lady in 1900 the future is written before you've even lived it.

It's no surprise that the McAlister house was having this conversation, about Marriage and children, but it wasn't a couple, it was a mother and father, talking to their 12-year-old daughter named Marissa, who had just finished her first menstrual cycle.

"You need to start courting as soon as possible, a girl of your social standing will require more help than normal. You will begin your training tomorrow " Francis McAlister, Marissa's father, a man of high standards, and low means of finances, raising his voice no higher than that of an ant screaming, which, if amplified by a thousand, would be a normal level of speaking. However, it wasn't the volume that caused a sinking feeling in her chest, it was the tone of his voice that made her suddenly feel so alone, even though her mother was there, working on a new dress, which had many frills, and a matching pinafore that was detachable.

Marissa, though not above average in intelligence, had her wits about her. She didn't pout, or whine, or put up a fight. She straightened her posture, held her head high, softening her features, standing up as she made her way, only a few steps to where her father sat in his favorite chair. She bent down so she would be eye level, "Father, I understand, and I appreciate all that you have done for me. My only request is this; If I must marry soon, may I have some say of whom my husband to be is?" holding one of his hands, with two of her dainty ones, one on the top, her other on the bottom.

He thought for a moment, pondering his daughter's rather unusual request, because of the times. Marriage was an economic deal, not a romantic one, more often than not. He furrowed his brows, "Why do you wish to choose, I know more impressive prospects than you would".

It took everything in her not to overreact. She lightly cleared her throat, "Well" she thought for a moment, "I want to make sure that I can make him happy. I hope to get to know him first, and him, I" standing up, still holding his hands.

He shook his head, "What you are talking about is simply not realistic. It is much too risky to attempt".

Mother rarely spoke up, but this was one of those times, "Darling, now let's think this through. Would it really be so awful to allow Marissa this one thing? She doesn't ask for much. And besides, what if getting to know eachother actually helps her gain a match? It worked out well for us".

He looked over at his wife, thinking deeply, then nodded, turning back to his daughter, "How about we do a trial run basis. I find you a suitor, and I'll give you time to get to know each other before any decisions are made".

Marissa smiled, nodding her head, hugging her father and kissing his cheek, "Oh thank you, Papa, I promise to do my best to make a good impression".

Though Marissa was beaming with happiness, she was truly still scared inside, but at least this way she had just enough control to stay on Papa's good side, but still get what she wants, which was absolute freedom of choice.

Papa nodded, a slight smile back, "You are welcome. Now, start getting ready for bed, you have a big day ahead of you tomorrow, with school, and then a suiter will be coming by for tea".

"Yes Papa, good night" getting up from the arm of the chair, and making her way to her bedroom up the stairs.

She quickly jogged her way up the stairs, into her room, where She laid out her long-sleeved soft white nightgown, that had frills on the arms, as well as undergarments.

Then she made her way to the Powder room and began to run herself a bath, with nice hot water, as she undressed and retrieved her soap and washcloth. She pinned up her hair, then sat in the porcelain tub, relaxing her stressed muscles.

Taking the white washcloth, she soaked it in the hot water, then suds the bar soap against it. Once to a lather of her liking, she scrubbed down her body thoroughly, rinsed off, then got out of the tub, allowing the water to drain as she dried off with her towel.

Quickly she wrapped the towel around her, then ran into her bedroom, shutting the door.

As she put on her nightgown, she thought about what tomorrow might bring. She said to herself, "Perhaps my suiter will be young, and interesting to talk to".

She was right about one thing, he was interesting to talk to. Well, at least when he did talk. He was a quiet sort of man, that was in his mid-20s. He was sort of attractive, in an intellectual way.

Once all dressed, she put another log on her dying fire, let down her long straight hair, and began to braid it.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement at her window. She assumed it to be just a bird, even though it was 9 o clock at night and the birds should be in bed, as should she.

Then things really became strange, she heard a voice that sounded like that of a young man, no older than 15, which said, "What is that thing you are doing with your hair?"

She looked up fast, about to scream. He quickly flew over to her, and covered her mouth with his hand, "Please don't scream".

She nodded, letting go of her hair and pushing him away, getting his hand off her mouth, "Who are you? And did you just fly?!" Her voice, shaky, as she slowly stood up from her bed, heading to her door.

The boy stood up straight, and said, "I am Peter, Peter Pan" looking slightly proud of himself, saying his name.

She looked him up and down. His garb was a bunch of leaves that covered his legs, and part of his torso, but he was still very much exposed. Once she thought for a moment, she removed her hand from the door, not taking her eyes off of him, "Okay, I believe you, Peter" she said, very cautiously, coming a little closer. She did not know why she believed him, it wasn't like her to be so quick to accept an explanation so far-fetched, but she could tell he meant what he said. "But how did you get in here? My room is ten feet up, with no stairs or ladder".

He crossed his arms, and said, "I flew in through the window, you really need to lock it more often" in a very matter-of-fact manner.

She furrowed her brows, "Okay, I'll get back to the window thing in a minute" coming closer to him, "Why did you come here?" Sitting at the edge of her bed now.

He sat down next to her, and said, "I heard you reading aloud a story. It was about a beautiful lady in a tower, with long hair"

Her eyes lit up a little, "Oh! You must be referring to Repunzel. Yes, I started that story yesterday. Would you like to hear the rest of it?" She asked, very quietly, attempting not to alert anyone of the boy in her room.

He nodded very fast, jumping up from the bed, "Yes please".

"I'll grab my book, I haven't finished it yet either. We'll have to be quiet, and find you a place to hide because my mother usually comes in and checks on me around 10" taking her book from the tall shelf, then sat down at the edge of her bed.

"That's plenty of time to hear a story" sitting down on the floor, by her feet.

"How far in the story did you hear?" Opening the book.

"You just got to the part where the prince see's Repunzel in the window of her tower, singing".

She nodded, "Oh yeah!" Turning to the exact page, and continues the story, "Price Richard dismounted from his horse when he saw the beautiful lady in the tall tower, singing ever so powerfully, with a voice like sunshine coming to warm up the earth after a snowy winter. Richard was very nervous to talk to the lady behind the voice, but it only took five seconds of looking at her before he decided he was in love. She didn't even notice that someone was outside her tower, till he called out, "Your voice is Glorious, fair Maiden" to which she jumped a little, but then looked out the window. She thought he was a handsome one herself. She had never even seen a man before this one, but that made no difference, for she was so enchanted with him, and he, with her. The mutual enchantment was so astounding that they lept into each other's arms, and held each other. It didn't take long before their lips met eachother for the first time. He kissed her, and she kissed him, though admittedly, not knowing what a kiss is.

Peter tapped Marissa on her shoulder, "Marissa, what does it mean to kiss someone back?" He asked, at that moment looking up at her, as though she had the answer to life itself, eyes tuned in on her.

Truth be told, Marissa herself had wondered that same question. What did it mean to kiss someone back? She rested her elbow on the chair, and her chin in her hand, "Let me think for a moment, I want to explain it in the best way possible " she started, staring off into space out her window not looking out the window, but through it, not paying attention to anything other than her thoughts.

She sighed, talking slowly, "When you kiss someone back it means that you are participating in the kiss. You're present, you're with them both in mind and body, not because you feel like you have to, but because you want to" then she sighed sadly, "You see, Peter, sometimes people kiss another person, without that person wanting them to. It's quite selfish, really" she thought to herself out-loud.

This sort of conversation was not on Peter's radar, so to say, but he did not wish to be insensitive, so he nodded, and patted her on the shoulder. He then stood up, and bowed at the waist.

Marissa smiled, chuckling, "Thank you Peter, I-" just then hearing her mother's light footsteps, coming up the stairs. She turned her head to the door, then whispered, "Hide", as she scurried back over to her bed, getting under the covers, and pretending to be asleep.

Peter flew out the window, hiding on the side of the house.

Mother quietly opened the door, looking over at Marissa, who looked so peaceful, and careless.

"Oh my little girl, if only you could stay this care-free forever" a slight tear running down her face, for she felt that she was failing her somehow. If it were up to her, Marissa would remain a little girl for as long as her heart is content.

Though Rose did not love Francis initially when they were first married, it did not take long before she stood madly in love for him. She had always thought he was a good man, even when he was so wrong about something.

Just because it worked out well for her to marry for social status, does not mean that she wanted the same for Marissa, and deep down she knew that Francis wanted something better for her as well. She knew he was folding under peer pressure, afraid of what his colleges might think of him allowing his daughter to run wild, or at least their version of it. Respect was what he was raised on, while love was what he truly needed, but was too afraid to be a lovable man, for lovable men were least likely to succeed. They are not ruthless like the power hungry ones, so they are unguarded.

She quietly shut the door, now going to her room to ready herself for bed.

As soon as her mother had left, Marissa sat up in bed. Peter was no where to be seen. She quickly ran over to the open window, looking out of the city of London, on both sides of her wall, and he was no where to be seen.

She closed her window quietly, then went over by the fire, to put her book away, closing it as she put it back on the shelf. She threw another log on the fire, then braided her hair and crawled back under the covers.

As she laid there, desperately trying to fall asleep, she thought of her encounter with Peter Pan. She had heard the stories, so seeing him was not overly a shock to her, but it was still incredible. He was so charming, and respectful to her. Falling asleep was going to be a challenge; Nothing like this had ever happened to her. But, she still did her best. She closed her eyes, and began to count clouds in her head.

Peter Pan flew fast, now in outer space, moving at the speed of a shooting star. He began his way back to Neverland when Marissa's mother entered the room. Adults made him uncomfortable; They were everything he didn't want to be. Besides, he had to tell the other boys about Marissa. He hoped she would come to Neverland with him, and tell the boys stories. Besides, many of the boys had never seen a lady, that is before Wendy, who had left long ago. They've probably forgotten what one looks like, especially one like her.

Marissa was pretty, nothing too special, but very pretty, depending on who you asked. Her eyes were amber, like big pools of honey, with dark eyelashes and thick brows that framed her eyes, and straight dark hair that she would often curl with rags, and wear it half way pulled back. Freckles gently kissed her cheeks, leaving only a few dots on each cheek. Her top lip was a little more noticeable than her bottom lip, with a softly defined Cupid's bow, which could remind you of pink hills. At Twelve she stood at 5'1, and had small breasts, that were barely noticeable, unless you were looking for them, and if you were, than shame on you.

Peter now flew over the sea, waving at a pod of mermaids as he swished by in the air, arriving at Neverland.

Now only two miles away from the underground home of the lost boys, he quickened his flying speed, arriving in a matter of one minutes. Once his feet were on the ground, he looked around, making sure no pirates were lurking, then lifted a sheet of tree bark up in a door like fashion, and crawled in, sliding down the slide-like earth, yelling, "Ahhhhh" loudly, grabbing the other boy's attention.

The boys jumped up from their circle on the floor, playing a game. Usually they would be playing outside, hunting, fishing, running through the woods, but since it was night now, and Peter was away, the boys preferred to stay in their underground home, waiting for the stew to finish cooking, and planning their next adventure to amuse themselves.

They circled around him, saying things like, "What happened?", Slightly, one of the six lost boys said, and, "Where did you go?" Nibs asked, two of among the many questions.

Peter cleared his throat, "I flew to London. Marissa is there" he began to explain.

Curly asked, "Who is Marissa?"

"Marissa is a girl. She tells stories, and sings. I've been watching her family for a while. I think they are forcing her to marry, but I'm not entirely sure".

Slightly shook his head, but remained silent.

Some of the others, like Tootles, gasped, "No!" Without even having to know the girl. Out of all the boys, Tootles was the most compassionate.

The two youngest, who were identical in looks, said, "Why?!"And the twins, most innocent.

Nibs yelled, "That's not right!" Nibs was a lover of justice; He planned the battles, and believed in fair play, no matter who they were battling.

"Are you joking?" Curly asked, hoping it was a joke. Curly loved laughter, it was his sunshine, hot chocolate, and happiness all wrapped into one. He could almost not fathom sadness on a deeper level.

Slightly huffed, "How stupid! Where's the excitement?" Meaning about her life.

And Slightly was a boy of intellect. He enjoyed the journey of the catch more than the conquer. He and Nibs were the closest of friends for that reason. The best of battles were planned by the two of them.

All of these very different responses were said simultaneously, yet Peter knew exactly how to answer each very different question, with one answer.

He walked over to where the stew was cooking, looked into the pot, took a sniff, and said, "I've heard her tell countless stories, all ending in happily ever after" shaking his head, "This is not the same, and it's not right. I'm going back tomorrow ".

One of the twins asked, "Do you think the lady will come with you?" A slight pout on his face, hoping for the best.

Peter turned around, shrugging his shoulders with his hands on his hips, "I don't see why she wouldn't"

The boys cheered, not thinking any more about it as they gathered around the table, serving themselves stew before sitting down.

Back in the McAlister home laid Marissa, in her bed, dreaming of her wedding day. She wore a long white gown, sightly off the shoulder, with white flowers going all the way down the dress, with pears in them. Her hair was pulled up like her mother's hair, with a veil falling down her back, and sheerly covering her face, a daisy crown atop her head. She was a vision of beauty, but a tainted one, for under her gown, veil, and grown up hairstyle, was a scared little girl, made up to look like a grown woman. The church was decorated with flowers from top to bottom. Little baby cherubs decorated the ceilings. Her mother sitting at the end of the isle, watching her in disbelief. She turned to her father, who walked with her, holding her hand, wearing his finest black suit, and a top hat, looking at her back proudly, beaming with happiness.

Her chest began to feel tight, as the room started to shrink around her. Everyone's faces went from being clear and defined, to just blobs that she couldn't differentiate. Her feet stopped in their tracks half way down the isle, as she screamed, "No!", clawing at her veil and ripping it off her head, throwing it as she let go of her faceless father's arm, running back up the isle.

Just as she was about to run out the double doors, they slammed in her face, and a preacher standing there announced, "I now pronounce you husband and wife" loudly, and clearly, for all the faceless figures in attendance to hear.

Tears ran down her face, as a grown man, faceless, and in his 20's, took her hands. The preacher said, "You may now kiss the bride", to which the man responded by grabbing her roughly, and kissing her.

Her eyes shot open as she awoke from her dreaded dream, crying softly, but bitterly, sitting up in her bed. She gasped as her eyes roamed around her room, sweat dripping down her forehead, and back. She turned to her pitcher by her bed, and poured herself a glass of water, her hands shaking, doing her utmost to calm her breathing. She set the pitcher down carefully, and took big gulps of the water, wiping away her tears.

Once the glass of water was finished, she set her empty glass down, pulling the covers off of her body as she got out of bed, heading to her wash basin. She took her rag, dipping it in the water, and washing the sweat off of her forehead. Once she felt cooled off, she rinsed out the rag, ringing it out and putting it on her dresser.

She walked over to her window, and whispered, "Please return" referring to the boy she had met earlier, turning on her heal, then stopping, whispering under her breath, "Soon" before crawling back into bed. She slipped back under the covers, hoping for a miracle, but knowing that miracles don't come free. She closed her eyes, and decided to think of something happier.

What could she think of though that would take her mind off of her nightmare? When she was small, and had a nightmare, she could curl up in mother and father's bed as long as she knocked first, and stay there until she felt safe enough to go back to sleep. But she no longer had that choice.

After a few moments of thinking about what might soothe her, she began to control her breathing, slowing it down, and pulling the covers close to her again. She pictured a field of her favorite flowers, pink and yellow roses, surrounded by babies breath. Surrounding the flowers were strawberry bushes. Up ahead was a lake filled with cool, crystal clear water. The clouds were fluffy, and shaped like puppies and kittens. She found her happy place, and stayed there for the rest of the night, dreaming of that very location where she could be free.