Chapter 1
"You know that place between sleep and awake? The place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where I'll always love you. That's where I'll be waiting."
My mother used to say that to me every night. My mother's name is Wendy, Wendy Darling. She told me stories of Neverland and Peter Pan. I thought Peter Pan was so adventurous, so heroic, and so full of youth. I may have had these views because my mother used to be in love with him, or so she claims, as if he was real. Obviously she was partial to Peter, but I was drawn to one of the less prominent characters; Felix was a Lost Boy, Peter's second in command. Just as daring, reckless, and cunning as Peter, Felix also had a kind and protective side. He was tall, taller even then Peter. They were both quite muscular. (Hiking through the jungles of Neverland and fashioning your own weapons will do that for you). While Peter had bright green eyes, Felix had somber, yet beautiful, blue ones. He also had a scar going from his right ear down to his angular jaw. The scar was an intriguing contrast against his otherwise unblemished tan skin. Peter, on the other hand, was more fair-skinned; his face was smattered with freckles. "Cara!" my mother called. "Come down for dinner!" My uncles, John and Michael, were coming over. They also told stories of Neverland. They told tales of brotherhood between the Lost Boys, the battles they fought in, and the feasts with the Indians.
Oh, but I haven't told you about my father… the pig. He abuses me and my mother daily. He raped her and, well, that's how I was conceived. Not the ideal birth story, I know. But even though I was conceived out of so evil an action, my mother loves me dearly, and I her. Anyway, sometimes I wish I could just escape to Neverland with her to see Peter Pan and Felix, the Lost Boys, the Indians, the pirates, the fairies, and the mermaids. So many fantastical things existed in this place of my mother's imagination; I wished it was real with all my heart. Then we could run away there and never come back. I especially wished this that night… little did I know, my wish was about to come true.
When I walked down the stairs to the dining room, I heard my father yelling. "Oh no, this can't be good." I thought. I picked up my pace as I walked toward the noise. What I saw horrified me: my mother was holding her face, crying and bleeding, and my father standing over her with bloody knuckles and a scowl on his face. "YOU BASTARD!" I yelled, overcome with rage. I sprinted toward him and hit him with every ounce of my strength. I attacked every bit of him I could see. He spluttered with shock, then seemed to realize what was happening and started hitting back. "Stop it! Both of you, stop!" my mother was shrieking, but neither of us paid her any mind because we were in the midst of a very intense fight of both fists and words. He knocked me over and right as he was about to hit me one last time, my mother stood up, and with a completely calm look over her face, whacked him over the head with a frying pan, effectively knocking him out.
"Come on, Cara. We need to get out of here." My mother said, urgently taking my hand and dragging me up to my room. She opened the window and to my surprise, wolf-whistled out the window into the night. "He'll be here soon. Get a bag together, a small one, only of necessities." "Mom, what's going on? Who's coming?" My mother slowly turned around, looked me in the eye and said very seriously, "Peter. Peter Pan."