Peter Pan Fan Fiction ❯ Opening Closed Windows ❯ Beyond your imagination ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

A/N: This chapter wasn't planned. But I felt that I needed to explain more about Peter' situation
before continuing in the storyline that I've got planned out. So this chapter is a bit shorter than the
previous one, but this is all about Peter.

I hope that everyone who reads this won't find this chapter a bore. From the next one on it'll move a
bit faster. I just needed a firm foundation to start on. If I have left anything unclear, just leave me a
message and I'll put it in somewhere :)



Chapter 2: Beyond your imagination.

It was early, much too early for Peter at any rate. But here he was, sitting at the breakfast table
eyeing his foster mother with suspicion. She was looking at him with something that could only be
described as worry. Was she worrying about him? Or just trying to figure out how to get rid of him as
fast as possible?

He had been in her house for nearly six years now, but he still expected her to change her mind en
just chuck him out. He didn't trust her and mostly just steered clear of her. She had learned fairly fast
that Peter was not like most other boys. He didn't want to be cuddled, hugged of comforted. He was
perfectly fine just sitting with his own sorrows en nightmares. It had been a very long time since she
had looked at him in the way she was doing now. Peter was startled by the obvious sorrow in her
voice when she asked: "Did you get any sleep last night Peter? You look horrible."

Peter didn't answer her. She knew very well that he didn't sleep much last night. In the start, when
he had just started living with her she was awoken every night by his screams. It had terrified her and
he Peter realized it. It took her a month to learn that Peter didn't want to talk about his dreams. He
didn't want to talk about his past. He didn't want a new mother, nor did he need someone he could
trust. He told her that once, he told her that twice and after a while she understood.

She didn't hear him screaming anymore. Not because he had stopped dreaming and by doing that
stopped screaming. She just didn't hear him anymore. He never slept in the house anymore. It just
gave him awkward looks and even more awkward conversations. The kind that are just strained,
knowing that the other person really wants to ask something else but is afraid to do so.

So Peter just shrugged. "I slept just fine Mrs. Wainright. There is no need to worry about me."
And she looked at him as though he had just taken out a knife and had cut of one of his fingers just to
check if he had any blood left. She knew that he wasn't doing alright. She was just too smart to say
anything about it. Even in her house Peters temper was infamous. Bianca Wainright knew not to ask
Peter what he was dreaming, where he was sleeping and where he came from.

She was a very intelligent woman. With her plain brown hair and her brown eyes she looked just like
every other woman. It was het smartness in her tone that made her stand out from any other. The
widow was smart en empathic, two things Peter could do without. It made him remember the two
women in his life that had betrayed him. It made him want to curl up into a little ball and cry.

Not something he would ever say out loud. He still thought that his mother hadn't abandoned him,
he just refused to be forced into the jacket she had pictured for him and he had escaped. As for
Wendy. She just wasn't made for Neverland. She had been a girl after all, a member of the weak sex.
She had never belonged to Neverland to start with. He had banished her and by doing that he had
banished himself to. Not that it mattered, London was a far better place since he was back. He still
was as marvelous as he had been whilst being the uncrowned king of Neverland.

---

"Peter." Bianca Wainright leaned over the table en placed her hand over that of the teenage boy. He
pointedly pulled his hand back and made it disappear under the table. "Please promise me that you'll
go to school today. The headmaster send me a letter again. You haven't been to school in nearly a
month. School is important for you future. You need to at least learn how to write.
I don't know where you came from and I don't need to know. Just know that I am trying to help you
Peter. Even though you don't trust me."

The seventeen year old boy didn't deny that he did not trust the woman who had taken him in. Had
given him clothes to wear and the food of her table. He didn't deny it because it was the truth. He
could not afford to put his trust in one person and get stabbed in the heart yet again.

So he managed a smile. The left side of his lips curled upward and a challenging smile appeared in his
brown eyes. Bianca knew that smile and could guess the words that were going to follow it. "Would
you believe me if I'd say that I'm going to try to get to school today?"

The look on his face was almost angelic en Bianca laughed. Her hand touched Peters cheek softly, like
a mother would. The boy fought the urge to close his eyes and press his cheek against her hand. His
just sat, rooted in his chair. Completely unmoving and Mrs. Wainright said: "I will always believe you
Peter. Trying is the word that makes everybody get up in the morning."

As those words were said, Peter leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. A devilish grin
spread on his face. Bianca didn't see it, she had started to clear the table. She only heard the boy
murmur: "Everything I could tell you would be beyond your imagination. You would never believe
me."

---