Never Go To Neverland

Never Say Yes to a Shadow

Just as I had finished up my father slammed on the door. " I NEED TO TAKE A PISS!!!" he yelled. " Hold it!" I yelled back. If he was up to it that would earn me a slap. Opening the door I braced for a possible blow to the face. Instead I was shoved out of the way while my father muttered something about "goddamned teenagers". I couldn't help but smirk.
Snatching my pack off my bed I looked at myself in the mirror. Not bad. You could hardly see the rings around my eyes and the marks on my collarbone. Better button up my sweater anyway. I looked like I was going to church. I scowled at my reflection and it scowled right back.
Running down the steps I bumped into my father. He shoved me against the wall and yelled something about their not being a lot of food left. I mumbled apologies getting a swift smack to the head in reply. With my head pulsing I stumbled out of the front door.

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After the pain subsided I gazed around. Not alot of people up, nobody really gets moving in this part of town until noon. I plan on being long gone by then. Gazing at my watch. I decided I wouldn't have time for school today. Don't get me wrong I'm not much of a skipper. But I was just too busy. I found myself getting annoyed at now having to carry my uniform around. It was just a shirt but still.
Walking down the street I whistled " Happy Birthday" to myself. I turned sixteen today. Sweet sixteen. I probably wasn't going to be greeted too sweetly at home if I didn't get everything done by midnight. I hurried a little bit faster.
I'm not dumb. I'm not exactly a genius either. I show up at school to get homework and tests done. Other than that I don't have much purpose there. One of my teachers told me I have potential to be whatever I want when I grow up. I told him I didn't want to grow up . He just laughed at my "joke". I'll go as far as saying I am clever. Helps when your nabbing people's cash without them noticing.

While I walked through the streets of London I felt alone. I thought of my father and self consciously rubbed my collarbone. It hurt. But it could've been worse. The first time he hit me he apologized. I believed him.
As a kid he told me fantastic stories. I loved the ones of Captain Hook, despite him being the villain. Peter Pan seemed a bit off, even as a child. I would listen as he relayed the tales I had come to know so well. He would then kiss me on the forehead and my Mom would do the same. Before he closed the door, he would ask me the same question. " You will never go to Neverland and leave us, will you darling?" And I would always answer the same. " Of course not papa." Sometimes the details were slightly different but the main plot was always the same. Peter Pan never lost.
When my mother passed, my father changed and so did the stories. He insisted he couldn't protect me on his own. He started drinking when I was twelve. I suffered neglect but never abuse. Physical abuse anyway.
The stories took a dark turn. Peter Pan turned from a hero to a demon. He always repeated the same thing. Never say yes to a shadow. The first time he hit me was because I asked him if he missed Mom. He raged. It was scary.
Over the years I only grew tougher. Learnt to build a wall around myself. Expected nothing but pain. Still, all I could do was continue living and that is what I would do.