WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER IS EXPLICIT, IF YOU ARE STILL AN INNOCENT CHILD DO NOT CONTINUE TO READ THIS.
--
The next few days passed very slowly, and they were all uneventful. One of the Lost Boys had found an old book under a load of junk and gave it to Wendy to read to them. Whenever one of the Lost Boys ripped their clothes during a raid or just playing around, Wendy would always fix it up for them. She was good in her work, but she held no passion. Wendy's thoughts would always stray back to her brothers. She didn't know if they were dead or alive, but she chose to hope, she chose that they were still alive.
One day, Wendy got out of the bed and wandered around the hideout for the first time. She was going to look for Peter, and order him to help find her brothers.
The Lost Boys were out on a raid with Rufio to guide them, and so Peter was left here to take care of Wendy. This happened sometimes, but most of the time Wendy never saw Peter. He would only come in to give her some food, and to take away the plate.
Wendy tried every door she could find. She opened the first door on her right and saw that it was a kitchen. Well, if you called a broken refrigerator, a rusted stove, and a bucket full of water a kitchen. The next door was filled with trash and junk, as soon as Wendy smelled it she almost fainted. It smelled like someone died in there, and for all she knew someone could have. She continued to open random doors, revealing broken beds, futons laid out on the floors, and a room filled with an assortment of different balls. Wendy sighed and tried the last door, thinking that maybe Peter had left somewhere.
The door creaked open, and Wendy peered inside it. The walls were cracked and broken, the floor was a dirty tile, and there was a small metal tub in the middle of the room. It wasn't empty.
Wendy gazed at the figure in the tub. His long dark blond hair clung to his neck and the side of his face, wet with moisture. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing deep. A few moments passed and Peter finally opened his eyes and stared at Wendy.
First, anger flooded his face then as quickly as his skin began to flush his expression turned to fear and he said softly, "Wendy, don't move an inch."
"What?" Wendy began, but was cut off by the sound of a gun shot. She screamed and ducked her head, falling to her knees.
"Close the door!" Peter roared, jumping out of the tub.
Wendy crawled into the room and shut the door quickly, reaching up to lock it with the rusty chain. Peter pulled his jeans on, and he barely had time to fasten them before the door was knocked down. Wendy screamed again.
After the dust settled, two figures stood in the doorway. One was a tall man with a bald head and a tattoo of a skull and cross bones on the back; it was Hook, the leader of the Pirates. The second was a short fat old man. They both held guns in their hands, except Hook also had a hook on his left hand.
Hook raised his hands and marveled mockingly at the sight before him. "What a lovely place you have here, Peter. I am so sorry you missed our last meeting when we discussed rights." He pointed his hook at Peter. "You have broken our agreement."
Peter chuckled, "James, long time no see. Have you met Wendy Darling?"
Hook turned to face Wendy curled up on the floor. A grin spread wide across his face, "Why yes I have. I have a dim memory of meeting your parents, they were lovely."
"You killed them." Wendy could only whisper, unable to bring her voice any louder.
Hook shook his finger, "Now, now that's not a very nice thing to say. You have no proof!"
