<div style="text-align: center"><b><u>Wendy Darling</u></b><br/>
<i>Darling Estate</i>​</div><br/>The oppressive dampness of the fog was gone but remnants of it clung to her skin like spiderwebs wrapping her in their sticky webs.  There was no more rolling deck under her feet.  There were no more creaking ropes and snapping sails over her head.<br/><br/>There was no more hook.<br/><br/>But then why could she still the way it gleamed as it reached to tear her asunder, to grab her, to<i>hurt</i>her?<br/><br/>Wendy didn’t blink.  Not once.  She curled into the smallest ball possible, hiding from the golden hook in the safety of her bed.  The screams echoing around the room made her flinch.  Where were they coming from?  Why wouldn’t that person<i>stop</i>wailing?<br/><br/>A soft soothing shush of a sound caught her attention.  Wide blue eyes showing far too much of the white flicked to the left then back off to the distance.  The soft noise made the howls of despair slowly dissipate and disappear, their echoes still bouncing around the high-beamed ceilings of Darling Manor.<br/><br/>Hands, big strong hands, hands<i>not</i>hooks, reached for her, tugged and pulled her close.  Wendy’s spine stiffened into a steel rod.  Thin hands, still trembling and damp from the mysterious mist, rose, wanting to push and shove against the warm body touching hers.  Her fingers splayed in the air centimeters from his chest, hesitating.  Pushing and shoving and fighting back had only ever gained her restraints and drugged oblivion.<br/><br/>She tipped her head and let her hands fall to her lap.  Glossy dark hair tumbled in front of her face.  Her cheek brushed against the man’s shirt.  The fabric under her skin was smooth, thin, soft, not the scratchy rough cheap cloth the men who treated her so horribly for so many years wore.  This was not a dream.  This was very real.  This was her bedroom.<br/><br/>A quiet purr of curiosity tickled the back of her throat.  Who was this man and why was he here?  The ramrod stiffness of her back melted as she curled against this stranger.  He wanted to soothe her, to placate the turmoil in her brain.  She would play his game.<br/><br/>One arm wound around his shoulder, her face burying into the side of his neck.  “Did you see him?” she murmured against his skin.  “Did you?”<br/><br/>Small and fragile, she crawled onto his lap and curled into his chest.  One hand rose, her fingers curling into the scruff along his jaw, drawing him down to look into wide eyes.  “Did you see<i>the hook</i>?”