Wendy, they called her. She was born with hair bright as autumn leaves, skin smooth as fine China and eyes bright like the Sargasso Sea. Her skin was freckled head to toe. She grew up under a roof with her wealthy parents, George and Mary, and lived alongside her brothers, John and Michael.

She was always young and free until the night she turned eighteen, when she knew that everything was going to change. "Wendy," her mother said, patting a seat beside her in the living room. "You're eighteen," she sighed. "You're getting old my dear and I think it's time you get married."

"You're right – I'm eighteen," Wendy replied. "But I think that's too early to get married. I want to live young and free and not have to worry about getting married," she pouted, rolling her eyes as she sat down. "Besides, there's nobody that I'd fancy marrying anyway," her English accent snottily added on.

"We can find you suitors," Mary suggested. "Can't we, George?" she turned her head around, calling out to her husband who was working hastily in his office behind the living room. He did nothing but shrug, unaware of what was even happening in the conversation. "Wendy sweetheart," she placed one hand on Wendy's back. "I believe it's time you've grown up. I think you've been around your brothers far too much," she confessed.

Wendy cringed, feeling offended. "First of all mum, I am very much grown up. Second of all, even if I have been around my brothers too much, they're equally as mature as I am. John's sixteen and Michael's always been clever for his age," she said. "Mum, you can't force me to marry. I want to find somebody and fall in love with them and do it when the time is right – not be forced into a wedding that I couldn't give a shit about," she snorted.

"Don't use that language under my roof young lady," George called out.

"You've told me to grow up and as far as I know, that's what grown-ups do," Wendy snapped. "Grown-ups stand up for themselves and that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm not getting married," she assured, making short pauses between each word in her last sentence. "Good night," she shook her head as she stood up from the couch and made her way up to her room.

She slammed the door behind her, startling her younger brother John. John was in his bedroom, painting away on his canvas. John had always loved arts and was in every art club there was in school. However, because of his love for drama, poetry, and museums filled with masterpieces, he was always made fun of. John had no friends other than his siblings. He adjusted his glasses as he walked over to Wendy's door and gave it a gentle knock. "You alright?" he asked.

"No," Wendy replied in short. "I don't want to talk about it," she paused. "Actually, I do," she shook her head behind the door. "Or maybe I don't – I… I don't know," she exhaled deeply. John smirked a little to himself before getting into her room. He closed the door again behind her, assuring her that he was the only one there that could hear her. John and Wendy had always been close siblings, ever since John was born.

"So what's up now?" he asked.

"Mum and dad want me to get married," Wendy frowned, lying down on her bed. "Can you believe it? Me? Married?" she asked.

"Yeah, I can't believe it at all," John cringed. "Who the hell would marry you?"

"Hey!" Wendy lightly tossed a pillow at John's head. He laughed a little.

"I'm sorry. But aren't you too young to get married?" he asked, face a little disgusted.

"That's what I told them," Wendy stuffed her hands under her pillow. "But now they're just rambling on and on about how I'm getting old and I need to get more mature and they're going to find me suitors… all of that junk," she closed her eyes. "I'm just so tired of all of that. Sometimes it's not just family tradition that I'm tired of, but family itself," she sat up in her bed. "Is it just me?" she asked.

John shook his head as he sat beside her on the bed. "I've always wanted to run away from home. Being a middle child sucks," he sighed. "I don't know if you've noticed but they've always seemed to put me in deep shit for no reason – and I have no friends here anyway. Hell, if I was to die tomorrow, nobody would even notice."

"I would notice," Wendy frowned. "Michael would notice, too. Don't say that."

"I know," John smiled, placing one arm around Wendy. Although he was younger, he had always been taller. "It's just… I totally understand what you mean. Sometimes, I wish I could just get away from here. Mum and dad – I – I really love them but… they make me sick sometimes too," he admitted.

"Well, like they say; you can't choose your family," Wendy sighed. "Oh well. I'm glad you understand," she smiled. "I love you a bunch, John. Know that I'm always here for you. And if any of those bullies try to burn one of your paintings again, you need to let me know this time. That's what us big sisters are here for – we're there to kick people's asses," she winked, playfully punching John on the shoulder.

"Sure thing, Sis," John smiled. He yawned as he stretched out his arms. "Well, it's getting late. I'll see you in the morning. Good night now," he gave a quick wave as he left her room. Wendy nodded as she turned out the light, shutting the door behind John. She crawled into her bed and dreamed, not just of anything, but of a day when all her worries would fade away and she could just be free.