A/N: After spending the last week, reading numerous Peter Pan fanfics, I finally decided to try my hand at one. Cause let's be honest I love Peter Pan, but I love him more as the selfish conniving little brat of Once Upon A Time. So in saying that this will not be a story where he turns good, hey he might turn a nicer form of evil but anywhere near the realm of good not a chance. However if you find that Peter Pan is way to OOC or you have other criticisms, please tell me. I can't fix anything, if I don't know it needs fixing. So feel free to drop me a message and tell me what you think :)

Chapter 1

Alright it was decided, my mailbox was perhaps the most dangerous thing in my life. First of all, it delivered without fail for the last three Sundays, a day on which no mail should be delivered, a blank envelope with nothing in it. Just a blasted red seal that stained my fingers every time I touched the damn thing. Secondly, my mailbox refused to deliver me the thing I needed most, my acceptance letter. My mailbox was evil, there was no other explanation for these strange occurrences.

"Yeah and your doll that you use to love when you were five is going to kill you," I mutter to myself, scrubbing the running water over the red stain on my thumb.

Three times and I hadn't yet mastered the art of avoiding the seal. What kind of hell had I dished out to someone to deserve this kind of sophisticated prank? Naomi had claimed it was just some sad loser that was bored on Sundays. Maybe she was right, then again Naomi didn't have to worry about getting her fingers covered in sticky red paint, and she didn't have to wait around for an acceptance letter, she had five.

I shut the water off, leaning my head against the sink in frustration. What I wouldn't give to be five and heading off to summer camp right now. That was a lie of course, I happened to like being eighteen. Despite the numerous worries and responsibilities that came with it. I place my hands on my temples, giving them a gentle massage.

"Worries and responsibilities carry greater rewards than those you get from not having them," I mutter into the silence, repeating the words my dad in my opinion was far too fond of.

It was a wonder to me that I wanted to grow up, when my dad could make a career out of telling scary stories about adulthood. Or about how irresponsible Peter Pan was for making the lost boys believe they didn't have to grow up. Or by saying that by giving Cinderella a fairy godmother, it was teaching kids to always rely on someone else. It was safe to say Disney movies had been butchered for me since childhood. I almost laughed, maybe that was why I was so eager to grow up, because my dad had taken away any appeal that childhood used to carry.

After making some pretty questionable macaroni and cheese and wishing, against my better nature, that my mum and little brother were here, I padded upstairs to bed.

A noise I couldn't quite place woke me up in the early hours of morning. My room was pitch black, and as I pulled back the covers a cool breeze hit me. I rubbed my bare shoulders, as goose bumps began forming on my skin. I hadn't shut the window. I frowned that wasn't like me, I was sure I had. My heartbeat seemed to increase at the sudden realization. I shake my head, my memory at three o clock in the morning was clearly questionable, I had to have left it open. Padding over to the open window, I take a second to stare out at the stars. My eyes crossed to the curtains, wondering also how I neglected to close them. I never did that. This wasn't some horror movie I decided, I just must have been extra tired. Pulling on the handles I slammed the window shut, drawing the curtains as I smile in satisfaction.

"No murderous villain, just my own forgetfulness," I say in a half-hearted attempt to convince myself I had nothing to fear.

If I could even judge what happened next, its that I had no memory of making it back to the bed, yet everything went black all the same.

My mind took a surprisingly long time to wake up the next morning. It was odd really, everything felt so pleasant. Pleasant was probably the wrong way to describe it, I'll elaborate. The sunken part of my mattress that always annoyed me as I woke up, I couldn't feel. My neck that usually ached as a result of my stubborn refusal to get rid of a pillow, felt fine. My eyes twitched under the gentle glow of the rising sun, wait that wasn't right. Now that I let my mind ponder it, my mattress felt too hard as if I wasn't sleeping on a mattress at all. My brown eyes shot open, registering my surroundings in one horror filled glance. There was no mattress because there was no bed, no room, no town, just jungle. I felt panic bubble up inside me, my mind shooting forth various scenarios of my own death. It wasn't until I felt two pair of hands grab my arms and pull me up, that I decided reaction would serve me better than trying to judge the future.

"Let me go," I scream, trying desperately to free my arms from the iron grip of the two hooded boys dragging me.

Hooded boys, that fact if anything terrified me more.

"Told you we should have tied her," one of them comments to the other, his voice sounding childlike.

What business did a child have in kidnapping someone?

The other snorts, "Look at her she's tiny, do you really want to say we had to tie her?" he questions.

I bristle in annoyance still pulling at my arms, my height or body structure was nothing for them to make fun of.

The first boy hums in agreement, "Especially since he'll be furious that the shadow took the wrong sibling again."

I stop fighting realizing that they were insane. There was no other explanation to this scenario.

Maybe I had been wrong, maybe my mailbox had never been the most dangerous thing in my life, maybe there had been something far more sinister all along.