The Universe's Mixer

His only phone call had gone to Hannibal. Later, there came a lawyer, shortly after Enigma was released. The lawyer, he'd learned, was hired by his assistant, Mike Deal, not by Hannibal. It was curious. Another week went by, filled by chafing idle hours and punctuated by hearings, then another with the same. In the end, Erik was handed his effects, a receipt for the charges he'd incurred, and waved out of the station. He went home first, his car waiting for him as he stepped onto the street. Home - the one place where he could love unconditionally, and create with the freedom he'd always yearned after. Home - the Opera House, crafted with his design and his intent in mind.

The preparations for his reworking of La Mer were in full effect, The Death of Don Juan having wrapped earlier in the week. He regretted that he had not been there to see it close. He showered quickly and pulled one of the suits he kept at the Opera. It was mid-day, and everyone involved in La Mer should be rehearsing. He walked the Opera, taking in the work being done, stopping to correct where it was needed. Hannibal was strangely missing. It was not like the young man to skip crucial moments within the nascent stages of a production like this.

His path finally led him to his office, where he sat behind his desk and pulled on the black gloves that shielded him from the rest of the world. He stared down at the blackness, stared at the wood grain in its gleaming polish under those hands of his, and let out a deep breath. He'd been caged before. He'd been in prisons before. He'd been in far worse situations than the last month behind him. But he'd forgotten. He'd forgotten what it was to lose his autonomy, his freedom to write or play, and he'd forgotten what it was to be at the mercy of others. Slowly, he set his head in his hands and shut his eyes. The rising fury, the same emotion he'd suppressed violently within the bars of his cell, began its unrelenting climb. The hatred for humanity came with it. His fingers tightened in his hair. He grit his teeth.

On the long downtown street, the grand facade of the City Opera House glowed with light, hummed with excitement. Across its gleaming marble steps, all manners of beasts and birds and creatures of fantasy and myth climbed to enter the myriad doors. Across the doors, flung wide to the City this night, yards of red velvet lay in rich folds over the curved entrance archways and hung down the sides like blood. Running carpets of a matching color led the revelers into the opera house itself and directed them inside.

The Opera House itself was dressed for the occasion. The foyers, corridors, and adjoining rooms around the grand staircase had been divided into seven distinct 'rooms'. Six of the rooms were decorated and illuminated in a specific color: Blue, purple, green, orange, white, and violet. The last room was decorated in black and illuminated by a scarlet light. In this same room, a grand ebony clock stood, casting a foreboding pall.

Tables lined the back walls of each room, where polished tuxedos created and distributed all manners of cocktails. In the main ballroom - the white room - a standing orchestra played brilliant, glistening notes that carried throughout the opera house and invited all to join in dance. Along the sides, pristine waiters moved in and out carrying silver platters, some with hors d'oeuvres, some with bubbling champagne, some with deep red wine.

At precisely 8:30 p.m., the music turned screeching and sour. The lights dimmed, and from the depths of the black room, that great ebony clock tolled, strangely, on the half hour. From the grand staircase, came a figure dressed head to toe in red and black, with a death's head for a mask. As this figure descended, so too came a sense of dread and doom, and whispers filtered throughout the thrilling crowd:

-- The Red Death! -- Do not touch him! -- He's come for us! --

Just as the figure reached the bottom of the stairs, just as the shiver running through the crowd turned to something approaching panic, a single violin cried out a tense, shrill note, and a bass thrummed slow-building excitement. That figure held up his arms over the crowd, as if to curse them all. At once, from the crowd, came a single lady dressed in white, complete with wings and a halo. She ran to the base of the steps, and at once whipped off the mask and tossed it aside. From a nearby vase, and with an actress' flourish, she pulled a rose and tucked it into his lapel. The Red Death at once became that well known sinner Don Juan. He held out his hand to the single lady in white, that saint and angel who was his only love. And when his Christine was on his arm, the Opera Manager called out -- "Begin!"

At once, the lights crashed up, brighter than ever, and with them, the orchestra broke into vivid notes that dared every guest to forget their troubles and revel in the night.

After all, what was a ball at the Opera House without a little pageantry? The gala was off to a brilliant start, in true dramatic operatic style.

Erik entered the manor as silently as he could manage through the kitchen door. He had no fear of waking his wife, even if she had turned in early. Rather, he was deeply concerned that she might be waiting for him by the main door and throw herself at him the moment she laid eyes on him.

Typically, he didn't avoid his wife's attentions, but tonight he wanted the ability to speak before she could unwittingly damage him even more. His plan, it seemed had worked. As he moved soundlessly through the manor, he listened for her. Of course, she'd be concerned. He'd asked his assistant to call her tonight, once it was clear that the Opera House was too damaged to allow the evening practice to go on. Mike had reported that she was very worried but agreed to stay home until he got there -- and only after Mike told her that Erik was unharmed.

That had been a lie. It wasn't Mike's lie, however; it was Erik's.

Erik started up the stairs toward their shared bedroom suite before finally allowing himself to make enough sound to draw her attention. He deliberately took the steps loudly, though the jarring hurt his side more than he'd want to admit. When he was halfway up the stairs, he stopped and began to ease his shoulders out of his suit jacket.

The downside was, with Annie working so much at Stark Tower, Megan hadn't seen her much lately.

The upside was, Megan had been given a promotion! And responsibility! And the chance to prove that she was more than just a flighty (ha) kid! She took this very seriously.

Well, mostly seriously. She could still have fun while she worked at Fixit. She had her MP3 player plugged in to speakers at the counter to keep the right sort of welcoming atmosphere in the place while she did the morning's inventory, blaring out a Katy Perry song while Megan chimed in every now and then in her enthusiastic and off-key way.

Nothing said welcoming like pop music, Megan decided.

The visit with Enigma, and everything that had transpired afterward, left Erik rawer than he'd expected to be -- and far later in returning to his wife that night. She'd been waiting up for him, he was sure, by the way she'd fallen asleep in their bed. Clearly, she'd been sitting up. The book lying face up in her lap suggested she'd been reading to try to keep herself awake.

He moved soundlessly to the side of the bed and plucked that book from her lap. As soundlessly, he laid the thing on the nightstand beside her, then moved away to change out of his suit and to shower in their expansive bathroom.

When he returned to her again, hair still damp, he found her bright eyes waiting for him. And though it was good... quite good... to see her, he could not smile.

The score for Mr. Northman's private performance was complete. Erik set his quill in its inkwell and leaned back in his chair, working out the cramps in his writing hand as he did. Scattered musical notations littered the desk in front of him. When he found relief from the ache, he finally stood and began to clear the madness away.

While he worked, a chime sounded low in the back of the room - an alert that he'd designed to tell him when the gates to the manor opened. This would be Christine, returned. Excellent. It was past time to talk with her about certain things. She usually sought him out when she returned; it was a quirk he found endearing. But when at last the knock on the door came, it was not from the delicate hand he'd expected.

Ten minutes later, as he dismissed the guards he'd employed to tend to his wife, Erik's face carried a grimness that would have meant murder in years past. The never-ending darkness of the days had brought back to the surface his darker inclinations, and it was more difficult than usual to temper his initial reaction. But he knew that Christine could read his dark side, if he let her see it in his expression. He didn't want to frighten the child. And so, when he dismissed the bodyguards, he gave them instructions to find Christine and bring her to him - in another 10 minutes.

And at last, when he again had mastery of himself, she appeared in the doorway. Her skin was pale and lovely. The mass of curls he so adored was down around her shoulders. Standing from where he'd been leaning against the desk, he offered one glove-covered hand to her - an invitation and command all at once.

Tinker Bell had left the Manor where she was staying with Christine after the woman had asked her to move in. It had been quite a change from the warehouse where Tink had been staying since her arrival in this world with Rufio, her Pan. It was much nicer smelling, lush, and she got to see her best friend in the whol world every day! That was so exciting to her. Tinker Bell had never had a best friend before. Besides Peter and Rufio but they were her Pans and not really so much best friends. She never had a female friend either. Typically women got on her bad side rather quickly, especially when it came to her Pan but Christine had managed to work her way deep into the tiny heart of the pixie and Tink wouldn't have it any other way.

Tink had noticed that the darkness was upon the City and that it hadn't yet let up. It was quite strange. It was throwing off her internal pixie clock. The one that told her when the sun rose it was time to get up and when it set it was time to sleep. Now it seemed the moon was out for good and though she missed the sun terribly there was nothing she, a small pixie, could do about it other than enjoy it. Which is exactly what she planned to do.

The park was Tink's usual haunt, the one place where she never grew tired of being. It was the only place she really, truly felt at home. The grass, though cold most days, welcomed her. The animals called to her, the trees and the sky. It was just like the pixie to revel in the simplest of things nature had to offer. It wasn't the beach, or the cave they used to spend the nights in, or the tree houses that offered them a view of the setting sun but it was closest to Neverland she could get without actually being home. No matter how hard Rufio tried to make the warehouse look like home, it would never really be. She would never see Peter again. She would never hear the tick of the clock within the mouth of the crocodile or the laugh of Captian Hook and Shmee.

This was as close as she could get.

She chased a butterfly slowly as it fluttered lazily through the moist tendrils of grass. Her aura glowed its usual gold as she flew after the butterfly. She was of a good mood and nothing could deter her from her mission of catching the winged creature and playing with it if it would let her.

Wavering upon the unsaddled back of a horse, Beauty returned from that ruin of a place where she'd been captured and held. Arkham Asylum. The stuff of nightmares now.

The drugs forced on her were still running in her system - barbituates, hallucinogens - but by degrees, the terror was fading. She didn't feel safe. But with her face buried in the mane of the horse who carried her, the abstract fear was diminishing. By the time the asphalt led into a City street, Beauty no longer felt the need to scream.

Nothing was right, through her eyes. Buildings wavered. The shield of night obscured her vision for a distance. But the street lights were flickering on, here and there, illuminating the familiar and the safe. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know how to get home. She didn't know if she wanted to be home. Her kidnapper had found her at her bookstore. She wanted nowhere familiar, nowhere unsafe. Was Megan all right? And Errol? It felt to her as if it should be the day, but the night was as deep as midnight. Her mind recalled the long sunset from before her kidnapping... was it related?

Thoughts flickered back and forth, broken in her mind; nothing stayed with her for long. At length, the horse came to a string of restaurants. There, it stopped. Beauty did not have the sense to know to dismount. She simply leaned on the beast's neck and held.

Christine was glad to have the opportunity to leave the manor alone now. As much as she enjoyed spending her time with Erik she couldn't rely on his busy schedule so she could leave. He had informed her of the two men he had hired to follow her. To keep her safe from whatever it is that makes him worry about her. She had no idea just what he worried about so much but there seemed to be no point in asking. Even now she knew it would never, ever happen.

Unless she happened to be very lucky.

She arranged to leave the manor, not entirely sure where she wanted to go yet. A simple walk perhaps. After leaving the town car she told the driver she would be in touch when she wished to return and then turned her back to face the street. Perhaps she could look into some flowers for the garden. Or some other trinkets to make it beautiful. Anything really. Anything to make the day go faster.

Christine walked alone with the two bodyguards near by but not so much that she felt overwhelmed by them. She at least knew they were there if anything happened. As she walked the pavement, she kept her eyes out for somewhere to potentially eat first. When she came across somewhere she had a glance and was intrigued. Perhaps she would try there if she did not find anything else. As she turned to walk further down the street she quickly collided with someone.

"Forgive me!" she said quickly. She had been so focused on the restaurant that she had not looked around before walking.

Christine had been anticipating this day since he offered it. A day where the decisions were left to her. A day out of the manor. She had been kept inside their home continually and as much as she enjoyed spending every waking moment in his presence, or close to him, she knew they both needed to go outside more often. And if she wasn’t allowed to go out alone then it would have to be agreeable to him also. She already worried about her visits to the chapel given it became clear from her first visit that he disliked it. After all, he stayed outside the entire time rather than kneeling with her. But she would not push. She would never push.

She dressed appropriately for a day out, not wanting to wear the wrong footwear or a dress which would not be suitable, and eagerly waited on the moment they could leave. She honestly had thought in detail as to where they could go and her mind had immediately thought of a day by the ocean. But that, somehow, did not seem so grand a day given their home overlooked that particular beauty. So after some inquiries she settled on the Botanical Gardens which were said to be a marvel. Christine, like any woman, had a fondness for flowers and whilst an entire day may not be spent wandering there it would be a start.

Once she had dressed, she settled into one of the comfortable chairs she was happy to find in their room and simply looked out onto the waves she could see from the window. He would let her know when he was prepared to go. After all, he seemed busy working within the ledger she had gifted him and she loved and appreciated his music too much to interrupt him just yet. Though that may change if he, perhaps, takes a little too long.

Everything had seemed almost perfect since her wedding day. Yes, her ring had to be hidden once again but she knew Erik had his reasons even if she wasn't entirely aware of them. She trusted his judgement and if he thought this best for now then she would not argue with him. He knows what is right for her and if this is then very well. Both her engagement and wedding ring will remain on the beautifully delicate chain resting around her neck and lowering to rest under the fabric of her dress.

Though that didn't stop her wearing them when within the manor. The servants knew. She only removed them when in public, which she hadn't been since just before the wedding when she searched for Tinker Bell to request her presence at the ceremony. The rest of the time she had remained in the manor as was common since her accident. Erik preferred it that way.

But she did manage to persuade him to let her attend the chapel as she had been meaning to. Of course, it came with the condition that he accompanied her. So she dressed respectably and left in the car with her husband. Erik did not stay by her however. He simply looked through the chapel doors to see it almost empty save the priest and a few others and then left her to her prayers. She would not push him. She grew up in her faith and, having heard his life, she could understand why he felt uncomfortable in such a situation. At least she knew he waited on her outside and that whatever he felt worried about would not be playing on his mind. Her angel wished to protect her from something and she would let him.

First she requested a confession and once she had spent the time speaking with the priest, the same priest who married her, she found a place near the altar to kneel and to pray. For her father first. Marrying had made her miss her father more than she thought possible but she knew that he would be happy to see her settled and content in her life. But mostly she prayed for Erik. For his healing. For their lives together to be long and happy.

She thanked God for bringing her husband to her to love. To show the kindness he had missed in his life. She renewed her vow to forever love him through everything and anything they faced.

Once she felt satisfied with her prayer she stood to light a candle. She did, however, spare a smile for another in the chapel when she caught their gaze.

The garden had seemed the finest place to stage his wedding. It would have been far more proper to wed his bride in a cathedral, and Erik could not deny that she deserved as much. But neither could he bring himself to set foot inside another church again. The Roman Catholic God, if he dared to exist, had cursed him for all his 38 years with a face that all of humanity hated. No, Erik could not bring himself within 10 feet of a church, except to admire its architecture. And never, ever for a religious occasion. None of these things had he expressed to his Christine.

But a proper Roman Catholic wedding mass his wife would have, and he had seen to that much. Every detail was in its proper place - up to the small choir and piano and orchestral backing, all managed discretely through the church from which he'd drawn the services of the priest himself. Erik expected the mass to be an arduous affair, with only the music to save him... but as the liturgy came to a close, Erik could only find himself thinking how wrong it was that Christine consent to such a union - and how selfish it was for him to allow her. No. More than selfish. He would never allow her to be free of him ever again. It still baffled him that she seemed perfectly amenable to these chains.

Under the mid-morning sunshine, Erik's skin seemed paler than usual. His recent recuperation had left the composer thinner than usual, but the cut of his tuxedo concealed it. It was possible, however, that the paleness of his skin had nothing to do with his recent illness. The priest's voice cut into his thoughts, then, and Erik swallowed.

"---by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity. And so, in the presence of the Church, I ask you to state your intentions.

"Erik and Christine, have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

Erik was getting better. A lot better than before and she really was happy to hear that. Incredibly happy. For now that meant she would have the chance to finally become his wife once the arrangements were finalised. But she had been allowed one person to stand by her, given they wished to marry in secret, and the only person she could think of had been Tinker Bell. Bruce and Christian she had been friendly with but it did not seem right having a man stand by her that wasn't Erik, even if he would be on the other side.

And Enigma? Well although they had become friendlier Christine wasn't sure if she wanted her there.

So she went to the park, knowing her friend would be there. As she approached the area she knew to meet her she could hardly contain her happiness.

"Tinker Bell?" she called out, glancing around.

Moonlight through the shades zebraed silver across the bed that held the opera manager hostage. It was late, and his thoughts broke on thready bouts of sleep. Never in his life had he slept so much. The drugs. The weakness. His doctor's strict orders. All of these things overturned years of conditioning for two to three hours of sleep a night. These days, he slept most of the day. And loathed it. There was so much to do, so much he had left behind in order to honor his promise to his dear doctor.

Already, he felt stronger than he had in months. The thready strangeness of his heart had steadied since the surgery. But the drugs scattered his mind to places he wouldn't have gone. During the darkest parts of the night, he found himself wandering the halls of his memory, hanging between sleep and wakefulness. Tonight, he walked the cramped and dusty passageways he'd built into the Shah's palace, viewing empty rooms with floors coated in blood. The hatred he felt for humanity bubbled closer to the surface, on nights like these. And with it, he felt more keenly the weight of his own murderous acts. Those long years in Persia... those rosy hours...

Through the coppery scent of travesty and horror, a sweet fragrance slid gently - a mist that would not be denied, would not go away, but instead quietly insisted on existence. He turned from those confined marble passageways and again found himself in his bedroom in the City... the moonlight throwing its stripes across the velvet coverlet... a presence close by, pressing close... and that fragrance, still drifting over him: violets in the springtime night.

"Mm," he murmured. A hand restlessly lifted toward the shape close by his bedside. "There you are."

After weeks of practice and fine-tuning, the newest performance opened at the City Opera House. Unlike before, the star diva was Enigma, in the title role. Another bright point of the evening came from the inventive interpretation of the classical score from Dr. Hannibal Lecter, on piano.

Again, Opening Night came with its victory gala at the end of the performance. Again, the featured stars invited special guests, and again, the City Opera provided complimentary tickets to one Ms. Lois Lane and the City Mayor (plus 1, naturally). But the performance and gala were also open to all. And as the performance came to a close, the gala sprung to life downstairs in the Grand Foyer.

Christine was a little unsure about leaving the manor since her strange accident but she could not stay cooped up for much longer. Mostly because she needed the fresh air. She wouldn’t go too far from the manor, though. Her arm still ached from time to time and having it in the cast made some tasks difficult. Especially given it was the hand she used most. And that was one of the main reasons she didn’t stray too far and why she didn’t walk too far from her home. She wanted to be close by in case she felt in pain again.

First stop for her turned out to be a small chocolate shop. She could treat herself. Like most women she had a sweet tooth but would not eat the treats in abundance. She was strict enough on herself not to do so after all. She had to remain healthy and she had heard that eating too many of the sweet treats would go against that. But a few from a box on occasion wouldn’t do her any harm.

Next she found a small restaurant, a diner as she had been told, she decided perhaps she could spend some time in there. It would split up the time she spent outside and keep her occupied. Though she knew she would eat something simple and then head back to the manor. But when it came to the door, which she had to pull open, she had a slight problem. The box was in one hand and with her other in the cast she wasn’t really able to do so herself. Glancing around, she tried to see if she could find someone to help her.

[ooc: Backdated to before Enigma thread. Apologies for taking so long to put this up]

As much as Christine knew she should practice with Erik she liked to come and sing within the Opera House whenever she had a moment. It gave her a chance to rehearse in the proper surroundings. Sing with the acoustics just right. After all, how would she know how her voice sounded if she did not practice where it would be mostly put to use? If she would be able to carry each note efficiently. Lucky for her, she was allowed in and out of the Opera House whenever she wished so she did not have to request or set a time in advance. She had been able to arrive when she wanted to and go from there.

She was not sure how long she had spent within the beautiful building but soon it was time to leave. Had she not noticed she would have easily spent all night there. At least until someone came to tell her she had to leave so they could lock up. But it seemed she did not have to worry about that sort of thing as she was ready to go before they requested. Long before they had to anyway. She took a fair drink of water then left the room she had been practising in.

Once she arrived into the main entrance area she spotted a man alone, other than a few people walking around of course. The woman meant to hold place at the box office seemed otherwise engaged so Christine took it upon herself to welcome him. “Is everything okay, Sir?"

[ooc: Backdated to before the Enigma thread]

Although Christine did not need to rehearse as much as she did as Violetta she still liked to attend and watch if she could. Why not? Everything about the theatre and opera called to her and always would. She was born for this kind of thing. As much as she was not a diva, and would not like to ever become one, she knew the stage would always call for her. Music coursed through her veins and she knew that was not going to change.

Neither was her love of dancing.

Although she had her own dancing studio within the manor now she still liked to watch the ballet mistress at work. It gave her the chance to pick up the routine or some ideas to work on during her own personal practices. After all, it had all been arranged for her to sit in on dance rehearsals whenever she wished though she made sure to warn her in advance. After changing out of her dance clothes, she left her dressing room and slung her rather large bag over her shoulder.

She should call for help. Michael would probably bring the car from wherever it was if she asked but she didn't see why she should bother him. It wouldn't take too long to walk to the manor and she had walked to the Opera House after all. True, that was not after dancing but she was fit enough that it didn't bother her too much.

Enigma’s eyes narrowed as she stared at her rival and annoyance, watching as Christine headed for the stairs. Her brilliant mind whirled, calculating angles and positions before a grin curled over her lips, the last sight many people had seen before they died.

“Oh Christine!” Enigma called cheerily, skipping down the stairs towards the woman, the golden rod in her hand extending into the heavy cane. Just a few...more...steps...

As Christine turned, she swung the cane towards her temple, intending to send her flying straight back and hopefully break the little bitch’s neck. After the hit connected, she dropped the cane into the shadows, knowing she could retrieve it later, but since everyone had seen her walking with it...she couldn't just keep it around.

She grinned, before reaching out to grab the woman, screaming, but having timed it so she just missed, watching as Christine fell, a wicked grin on her lips.

What was this place? She knew what a city was, or at least thought she knew, but this was unlike anything her eyes had ever laid upon. She had been with Peter many times to Earth, where he would go to the house of the Darlings, take Wendy and her brothers back to their home in Neverland, and have adventures. Sometimes Nana, thier dog and house keeper, came as well. Sometimes it was just she and Peter, and those were the times she cherished the most. She remembered the time that they went to fight the pirates, and Captian Hook was holding her for bait, and Peter came to save her! Oh Peter! Her heart swelled with the mere thought of Peter Pan, however he had betrayed her. He had taken her for granted, then run off to Earth to be with Wendy, and his had to grow up and forget everything. Peter had even forgotten that she loved him. Sure she was only three inches tall, but pixies have hearts too, and they break. Especially if the love of thier life forgets about them, and runs of with another woman. A stupid one at that. Oh she couldn't stand Wendy! She had wished many times for the girl to have an accident, and there had been times that Tink had convinced the Lost Boys to shoot arrows at Wendy as she flew, or had pushed her into the lagoon for the mermaids to drown. That always brought a smile to Tinks pretty little face. The fact that Peter had left Neverland for good had just about killed Tinker Bell. She had been in her little house, curled up in her little bed, waiting for the darkness to take her. Pixies have a very short lifespan, like most small winged creatures and bein broken hearted didn't help.

But she was here, and very confused. After fluttering around the streets, lonely and confused, Tinker Bell settled down on the arm of a wooden bench in the park, her white dress, the shroud she was going to wear for her final journey to the Garden, fluttering around her tiny, curvy frame. She had put her face in her hands, palms cupping her jaw, fingers splayed over her eyes, releasing large, exaggerated sobs. She crossed one of her legs over the other, wings fluttering sadly. Her whole body glowed, and she was a small glowing ball of gold against the darkness. Everywhere she moved she left gold pixie dust, though it didn't have anything to grasp onto, so it faded simply away. She was aware that she was alone, and though it was scary, she could only feel sad at the moment. Pixies could only feel one emotion at a time, so sometimes her emotions could get a little exaggerated and take her over.

She sniffled, pulling her face out of her hands, setting her chin in her palm, and her elbow against her knee, large wet years still spilling over the lower rim of her eyelids, leaving tiny streaks on her cheeks. She sighed, looking around at the very large park, trying to find somewhere that might look remotely comfortable to live. She didn't see any bird houses, or any trees that might have vacant holes in them. She was a tiny little woman in a big persons world, and she was all alone.

She opened her mouth for a moment, saying something to herself, a series of small tinkles erupting into the night instead of words. The voice of the pixie was too high pitched for humans, except for a certain few that could learn to hear it, but she had nobody here to translate. Peter could understand her, the Lost Boys too, and she missed them terribly. She missed the pirates, the Indians, the Lost Boys, and even the tickin crocodile. She hated the mermaids and tiger lily, but she made exceptions for them when they were being mean to Wendy. But they wouldn't do that anymore.

Why her? She didn't know. She wiped her eyes with her hands, and sat there by herself, not knowin what she was going to do. It was a big world out there, and she was so little, and this was so different to her. She was now all alone.