"Mother," Diana announced to her mother, Mary . "I can't take it anymore. Michael and Ryan only ever play with Her, that stupid girl you just had to bring back from the orphanage. She tells them of faeries, elves, and magic lands in the sky! It's crazy!"
"Diana, I think you are blowing this way out of proportion. There is nothing wrong with them playing. You are fifteen now. Maybe it's time you grow up." Mrs. Barry turned back her writing. She was writing to her sister, Hanna.
"Father?" She turned helplessly to her father who had never loved her, but had some how found the capacity in himself to love... Her, that damned orphan.
"Mm." He said tonelessly. He continued to read the paper.
Diana rolled her eyes and stormed out of the living room and up into the nursery. She looked at her siblings, twelve year-old Michael and the nine year-old Ryan. Both of them were sitting, eagerly looking at Her.
"And then," She was saying. "The King swooped down and-" she stiffened and turned around. "Oh," she glowered at Diana and turned her pixie-like face back to the boys. "The story will have to finished tomorrow."
The boys moaned. "Oh, come on! We were just getting to the good part."
Diana rolled her eyes and hissed. "And into bed, all three of you." The boys didn't dare defy her when she was in one of her moods. They skulked over to their beds and climbed into them, all the toys from the day raining onto the floor.
The orphan stayed out. She smiled at Diana. "I don't think I will, thank you."
"What?" Diana asked, her voice dangerously low.
"I. Won't." The orphan said defiantly. "Will not. Period." She smirked.
Diana glared at her. "Fine, then. See if I care. But Fiona and Lawrence will yell at you."
"No. They won't. Mummy and Daddy love me. They hate you." She smirked.
Diana was going to kill her. She hated everything about the orphan from her white hair to her green eyes. Diana shook it off and climbed into her own bed.
The little girl walked over the window and looked out into the night. Diana turned out her light. The room was plunged into darkness but the orphan was illuminated in the window. The sky outside was dark, but Diana could see her. Diana watched her long after Michael and Ryan had started snoring. The hours ticked

The orphan looked over her shoulder and smiled, her teeth sharp. The light from the window, illuminating her wicked smile.
"Heave away, heave away," she sang with the voice of an angel, breaking the cold silence. "They're bound for the dark realms of Unseelie." She looked back over her shoulder and smirked. Her little night gown fluttered around her.
Then a boy flew in the window. The orphan smiled. "Hello, Peter," she said softly.
He soared up into the air, and then down, hovering over the room. Diana was petrified. She couldn't move.
The orphan pointed at the bed where Ryan slept, curled around his stuffed rabbit. Peter floated over the boy. Light began to come from his fingers, yellow, sweet light. Ryan rose up from his bed. The light died. Peter held the little boy. There was another flash of light, and Ryan disappeared.
The orphan pointed at Diana and Michael's beds.
Peter took out a small hunting knife. He looked exactly like the little girl, except he was dressed in leaves. Peter reached down and hit Diana with the scabard of his knife.
Diana saw no more.
Peter worked quickly. Michael was next.
The walls were painted red with blood. It smeared unevenly over the wallpaper of little children with their toys and pets.
The orphan smiled at him. "Let's go. Our blood-tithe is paid." She and Peter jumped out into the night. Their bodies caught the breeze. They were gone before dawn, and before the parents discovered that their children were dead.

Diana was flying over clouds and water. She looked up and saw the beautiful island ahead, green trees and the ship, the Jolly Roger. There was a light, then the orphans' voice said, "Welcome to Neverland, Diana, where everything is perfect, and you'll never grow old." Michael and Ryan were beside her, and the weird boy, Peter.