Peter Pan, Mad Hatter

Prologue

When I was born, the doctor knew there was something wrong with me.

Maybe it's because cause I squirmed way to much, or I didn't cry.

Either way, they already knew, so they weren't that shocked...

...just a bit taken aback.

So are people when they first meet me. Why do you think I don't have people over?

I have a disease—that one rare disease—that makes me completely numb toward pain. You can try, but it won't work. People do a great ass job in reminding me I have it too, despite the fact they can't even say the name.

If it wasn't bad enough, last year, when I was 15 they diagnosed me with schizophrenia. People think that I I

My mother— she was better, but not much better. She never to care of me—affluenza I guess. She would usually just leave me with my dad and drown her sorrows in alcohol and drugs, but at least she never hurt me.

On purpose.

But six months ago my dad killed himself. And my mom has been making it pretty clear that she thinks it's my fault. I think it's because his suicide note said "Peter did this to me".

Pretty specific if you ask me.

My getaway my group. My friends, John, Michael, Scott, Ken, Adam, Christian, Meadow, and my brother, Denver. They call us the Lost Boys. We meet in the woods and discuss the ways that we would "cleanse" the world of all evil.