Alice in Wonderland
"His eyes were red and he stared at me with hunger. I screamed as
loud as I could, begging for someone to find me. To help me. 'It's only you
and I now.' James whispered, licking his lips. I cringed as the pain began."
Alice's story from childhood to the moment she kissed Jasper. It's been a recurring story in my mind and I needed to get it down. Read and Enjoy. Banner is to come by next chapter.
Hey Guys. Here’s a new story for you all. Don’t worry, I shall not forget about What We Become. I’m one story short, and felt I needed to get this one out. I’ve been wanting to write a story from Alice’s perspective for quite some time. I hope this story doesn’t disappoint. Especially you Colin, because I know you like to tell me what you think of my stories. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, although you get mean sometimes. *sniff* I don’t know if I’ll be blogging this story or not, so tell me if I should. If you are a newcomer, check out my blog. The link is on my profile. Enjoy this story. If you think I should continue as she ages, tell me. Or if you think I should skip from childhood to asylum, let me know too.
2. Chapter 2: Go Back to Sleep, Mary
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Chapter 2: Go to sleep, Mary
At nine years old, there is little that a child does not know about life. In general, a child can understand the difference between right and wrong. He or she is usually able to decipher the meaning of childhood, whether it be to play and meet friends, or to stay at home with themselves. At an early age, the ability of belief is permanent in one’s mind. This belief in a high power, God, or just a belief in a parents love. It’s the parents love that keeps a child happy. A child without love, can never reach its true potential, because he or she will always wonder what they could have had. If only they knew love. Love is never taught to a child. Instead it is born with them. Some may say that a new born babe has no idea of love, but there are others that swear against that. I would be one of them.
At birth, a baby will know the voice of his or her mother and father. And they feel affection for them-- More than that, they love them. Maybe even before they left the safety of their mother’s womb. As children grow up and are not given that love back to them, their feelings may change. They may seek love from an outside source, say a church or another family member, but others just seek a place where they can belong. I never looked for anything, because my family loved me back, and I thought they always would. Especially my father. It’s amazing how mistaken you can be sometimes.
The Christmas incident was forgotten quickly, and my father never raised a hard hand. It would seem as if things went back to normal, but in my innocence, I had a feeling that I was different. That school would change. That I wouldn’t be able to control anything at all. I was the freak. There was proof of it.
The year did pass quickly. And with it came summer. I never earned any friends at school other than Cynthia, so it was a quiet summer. To begin with. There were many things do to in the city. We could go for walks in the many different parks, sometimes mother would come along if she was feeling well enough. She had almost died during childbirth. My brother was born a month too soon and a pound too big. My mother was unable to give birth to him naturally, so she had to have surgery at the hospital. She lost a lot of blood that night; she lost our brother too. She never named him. And after the first week of mourning, the entire world went on as if nothing happened. As if there never was a boy born into the Brandon family. My mother never mentioned him again, but I saw the sadness in her eyes. The sadness of losing a child. It got worse at the end of the summer.
I think my sister went crazy after the birth incident. She wasn’t the same at all. And not for the better. Liza was never the perfect sister to me, but as a child I thought she loved me. She didn’t love anyone that summer. I never knew what happened to her that made her this way; no one did. But that wasn’t the problem. It was the consequences of how she felt that haunted me for many years after.
I still saw things, but no longer did I tell people. Not that they would listen anyway. I wanted to tell my father the truth. Would he believe me? If he did, what would he do to me? I wished and hoped he would, but something held me back. There did come a point that summer when I needed to tell someone.
At the end of August, my life went from guessing things and having them coincidently coming true to something completely and terrifically different. Something scary. I was sitting on the window seat of the attic, I still saw this place as safe back then, and watched from the window as Cynthia and Jeffery played in the bushes outside. I had been sick that morning and my mother had made me stay inside that day. In mere seconds, the sky turned grey and I could almost feel a chill in the air. It began to rain heavily, growing dark and murderous. I saw a light brighten up the doorway downstairs and then it went out. Liza, barely wearing a jacket in this cold walked across the back lawn and climbed over the fence. She disappeared into the trees.
I took in a long breath and blinked my eyes. Everything was gone. As quickly as the rain came, it had also vanished. It confused me that the weather would act so. And Cynthia and Jeffery were not even wet from the rain as they continued to play in the yard. I stood up and left the attic, climbing down the stairs. As I walked past Liza’s bedroom, I stopped. I could hear her sniffles from outside the door. I turned the glass doorknob and pushed on the wooden door. It was black as black in there. A chill ran down my spine as I looked around.
“Liza?” I asked. The sniffles softened until they stopped. “Are you crying Liza?” I took a step into the room. There was little light in the hall, so it was hard for me to see what was going on in the room.
“Leave me alone.” Liza whispered.
“Why?” I reached through the room until I could see the string hanging from the ceiling. I pulled on it, and the light bulb turned on engulfing the room in a hazy white light. Liza was in the corner with her black curls, the same as mine, pulled over her shoulders and curtaining her face. I looked down at her sleeves, she was covering her hands. I noticed how pale her face was from the tears that shone on her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Liza?” I whispered. She looked up at me and frowned. Then I saw the kitchen knife hidden in her lap, half covered from a fold in her dress. My eyes darted back to her face. She was looking down at her hands. I followed her gaze. Slowly she pulled her arms straight out and let her palms point towards the ceiling. They were red. I knew it was blood.
“If you don’t tell my secret, I’ll keep one of yours.” She whispered. I wanted to cry too, but instead I went and closed her door and came back to sit in front of her. I grabbed a wash cloth off her table and began wiping the blood off her hands.
“I know things.” I whispered. She didn’t look up at me, but she rolled her eyes.
“What kind of things?” She whispered back, playing along.
“Things that will happen.”
“Like what you got for Christmas last year?” I didn’t know if she believed me or if she was mocking me, but she was the only one I knew wouldn’t tell anyone.
“Yes, like Christmas. I don’t really see things, I just know when something is going to happen.”
“I don’ know. I just do.”
“Do you know what Cynthia is going to look like when she grows up?”
“I can’t make myself know, I just do. It’s hard, Liza. Should I tell Pap?”
“No. You can’t tell anyone but me. And you have to keep my secret. Okay? We’ll be special sisters.”
“Okay.” I finished with her hands and went to get bandages. She waited for me and I helped her. They would heal quickly. Mother and Father wouldn’t notice. “Why do you do this?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It makes me feel better.”
“Because sometimes I get mad at the world. At this family, at myself.”
“Will you tell Mother?”
I didn’t tell anyone, and I believed she told no one. So life went on as it was. We didn’t become special sisters. In fact, Liza ignored me more than ever. I didn’t take anything about that though. It was a week later as I was swinging on the tire in the back yard that I heard the thunder coming from somewhere far off.
“Mary, come inside before the rain comes.” I heard my mother from inside. I pretended not to hear, scraping my freshly polished shoe on the ground beneath me. The sides of the tires were digging into my thigh, but I paid no mind. I knew mother would be angry that I had gotten dust all over my white church dress. I held the tire closer to my chest and let the wind slowly carry me back and forth. “Now, Mary.” My mother was on the back steps now. I looked up and she motioned with her hand, an annoyed look on her face. I drudged up the stairs and past her. She sighed and began lightly beating my dress to free the dust. “What am I going to do with you.”
I stopped at the entrance to the sitting room, but I couldn’t see anything. Everything went black. I screamed and fell to my knees.
“Mary!?” I heard my mother and she was pulling me somewhere. But all I could see was Liza. In the rain, in the city, lying on the ground against a building. There was blood coming out of her mouth and eyes this time, pooling around her neck and across the cement. I sucked in a breath of air and everything went back into focus. I was in mother’s lap as she sat on the sofa in the sitting room. She was looking down at me with worried eyes.
“Mother?” I whispered. She relaxed and hugged me close.
“You just passed out, darling. That’s all. Don’t cry.”
“I dreamed while I was asleep.”
“What’s wrong?” Liza’s voice said from the doorway. I looked up at her and gasped. I pulled out of my mother’s arms and hugged my sister. She returned the embrace.
“You’re alive.” I murmured into her dress as more tears fell down my cheeks.
“Obviously.” She whispered back.
The rain came quickly, and with it came darkness. Usually when it rained I found comfort in the attic, and that was where I went. I sat with my eyes closed listening to the rain as it fell on the roof, to the thunder and lightning as it hit, and to the wind hitting the sidings of our house. Randomly, I looked down and saw the light appear downstairs. It disappeared and then I saw the figure of my sister run across the lawn. She was gone quickly. I knew I had to follow her. I stood up and ran into my sisters room, shaking her awake. She looked up at me and opened her blanket for me to crawl in.
“No. I need you to come out with me.”
“Out? It’s after bedtime, Mary. Go to sleep.”
“No. Liza left. She’s gone to kill herself.” I began to shake her again as her eyes drooped. She mumbled something about it being just a dream. Then she rolled away. I moaned but knew waking her again was useless. I turned and quietly made my way across the front foyer. I could hear my parents talking by candle light in the kitchen. They didn’t hear me as I grabbed my coat and walked onto the back porch. I opened the door and the wind blew my hair into my face. I held down a cough. And pushed myself into the rain. I didn’t know if mother or father heard anything, so I quickly ran in the same direction in which Liza had walked not so long ago. I would follow her and stop her from doing whatever she had planned. I would save her.