Her Murky Past
"I feel strangely anxious tonight. Something is going to happen. I can feel the static in the air. I am afraid and excited at the same time. Perhaps, just maybe, my blonde knight will save me from this terrible place. My mind somewhat at ease, I lay down to dream of my fair skinned angel. Just as I begin to drift off, I am jarred awake by a vision. This is not a normal daydream, I can tell. I watch in confusion, what is to come..."
I do not own any of the recognized characters. They are all property of Stephenie Meyers! I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of what happened before the fact!
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Chapter 1: Visions
Chills run down my spine as I sit in my secluded corner. A darkness blacker than black creeps up, teasing and taunting me. It is too cold in this room, this cell. I close my eyes, afraid to venture out into its territory.Fuzzy images appear, once again, in front of my closed eyelids. A face, blurry but obviously beautiful, stares deep into my soul. I see him more often these days. His familiar presence in my mind is an island of refuge in an ocean of hopelessness. His face is made of unbreakable porcelain, whiter than the purest snow. He has long blonde hair that blows gently in the wind.
"Alice, come to me. Follow me Alice." He smiles at me, beackoning me to follow him. I don't know who he is, but I will soon. His sparkly face disappears, as it often does, and leaves me once again alone, all alone.
Time has almost no meaning here anymore. There are no calendars or clocks with which to mark the passng days. Mother's visits have stopped completely. She has given up on me. I barely remember the last time she and Cynthia were here.
"Noooo! Please, don't make me go in there! I'm better I promise" someone screams down the hall.
What a jolt of reality. Life in an asylum isn't a peaceful one. In the middle of the night, people moan, scream, and cry out in anguish. Sleep does not exist for me, or anybody else, anymore. I think that people are afraid to sleep because they fear what they dream. I am the opposite. I am more afraid when I am awake.
I feel like someone is watching me, even while I sit in my cell, alone. I can sense their his eyes watching me, waiting for something to happen. I'm not really alone. All I can do is sit and try, unsuccessfully, to sleep. My dreams are my only comfort now.
My visions have gotten much stronger lately. They are more vivid and last exceptionally longer than before. My memory of them has improved as well. It's almost as if I can control when I see them now, which helps my case here in the asylum. The people here, the doctors, they act as if we aren't alive; as if we are not real, just toys that are broken. When they can't fix us they let us live out a wasted life in solitude.
There is one doctor, however, who is different from all of the rest. I do not know his name, so I just call him Doctor. Unlike the other faceless physicians, Doctor has a presence that commands your attention. His face is flawless, as well as the rest of his body. His accent is different than anybody else's. It sounds like French, but with a hint of Cockney perhaps? I can't decide. Whatever it may be, his is the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my 17 years. Except for my dream boy, of course. Doctor has curly brown locks, a shocking contrast to his blinding white skin, that ask to be played with. I am tempted every once in a while to reach up and twirl a strand, but that would be inappropriate. I have to be on my best behavior.
Like most doctors, his hands are cold, like ice, and hard, but he is more gentle and softer than the others. I see him more often these days. He must've taken over my file. When he examines me I feel strangely at ease, unlike with the others. It is as if he and I, two completely different people, are the same somehow. Like we have a hidden connection. Something about him feels dangerous, not right, but I am always calm. He makes me feel calm.
I feel strangely anxious tonight. Something is going to happen. I can feel the static in the air. I am afraid and excited at the same time. Perhaps, just maybe, my blonde knight will save me from this terrible place. My mind somewhat at ease, I lay down to dream of my fair skinned angel. Just as I begin to drift off, I am jarred awake by a vision. This is not a normal daydream, I can tell. I watch in confusion, what is to come...
"Alice! Alice, come with me..." his satin voice begs. "Follow me."
I can't see anything but shapes and images, burning my eyes. Fuzzy lines connected by color and sound float around in front of me. An oval, no a face makes itself somewhat clearer. It smiles.
"Come to me Alice, follow me..." he whispers seductively.
"I'm coming, I'm coming my Prince!" I run harder than I ever have before. "I'm coming, I'm coming James!"
"That's right Alice, come to me. Follow me..."
I run faster and faster, but the harder I run, the further ahead of me he gets. My alabaster Prince is nowhere near me. I am alone in the woods, alone.
"James! James, where are you?" I scream out.
"Turn around Alice..." he snarled. His voice, still like satin, but not near as inviting.
I turn around slowly, praying silently that I am wrong. That I am asleep.
His eyes are blacker than a shadow as he launches forward to -
"Alice! Alice, wake up!"