Disclaimer!!!! This is NOT my story. This is a story written by one of my best friends and if you like her work (I do!), you can visit her page at Fiction Press (pretty much another version of this exact site, if you didn't know). Her user name is Remember the Strawberries, but you can review or PM on here and I'll be sure to pass it on!
Thanks! ~ AngelWatch
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight - If I were Stephenie Meyer, I wouldn't be posting stuff on this site, I would be going out and publishing it, dangit!
Hiya. Yay: first story thing, something I did for an LA tutor. Bladybla. I don't really know what else to say. Yes, it's short, and I usually tend to write longer things than this (not that you would know that), but there's something about this story that I really like, despite it's...humble beginnnings. This story may come off as a bit odd, which is fine. Hopefully it's not too out there. Apologies in advance for terrible writing skills, not using spellcheck properly, etc.
WARNING: Abuse of italics, overdose of flashbacks, and a whole lot of vagueness. Enjoy. :)
Say Alice
There she lay: crumpled, like a piece of glass, utterly inanimate, save for the occasional shudder. Her thin, fragile figure was in an embrace of blankets and quilts, though they did nothing to sooth the illness that was steadily contaminating her. Almost-midnight waves of hair, usually brushed by a worried visitor, pretended to be feathers in a collage of which her face was the canvas. Maybe the girl was beautiful: the lips were a bit too thin, her complexion skeptically lifeless, and starvation had taken its toll. The journey towards recovery would be arduous and trying, but if there was one thing he still had faith in, it was hope.
Young love was oh so sweet and pathetic, the counterman mused as the child's only visitor came in, as he always did when it was raining. Even worse, it was inevitable, inscribed into time like a permanent tattoo.
"Always in the rain," he commented absently as the young man passed. He grinned in a wolfish manner, not bothering to hang his damp coat on the abandoned coat rack, or to look at the man, for that matter. "Someday, I will get you an umbrella."
He chuckled, somehow deeply amused by the old man's chiding. "I'm sure you would. Especially if it was on sale and had little puppies on it."
A snort from the counterman, and down the hallway the visitor went.
* * *
The young man meandered down the ridiculously long hallway, immersing himself in memories. His footsteps echoed down the deserted path, leaving behind a flock of mud and footprints. With the echoing steps came the echoes of thoughts…memories. His feet imitated the pendulum of a grandfather clock as they clopped against the whitewashed floor.
She looked so…fragile. One false move could very well incinerate her, ashes falling into oblivion. Something about her was so doleful, hopeless. Was it the bone attempting to jut out from her wrist? The hollowed face? He decided that it was the eyes – the way they could swallow something up like a black hole.
What was he even doing here? This was where they put the crazy people, the spasmodic twits. He had fish to feed and a life to get back to. There was no time to drop into random creepy buildings and say "hi". But he couldn't.
How could he leave that expectant face and just abandon it? She was such an innocent little thing. Maybe the fish could live for another five minutes without eating.
"Hey." He walked towards her and grinned at the girl's terrorized face. Aww, how sweet. He was intimidating.
Hesitation, and then an utterance. "Neh?"
"You sure don't talk much, hm? What's your name?"
"I…don't." The words were almost nonexistent, and he pressed his ear closer towards her mouth. Her voice was warm and lingered against his earlobe.
"Come on, you have to have a name."
"No." Her faint breath danced against the air. She fidgeted with the sheets in a casual manner, keeping her eyes on her lap.
Still, eye contact or no eye contact, they were conversing, which was always a start. "Alright then, why don't I give you one? Hm…How about Alice?"
He had no idea where that came from, but it must have been from the diminutive, wise part of his brain. The pronunciation reminded him of chimes, the sea, and maybe even lily petals. Gentle, shy, yet alluring. It fit.
The girl's eyes were wide with curiosity and perhaps even fear, and she put her hand to her lips, testing the syllables on her voice, feeling her mouth open around the vowels. "Al-iss."
"Yeah. Alice." He put his grin back on, and her lip twitched in response.
It had started a new routine, a renewed purpose. She would get better. He would help her. The fish would die a peaceful death, limp bodies swirling down a toilet.
There was a look of exhausted happiness on her face. There was no bleak smile, no cheeky grin, but he could tell that she had been waiting for his return. But there were also hints of sickness, deprivation of sleep. The glassy eyes, the droop of the spine. How could he make her happy and hurt her at the same time?
"If you're tired, sleep." The statement made her frown.
"No. Want-" Her body was suddenly racked by a procession of coughs, shaking her weak form. He patted her shoulder until the coughing stopped, gently; he didn't want to hurt her.
"You're never gonna get better if you don't sleep, hm?"
"Mm." At last, she smiled, and it was as if she was just a child again, not some quarantined failure. Her face lit up with a cherubic glow, and it roused something inside of him, some absolute euphoria that hinted at the idea that she could indeed be happy, even in her circumstances. Even if he was the only one, he worried about her. Whoever she was. Wherever she came from.
What he didn't know was that she was smiling, not because she was agreeing with him and wanted to get better, but was eagerly approaching the end; yes, she wanted it to end, for everything to go dark, and stay dark.
"So go to sleep now, 'kay? For me?"
The girl's arm lifted itself, hand resting upon his face, and he couldn't help but close his eyes and shudder at the artic and alien touch. "Al-iss." She whispered.
"Mm. Alice."
A passing door emitted a raspy, but piercing, scream. He continued to walk.
"Alice! Alice!" She doubled over and rocked, sobbing and choking as she coughed. He was helpless. She would have to face the agony alone. He grasped her forearm firmly, hoping to somehow lend her his strength; her hands were pressed against her mouth, and water was collecting around her eyes. He gripped harder.
There they remained, even after the ghastly coughing had ceased. He released a breath, severing the tangible tension in the room. He dared to break the silence.
"You okay?"
She let out a high-pitched wail in response – there was no mistaking it, even though her hands muffled the outburst – and clenched her eyes closed in agony, letting the sadness water flow without complaint. Her breathing rasped in and out, accelerating in tempo until she reached the point of hyperventilation, the whites of her eyes glistening in panic and pain. His face paled when something colored a dirty crimson dripped a plummeting drop from the gaps between her fingers. They stared while the diver dove into an off-white pool, leaving behind a splatter of red.
She stared at the stains on her hands. "Back. It's back." She flattened her palms against the bed's sheets, ignoring the staining of the fabric.
"Go away." She muttered venomously. A bolt of hurt and confusion slapped him until he deduced that she wasn't talking to him. What was the subject of her hatred? The blood that now stained her hands? Or even worse, herself?
"GO AWAY!" She banged her back against the metal railings that made up the headboard, repeating the physical abuse several times, then entwined slender fingers into her sable locks, pulling the strands and sending a militia of tears towards the sheets as she shook her head. Again, he could only watch.
When the fit had subsided, he asked, "Are you lonely?"
She answered with a savage look of confusion and resentment.
"You are, hm? 'Cause you're not alone. Maybe you're crazy, a freak. I don't care. I'm still here. And I'm staying, hm."
Her eyes were glazed and hollow, staring at the wall.
"Alice?"
She placed her hand into his, looked at him. "Al-iss."
She was not the definition of Alice. Alice did not mean the rabid startled creature in the bed with the funny eyes and the scary face.
Alice. I love you.
He opened the door. She struggled to prop herself upright, and smiled.
"Hey."
...THE END. I don't know what else to say really, other than the usual "OMG PLEASE PL0X PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW OMG OMG OMG I'LL LIKE TOOOOTALLY HATE YOU AND GO KILL YOUR DOG IF YOU DON'T OMG MUFFINS" newbie crap (two things I'd like to clarify: I is "n00b" at "133t talk", and I tend to use lots of parentheses). Yeah...so, if you like it, review. If you hate it, flame me (I'll give you a hug, I promise), and if you couldn't care less, I apologize for wasting 5-10 minutes of your lifetime, depending on how fast of a reader you are and how long it took the page to load.
- Remember the Strawberries