"This isn't funny anymore!"
Alice cried out into the dim lighting that surrounded her. A misty black shadow was circling her. It was a person, moving so fast that their shadow was nothing but a blur. With every lap she felt a rush of cold air push her jet-black hair smoothly from her face. Whoever this was wasn't kidding around and she didn't think their intentions were exactly positive. Suddenly she felt a hard blow to the back of her head. The metal bar hit her with such a force that if she had not known what to do she would have been out cold. Swiftly and out of habit she leaned forward with the blow, softening the impact if only a little. As she fell she used her legs to trip her opponent and swung back to her feet, grasping the bar and hitting her attacker in the chest.
Blood spattered as the man started coughing up the red metallic liquid. She looked down and regretted her dress choice. A pale blue old fashion dress adorned her body; complete with the petticoat and boots that resembled those she had had as a child. Sunday, damn Sunday, this was the only day she dressed up. Usually her choice was simpler but this morning when she went to her dresser she looked through all her clothes and could not find one single thing acceptable for church. All her street clothes were Goth or punk, skulls blood, ripped, you name it. She was made for handling the street. She was the one who ran things around here.
She shouldn't be wearing this frilly thing that would have been better suited for a 6 year old. Yet there she was, another body lay in front of her, another blood spattered dress. 'Wait, body?' she thought to herself, 'There's no way that could have killed anyone!' As she warily approached the kidnapper she noticed one of two things, this person had fiery red hair that curled and stretched all the way down to their lower back. The other thing was, upon closer inspection, this person was not a man at all, but a woman.
She leaned in closer only to realize that she was no longer staring at a person, but a pile of dust. The blood on her dress gone also replaced by the smoky black dust that resembled the shadow earlier. The wind causally picked up the dust off the ground and her dress and carried it away, bit by bit, until nothing remained. Showing no trace of the person who had sat there only moments earlier.
"What is this place?"
Alice could have sworn it was her that said it. After all she was thinking the exact same thing only moments before, but the voice that came out wasn't hers. It was far to high pitched and timid. Feeling a pair of eyes on her she flipped around. Metal bar at the ready position in her hand.
The cool metal felt conforting and calmed her enough to not blindly attack, but as she stared at the person looking at her she suddenly lost any reason to fight. There was this little girl, about 6 or 7. Her blonde curly hair like nothing else, she had only seen hair like it once in her life. Her mother had dyed it that color. She had always loved dying it, hating the red that she was born with. The eyes that stared back at her. Pure lighting blue with a rim of black around the edge adding just enough toughness yet still pure and innocent were filled with tears.
This girl, was alice. This girl, was her, still untainted by the life she would soon face but still had been through more then was fair. She had noticed, in those curly locks was a black headband, her mother had given it to her 3 days before she died. telling her to always adorn her beautiful curls with it. She had worn it since no matter what. although she had switched to dark stright locks instead. She reached up and fingered it in her own hair. How was this possible? How were there two of her in this space? Before she had time to think about it she called out to the little girl,
"when?"
Little Alice stared at her blankly.
"WHEN?"
She yelled, upset she could not get an answer out of the child, "When did your mother die?"