"Come closer Alice," Hatter's unsteady hoarse voice crooned. "Let me see your eyes."
Alice raised her gaze from the surface of the visiting room's table, feeling the stare of the infamous Hatter rake across her face. She looked up into his crazed green eyes, noticing how bloodshot and swollen they were. His thin lips which were usually pulled into a taut grimace were spread into a wide grin, showing his perfectly straight white teeth that always looked a little too pristine. His skin was paper white from his seven years in the asylum, his hair ran down to his shoulders in tight tangled and disorderly curls because the staff were always too scared to go anywhere near him, and worst of all his nails—which were resting patiently on the surface of the silver table—were long and had been meticulously sharpened.
"You aren't scared," Hatter smiled, tilting his head to the side and flaunting his high cheekbones. His sharp jaw hinted German descent, possibly Russian, but what mattered most was its strength. He had it set in determination, appraising her as his eyes devoured her appearance. His comment was very matter-of-fact.
"Why should I be scared of someone who's coming home with me?" Alice replied pleasantly. Hatter, pleased with her answer, held his hand out as a request for her to place her palm in his. Quietly Alice complied, watching him bring the back of her hand up to his lips. He kissed it tenderly.
"Such captivating blue eyes you have, my dear," Hatter murmured in his sing-song voice, "and what gorgeous long blond hair. Such smooth and ivory skin so fair, such luscious lips to kiss, I cannot help but smile since, you are the one for me. Dear Alice, can't you see? I've been waiting for you all this while in this dreadful asylum." He slowly leaned forward. "Do you remember the night we first met?"
Alice smirked to herself and reached up to her long wavy layers, brushing her side bangs away from her right eye and tucking them behind her ear. Slowly she turned her face to the side, exposing the tattoo she had once worn with pride. Inked into the tender spot behind her right ear was a playing card. The image was in the style of the Joker card, but instead of a minstrel what stood there was a skeleton clutching a crimson rose to its chest. It was Hatter's gift to her the night he had been introduced to her at her friend's tattoo parlor; he'd paid for it. It was the card he used to wear on his vintage black velvet top hat. Hatter's eyes softened as he stared at the image, reaching up and clutching his heart warmly.
"My beautiful card," Hatter gushed. "Each time I see it on your flawless skin it makes me want to weep with joy." Alice kept a mask of indifference on her face. It was the safest thing to do at the moment.
"The police sent me the clothes they confiscated from your mansion before the fire," Alice informed him softly. "I have them all hanging in your closet at my home. I bought you a hat rack for all your top hats and a jewelry stand for all of your pocket watches."
"How thoughtful, my kind, gentle Alice," Hatter praised lovingly, reaching across the table and stroking her hands. Alice did not move. "I am honored to live with you while my mansion is rebuilt." His smile straightened and he yanked his hands away, whipping his head toward the door. Standing outside, exposed by the glass rectangle in the door, was the psychiatrist in charge of Hatter. He had knocked gently on the door.
"Good morning Alice," Dr. Schuster tipped his head as he entered the room. "How are you today, Hatter?"
"I'd be much better if you had the butter I gave you just yesterday stuffed into your socks," Hatter sneered. Dr. Schuster only chuckled and handed the manila folder he had been holding to Alice.
"He's only coherent when alone with you, Alice," Dr. Schuster reported serenely. "But it seems he voices his worries more when you are gone."
"What do you mean?" Alice asked quietly. Hatter remained silent, sulking.
"Open the folder," Dr. Schuster instructed, stuffing his hands into his lab coat's pockets and leaning against the white walls of the visiting room. Alice stared down at the folder for a moment in hesitation, bracing herself for whatever was trapped within. When she lifted the lip of the cardstock material, it was to stare down at photographs of Hatter's cell walls. Smeared all along the white of the walls were phrases, and all of it seemed to be in blood.
Find the rabbit hole, my love.
I'll slit your throat Queenie.
Little white rabbit, with your fluffy tail, let's play a game.
Cats are for killing, not for grinning.
Tweedles stuffed with needles.
Marchie, pass Alice the cleanest cup.
Off with Queenie's head.
No cat need rest on Alice's lap. My head will keep it warm.
A rabbit's heart for the Queen will keep Alice clean.
Tweedles dance and tweedles sing, until I wipe my blade all clean.
A noose for the bunny, an axe for Queenie, blades for the Tweedles, and a bucket for kitty.
"Oh, I'm blushing," Hatter laughed madly, having seen the photographs. He hid his face in his palms, peeking out between his fingers and grinning proudly. Alice took in the photos with a calm expression, hiding her deep sense of unease. This man is completely obsessed with me.
"Hatter believes the characters in the fairytale Alice in Wonderland are actual people in our reality," Dr. Schuster reported once he felt Alice had seen enough of the photographs. "Why don't you tell her, Hatter? Who is the White Rabbit?"
"I'll wring that rabbit's neck!" Hatter shrieked, on his feet in moments. His body was shaking in rage, and his eyes were wild. Dr. Schuster rushed toward him, but Alice held up her hand and sighed, getting to her feet as well. Slowly she walked to him, feeling his intense eyes follow her, and tilted her head to the left. Her tattoo caught his eye, and instantly his rigid muscles relaxed so he could reach out and brush his fingertips along the ink.
"Alice," he whispered, leaning toward her neck. "My beautiful Alice."
"Let's go see the March Hare, Hatter," Alice smiled. "I want some tea." Hatter's eyes lit up. Dr. Schuster stood straight in alarm.
"Alice, I still think—"
"You've already signed the release papers," Alice reminded him gently, reaching down to her chair and grabbing her bag. Slowly she put the black messenger bag across her shoulders, resting it on her hip. "Hatter, I have a surprise for you downstairs."
"A surprise?" Hatter gasped excitedly. "Oh goodie!"
"Alice, he needs to stay on the prescriptions I gave you," Dr. Schuster pestered her as Hatter opened the door for her very eloquently and insisted she go through first.
"Gobstopper," Hatter spat, slamming the door in Dr. Schuster's face. Alice couldn't help but chuckle in amusement. Hatter's eyes widened. In a moment he had slammed her into a wall, pinning her wrists against the white hall paint. Alice didn't so much as flinch.
"You smiled," Hatter whimpered desperately, shaking. "You smiled."
"I want to blow out my birthday candles, Hatter," Alice told him gently in an attempt to distract him. Hatter only pressed against her harder.
"It's been seven years since I've seen your smile," Hatter groaned, resting his head against the wall beside her face. He couldn't look at her. "It's been seven years. Seven years." Suddenly he began bashing his head into the rough wall. "Seven…years…seven…years."
"Hatter!" Alice breathed, struggling against him. His grip was like steel. He finally came to a stop, his forehead scraped raw, and smiled at her as blood dripped down his face.
"I wonder," he whispered, leaning down to her face, "do you still taste the way I remember you, Alice?" His lips were millimeters away from hers. "Would your soft moans sound the same as seven years ago?" Slowly his lips lowered to her chin, and he began to kiss her. He followed her jaw up to her right ear, gliding down to her precious tattoo and sucking on it delicately. Alice couldn't stop her shiver of pleasure. Hatter froze.
"Just the way I remember," he exhaled in relief. "So sensitive. So scrumptious. So soft." Openly, he moved away. "It's your birthday, Alice. Do the candles say twenty-five? Will the candlelight glisten in your eyes like it did seven years ago?"
"Let's find out, Hatter," Alice cooed, reaching down and twining her fingers through his. "Come on, let's leave this place. Let's go home."
"Alice," Hatter smiled, letting her guide him to the elevator that led to the asylum's lobby, "will you fall down the rabbit hole with me?"
"Yes Hatter," Alice assured him gently, feeling him wrap his arms around her from behind the moment the elevator doors closed. Silently Alice noticed how drastically his scent had changed. When she'd first met him seven years ago, Hatter had always smelt very particular; warm, musky, and pungent. Now he smelled clean and sterile. It's like two different colors. He was black before. Now he has been scrubbed down and made white.
"Alice," he whispered again and again, squeezing her tighter. "Alice. My Alice." The sound of his voice in her ear rose Goosebumps on her skin. Down the rabbit hole I fall. Dizzy, desperate, wheezing, sneezing, choking on society's lies. The game is set, the players arrive, and now the bloodshed begins.
What seemed like an eternity later the elevator doors slid back open, releasing Hatter and Alice into the empty white lobby. Sitting on the ivory chair closest to the closet was a burgundy box with a black ribbon tied around it. Alice walked to it and lifted it into her arms, holding the box out to Hatter who stood there at a loss for words.
"It's your birthday Alice," Hatter sniffed, genuinely in tears. "You free me, vow to take me in, and now give me presents on your own birthday." He gratefully took the box and set it down on another chair, reaching down to open it. He glanced back at her once, hesitantly, before ripping into the box. What he saw within made him laugh hysterically.
"It's all coming back Alice," Hatter giggled, taking the black velvet top hat out of the box and sliding it onto his head. He adjusted the card that sat in the crimson ribbon and stroked it lovingly, staring at his distorted reflection on the elevator doors. He reached quickly into the box and yanked out the black trench coat hidden within, sliding it on as though he'd done it every day of his life, and throwing off his slippers. He eagerly climbed into the pair of Doc Martins she'd included in his present. The second his outfit was complete, Hatter scooped Alice into his arms and began twirling.
"We can be mad together Alice!" he declared joyously. "It's time for the tea party! Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at. Butter, tea and toast and jam, such a pity there's no ham." He set her down and held her by the shoulders, steadying her. "Alice, how is a raven like a writing desk?"
"I'm not sure," Alice breathed dizzily, her world slowly ceasing the spin. Without another word he lifted her into his arms and ran from the building, carrying her even when they reached the security checkpoint at the gate and the checkpoint at the garage. Alice helped him buckle into her car, slid out of the parking building, and made her way steadily to the home of March Hare. Hatter was bouncing excitedly beside her the entire way.