(If this is the way it'll end, then she'd be better dead.
With paper hearts and stolen tarts,
And a Queen without a head.)
Paper Hearts for Harlequins.
(Burn... burn... burn...)
The fire burnt Alice's dollhouse dreams as easilly as if they were made of paper. Her parents threw themselves into the fire as a sacrifice for their dear daughter, the flames were more than happy to oblidge.
Ashes to ashes... We all fall down.
The Hatter sips rotten tea from his cracked china. He swears that he is Alice's redeemer, he says she believes him but keeps her distance. The machinery inside of him creaks and moans. It resembles the sound of a breaking heart. So, Alice cuts him a heart made out of paper. And stitches it to his sleeve. He is thankful, maybe now he won't have to pretend to hear it beating. She always made him feel real.
Poor little Alice, all strung up with malice.
Hatter thinks that if the Queen finds out, he'll have their heads. He was supposed to kill her, but then he could always use the excuse that he mixed up KILL with KISS. But, the Queen's motives didn't really matter anymore. No matter what the punishment, he thinks it is worth it. This, his first and last paradise. Surrounded by hell. So, he sings her stolen lullabies, and combs his bloodied fingers through her hair.
"You could try not to make personal remarks, it's very rude!"
She pretends to sleep, but instead clings to every note he sings. And thinks herself very foolish for caring so much. She knows that she should have killed him by now. But still, she patiently listens to the song he is singing. She finds him very brave for being so close to her: doesn't he know what everyone around her dies?
"Whose making personal remarks now?"
He finds her very brave for being so close to him: doesn't she know what everyone around him dies? Just one drop of arsenic. One drop and he won't be so afraid. But still, she lives as proof of his cowardice. Maybe one day. Maybeeeeeeee. But until then, he'll cradle her in his arms like a glass dollie. He'll feel, kissm smell, waste, touch, taste, rot her. It would be a shame not to.
Finis.