A/N: I thought about writing some entries from Alice's diary while she was still human and at the asylum. I plan on adding some chapters ( I promise they will not be so crappy as the first one)

In 1900' there were the electroshocks and other tortures in order to help people 'get rid of their confusion' and mental institutions weren't the most pleasant places in the world as you can imagine. I enjoyed myself trying to capture this atmosphere in this fic.

Also feel free to leave reviews. They always make my day :)

Pre-Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not known Twilight or the character of Alice Cullen ( in this fic Mary Alice Brandon) . All rights go to Stephenie Mayer.

The Asylum

Entry one

Dear Diary,

My parents have neglected me in this Asylum for mentally challenged people just because I am different.

Since I was little, I have been having these strange dreams. Sometimes they are about the future and I know exactly what they mean. Some other times, they are hazy and indefinable and I can't understand what they are trying to tell me.

I am not insane, I know it as clear as I can see those peculiar glimpses of the future, but my parents don't have the same opinion.

They say that the people in the asylum can cure me from my visions, and then I will be able to go back home, but they have never come to visit me all those endless months I am here.

My parents pretend I am dead, and maybe this is the best for everyone, because that way they will not have to explain to other people why I am here and if they can forget me they won't feel ashamed of me anymore.

I love them too much and I can hardly blame them for this.

Nevertheless, the treatment of the Asylum hasn't make my visions stop, neither have I lost this sense that sometimes tells me things. I don't know if I can bear another ''treatment'', not without breaking down and collapsing, but I try to be strong.

If he didn't visit, I don't know what would happen of me; maybe my self and my will to move on would just vanish and the treatment would make me just another corpse whose life has been drained, a living zombie.

He is the groundkeeper of the asylum and the only person I see through my cell. He visits me and brings me a different thing everyday. They are always small and trivial objects, a flower from the garden, a comb, a small doll. He asks me to guess what it is and he is the only person that doesn't accuse me because of my abbilities.

There is something strange about him and I can't quite put a finger at it, but he is the only friend I have right now. He gave me this notebook I'm writting on and a small pencil.

In my cell it's always pitch black and I have no source of light, but I can write this entry using my other senses. Scribbling those words in this new diary feels familiar and it can almost ease the pain of my soul.

I'm not sure what date or even what month it is. In some ways it seems as if I have spent my whole life here in the dark. I will have to hide you somewhere, Dear Diary, beacuse I don't know what will happen if they find you.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that he will visit me soon.

I'm lying on the cold hard ground and I am waiting. It is slient and I can only hear the sound of my breath, but I'm still waiting.

I'm waiting for him because I love him and I'm sure he will eventually come as he always does.

I hope that I will manage to write again soon, but if I don't,

Goodnigt, Dear Diary.

Alice