Zip up your coat. It shan't be long before she returns.
Come now, you don't want to be left behind.
The madness returns.
Alice Liddel closed her eyes, exhausted. It had been another long day of chores, taking after the small ones, and therapy, which seemed to do her more harm than good as of late. Her hand trembled with the effort it took to reach up and sweep the short black hair out of her face. The weak breath that escaped parched lips was enough to stir the dust around her. While most of Bumby's house was kept clean, Alice often neglected her own room. There just wasn't enough time in a day. Every third Sunday, her room would get some attention. A thorough top-to-bottom cleaning.
The darkness behind her lids was both a comfort and a curse. It frightened her a little- the unknown of the loss of sight. It was like playing a game of roulette. Every time her eyes closed for a significant amount of time, there was always a good chance she could end up somewhere she didn't want to be anymore. This time she won, as she opened er eyes and she was till in her room. It was a comfort to her. The bed groaned under her weight a she shifted to the side and looked about the room with lazy eyes.
In the dying sun, the room was a wonderland in itself. It was full of drawings, paintings, sketches of the people she'd met and the places she'd been in wonderland. She rarely looked at them, though. If she looked at them too long, often they'd twist into what they really were. Dark, dangerous people, polluted spaces... None of them very welcoming.
She nuzzled her pale face into the pillow she lay on, and gave another small sigh. Pulling her knees in to curl into a ball, Alice began to slowly drift off into what promised to be either a very blank sleep, or one hell of a nightmare. As luck would have it, after sleep overtook her, the dream was very dull. However, when she awoke that morning, she was as tired as when she'd fallen asleep. She felt a sticky hand on her face, and had to resist the urge to break the little fingers that were slapping her awake.
It was one of the more friendly children at Bumbys, come to wake her for breakfast. The poor dear was small for her age, and very mangy. Her little pink dress was tattered, and patched with different colors where it had once been nearly shredded. The light orangey-red har was matted to her face, and done up in sticky, dirty braids on either side of her head. Alice couldn't help but give her a small smile.
"Good morning, Ellie." she said, sitting up and stretching out the tense muscles from her sleep. The breakfast she pictured when she thought of what a nice Sunday breafast might mean was nothing close to what she got. Instead of eggs and toast, she got a stale piece of bread, oatmeal, and a cup of lukewarm tea. She sighed softly, and ate it anyway, knowing that the sustenance would have to suffice for the morning. She had a long, hard workload ahead of her that day, and she planned on cleaning her room as well. The dust from the night before tickled her lungs.
When what passed for breakfast was finished, and the small children had scampered off to do their business, Alice collected the dishes and brought them to the kitchen. It was a sorry excuse for a kitchen, and probably needed more of a cleaning than her bedroom. What put her off most about the kitchen was the cook. He was a fat, lazy man who, when not cooking, spent his time in a rocking chair, sweating profusely and breathing as if he'd run a marathon. Alice kept her back to him as she cleared out the sink and prepared water for the dishes. It was a murky water, but it was better than letting the dishes rot with mold.
With her elbows deep into the sudsy water, and the sound of the dishes sloshing around, she tried her best to ignore the creaking from the roking chair, and the groan that it made a the cook stood up. What seemed like hours, but was a mere few seconds later, Alice found herself wrapped up in the cook's arms from behind. She stiffened immediately, and felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. The cook's meaty hands roamed over Alice's small little frame, and he let out a wheezing chuckle behind her. The smell of sweat and a musk that made her gag surrounded the two of them, as he leaned into her and whispered in her ear.
"Good morning Alice. I was hoping you'd have dishes today." Alice could have vomited then, as she felt the cook's arousal pressing into her backside. She tried to let her mind wander away from the situation, knowing that what was coming could be nothing but bad. She frowned, resisting the urge to knee him right in the lump pressed against her, but knew it would only get her in more trouble. It had never deterred him in the past. Sure enough, her hands were removed from the dish water, and dried off quickly, before he took one of her hands and pressed it against the obvious bulge in his pants.
She tried to pull her hand away, and immediately found out it was a mistake.
"Now, now, Alice. Be a good little bitch, or I'll tell Bumby you were stealing from the fridge again." His words made her gag, as he spun her around and bent her over the sideboard. The sudden cool breeze, followed by the pain was enough to tell her what was happening, and she shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly closed.
Close your eyes, Alice.
Escape... Go to your Wonderland.