Last Nights at Rutledge
By Samuel O'Grady
Doctor Wilson sat upright in his Bergère chair at his desk, typing his notes on his recent and probably most disturbed patient. Her name was Alice. Dr. Wilson had never seen a child of 16 years of age more disturbed and uneasy. He wrote on his black typewriter his cases on her.
September 13, 1868
It has been 3 years since the patient's family was destroyed in the fire. Cases show that the fire was caused by her pet cat, Dinah, accidently tipping over a bucket of gas and kerosene into the fireplace. I am no closer to a diagnosis of my patient's case. She is physically responsive, her reflexes acute, but her mind seems to slip everyday further and further away. She has become less-inclined to communicate, and I believe she is preparing for a more significant trip into a world in which a friend had created for her in a novel. Yes, my patient is Alice Liddell, inspiration for the "Alice's Adventures Underground" story. I find it difficult to believe myself, but it is true. Tonics and other agents have proved ineffective. Alice is always talking of characters and elements from the story, stating how everybody looks to her now. They seem to resemble the people she knows. She has considered me the equivalent of the Hatter from the story. Will find out reason why later. Perhaps it is time to consider a more radical course of treatment.
Doctor Hieronymus Quincy Wilson
On the next day, Dr. Wilson had called Alice in for lunch with each other. He thought that the best way to keep ties close between patient and doctor would be for the patient to trust their doctor. He would bond with Alice and become her friend. At 1:00 P.M precisely, Alice entered the library where Dr. Wilson was.
Alice, as you could guess, looked so different then her younger 10-year-old self. Her curly brunette hair was now tousled and darkened to the point that it was black as ashes from lack of sunlight. Her radiant skin, though not having any signs of acne, was now pale and sickly. Her eyes looked like diamonds that would break, leak tears, and stab you.
Dr. Wilson sat upright in his chair as Alice did in hers. She was still smart and had manners, even if a little disturbed. They sat across a small table from one another, the Doctor having an English-muffin with jam and butter, with tea on the side. Alice had vegetables like tomatoes or lettuce, eating with her hands. The Doctor tried anything to cheer Alice up. He talked with her about Wonderland or her parents. Neither one worked. And the Doctor was out of ideas before he could continue further.
Dr. Wilson stood by the fireplace in his room across from the asylum halls and the library. What could he do to make Alice better? He knew for certain of one thing, however: Wonderland did not make Alice happy.
The next day, Alice ate lunch alone in her cell. The orderlies, Dr. Wilson's nephews, threw her food under the slot in the door, expecting her to eat her food this time. They thought that Alice was nothing but trouble, and was insane far before her registration at Rutledge Asylum. Alice didn't eat anything. She just let her food sit where it was for the last week. She did, however steal a spoon sometimes.
Her vision now began to break apart on rare instances. She would see sudden flashes all on her own that only appeared for a split-second. She could see a void of nothingness, with mirrors floating in the void. The mirrors had clouds, violently spinning about and firing up, ready to have a thunderstorm. And in those clouds, pulsating hard and darkly, dripping black and dark red, was a heart.
Alice's second vision was her last today. It looked like the mirror of a heart spinning out of control. And as it spun like the earth on its axis, spinning faster than the speed of light, it spontaneously combusted into a ball of fire. The only thing that the darkness contained now was the black slits of a cat's yellow eyes and the jagged crescent moon underneath it.
The orderlies came into Alice's cell, as it was time to give her the medicine she needed for such a case for the week. When they walked in, they spied cold, uneaten porridge and sandwiches. They had had it with this girl. One of the orderlies held her mouth open, while the other tried to force-feed her. She kicked and screamed in attempt to break free, and tried spitting it back out at them. Alice grabbed the spoon in her pocket, and stabbed it in the caretaker who was feeding her in the cheek, as he cried in pain. She had been sharpening the spoons with a knife to kill herself, but now it was more necessary for self-defense.
As she looked at one of the brother nephews, she saw them twist and transform. He was backing up against a wall in total fear, sweating and screeching for help. The brothers now seemed fatter and rounder, looking exactly like one another. There coats were now striped red-and-white. They wore peculiar hats, similar to a child's birthday cap. And their faces looked uglier and more brutish each second. Alice screamed at the sight of them in fear, closing her eyes tight, wishing them away with good dreams.
But she never had one for 6 years.
One week later, Alice was sitting in her cell, upright in her bed. Dr. Wilson had left the case open to anybody else. He was fed up with Alice's behavior after months. He was glad to have it over with. The orderlies were sent to a hospital, far away from Rutledge. Her new nurse was named Lucy Triffs. She was a very cold, mean woman indeed, not speaking to Alice, forcing her to eat, pushing the needles in too far, and talking about Alice coldly behind her back.
Her only comfort now was a little toy bunny that she hid behind Nurse Triffs back. She would talk to it and it would listen. She would hug it and it would hug back. She would play with it and it would laugh in her mind.
The rabbit was her only friend now.
Alice slept with her eyes wide open tonight. The storm didn't bother her. She held her friend in her hand, at her chest so fondly. And then a voice talked to her. It was the rabbit. She acted as if it were a normal thing, though. "What's wrong, Alice?" the Rabbit said. "I'm alone" she replied. "What else is wrong, Alice?" "Something is…broken."
"What's broken, Alice?"
"I am."