Disclaimer: I don't own 'Alice in Wonderland' – neither the Disney versions nor the original books.

Note: I know this might start out different than wat you are used to from me (or Disney), but (if you are indeed someone who has read my work before) just trust me: stories often tell more about the author than the characters. And have I disappointed you thus far?

Chapter 1

The warm night air brushed against her naked body; cooling the sweat as she looked out at the Basilica di San Marco across the moonlit water. Moonlight caught on the prancing horses on the balcony, but Alice hardly saw the stunning sight. Slowly, as always when in thought, her hand reached up and played with the gold-and-jet pendant she wore around her neck – the only thing she was wearing, in fact. It was a small thing; not worth much, that she had picked up on her very first trip to China. It was a small, stylised golden raven inlaid with jet. At the time she had wondered about her inclination to buy it, yet now it somehow seemed to be the only real thing in her life. Right now she was willing to give up everything else as long as nobody tried to take the pendant from her.

"Come back to bed," a sultry male voice called from behind her. Slowly she turned around, aware the light behind her cast her in shadow while lighting the man on the bed. She suddenly realised she had forgotten his name: he was just one other she had met in her journeys around the world and he, too, suddenly seemed immaterial. The need he had satisfied only minutes ago suddenly seemed immaterial; unreal.

"Thank you for your time," she softly responded. "Now get out," she told him and turned her back on him, dismissing him: already forgotten.

But he was not the type to be idly dismissed like that. Within a heartbeat the man was off the bed and had grabbed her by the hair with his right hand. By the hair he turned her around to face him; bending her head painfully back. She had little choice but to look at him.

"You little harlot!" he spat at her with his thick accent. "I am not some toy to throw away," he added.

It suddenly occurred to her that he was quite capable of raping her right there. And who would believe that she had not wanted it? Though she might be a rich, successful woman, she was none the less cast out from certain circles of respectability. No one would believe it was rape.

She suddenly also realised this was the most excitement she had had in a long time. The rush of feeling and emotion she had sought in her travels had worn stale in time. Then she had turned to other forms of emotion, but even that had now turned sour – long before tonight, in fact.

She also realised that though she was in a situation that will probably cause her much pain, she was not afraid: not of him or any man. Indeed, she relished the idea of him attempting to hurt her. Not that she liked pain, but because she knew she would never submit without a fight. It was this coming fight she felt in her veins.

"I have killed the jabberwocky," she calmly informed him. "You do not scare me," she added as she stared into his furious eyes.

"Crazy bitch," her lover of only half an hour earlier suddenly spat. Suddenly he flung her away from him with enough force that she fell against the wall and bruised her hip. As she regained her balance her hand reached for the dagger she always kept near: it was hidden in the folds of her cloak lying on the floor.

But she had no need of it, as the man retreated back to the bed; picking up his pants. With deft hands he put them on and grabbed the rest of his clothes while muttering under his breath. In less than a minute he had put that on as well and was heading out the door. With a resounding crash he slammed it behind him as he disappeared from her room and her life for good.

Alice was still standing by the window and now she slowly sat down on the wide ledge. She pulled her legs up under her chin and folded her arms around her knees. The breeze soothed her and slowly her beating heart slowed down. Her fingers touched the pendant around her neck and she lay her head down on her raised knees.

Tomorrow her ship will be sailing for England and she will be on it. Perhaps there she will find an answer to the restlessness that had been building inside her for so long now.

"Why is a raven like a writing-desk?" she whispered into the warm summer night even as her fingers played with the pendant: ceaselessly running it back and forth on its chain as the wind finally rocked her to sleep.