It's been ten years since that dreadful night. The fire still burns
my eyes and I can hear their screams echo in my mind. I can remember
everything so clearly. The dreams I had haunt me, the voices of the March
Hare and Made Hatter screaming for me to wake up. I was too late though.
I ran to my parents' room. The fire had reached them before I did.
"Mum? Dad?"
"Alice?"
"Mum? Father?"
"I can't breath."
"Get out, Alice! Save yourself."
"Get out of the house."
I did. I got out of the house the only way I could. The fire was coming up the staircase and I wouldn't jump to the wooden floor below. The only other way was through the window. I still have the scars from the jump. The glass cut me up pretty badly, but they weren't as deep as we thought. I heard their screams while I was lying in the snow; crying for my parents and shivering, holding my stuffed rabbit close to me like it was the only thing that could save me.
The staff of the asylum is surprised to see that I've survived as long as I have. I've been stuck in my catatonic state for years. They think ''m deaf and dumb, that I can't hear what they're whispering just outside my door. I've been restrained for no reasons and injected with drugs to make me sleep and see things that I've never seen before. I wake up during the night with strange nightmares about Wonderland and the screams of the other inhabitants give no comfort.
Sometimes, in the darkness of night, I almost see the Cheshire Cat, smiling at me from the world beyond my barred windows. When I blink, the glowing eyes and smile are gone. It comforts me, a little, and all I can do is hug my stuffed rabbit.
"But I don't want to go among mad people."
"Oh, you can't help that! We're all mad here."
Those words still echo in my mind, even years after they were spoken. They haunt me every time I hear a scream echoing down the halls. My padded cell gives no comfort and all I can do is stare at the yellow ceiling. I've retreated from the world, retreating into my mind which has been twisted by guilt, mourning, and absolute pain.
Days pass and seem to mold into months and then years. Doctor Wilson has tended to me for a few years; he has taken a strange interest in me. He tends to me, seeing if I'll react to anything that he does. I don't; I can't. Something is holding me back, but I can't tell what it is. The screams and the fire' maybe they're holding me here, in the darkness of my mind.
I've been restrained in so many ways. My hands cuffed to the walls, shackled to the stone cold ground. Even my legs have been shackled, my arms free and I'm laying on the floor. There have been days where I'm put into a straight jacket and tossed into a room where there are no windows and I'm left alone. A few times I've been placed in the gardens, sat down on a wooden bench and left alone for hours. The other inmates wander around, drooling and speaking gibberish. They look at me, their eyes peering into my own as they go on about their ways, hitting themselves and acting like strange animals. I am aware of it all, but the only way I can move and get these images away from my eyes is if I am moved by helping hands. It's like I'm a rag doll.
When sedated I manage to sleep. For the past months I've seen the Cheshire Cat in my dreams. He lingers in treetops and disappears like before; his smile the last thing to disappear. I still find it strange how he disappears and reappears so. It still makes me giddy, but it is a comfort to see him, even if it is a dream. Could this mean I still have a hold on my sanity?
I found a pencil in my room one night. I don't know who left it there. Maybe the nurse or the doctor left it on my table, being called away to another patient. I took it and drew on a piece of paper that was on the ground. With nothing on my mind I let my dreams guide me. The result was the Cheshire Cat, in all his glory. I placed it on the table and laid back down, waiting for someone to see it. Doctor Wilson was the first one to enter and see my sketch. He was shocked and amazed at what I had done. He spoke to me, but I didn't respond. I was slipping away again. I can't control it.
I was sedated again and I slipped into a nightmare. I was in a horrid asylum, much worse than Rutledge. The insane wandered around, free of supervision. They were mangled beyond imagination. Nails were lodged in their skulls, metal halos wrapped around and nailed into place within their brains, their eyes held open, and their mouths wired. The room I was in was small and I stayed there, huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth, hoping someone would take me away from the place. Every so often a child would wander in, crying out, mumbling, or running around. Nothing they said was understandable. They were in such pain.
Something woke me from that nightmare, but I don't know what it was. As I looked at my stuffed rabbit I was over come with tears. It now had both its eyes; someone had sewn it back on. I held the creature close, sobbing hysterically. My fingers traced over its new eye and the memories of the White Rabbit flooded back. That was what my stuffed rabbit was; it was supposed to be the Rabbit.
The door to the hall opened and one of the nurses ran in. She sat on my bed, watching me cry, trying to comfort me. I resisted and drew back from her hands, clutching my rabbit to my chest and crying. She tried to shush me but I wouldn't listen. Her face was beginning to contort into a mask of worry.
The nurse took my hand, forcing me to look at her. "Tell me what is wrong? What is it? Has something frightened you?"
I began to rock back and forth, staring into nothing and holding the rabbit close. The memories continued to reappear. I closed my eyes. "Into the hole again, we hurried our way into a once glorious garden, now seeped in dark decay." I whispered these words between my sobs, speaking to no one. Those dreams that were wrapped in darkness were becoming visible. The rabbit whispered to me of the ruins in my mind. There was something wrong.
The nurse took hold of the rabbit fiercely. I wailed in surprise but felt something click as she tore of the rabbit's new eye. My tears ceased and my sobs were no more. I stared at the toy and felt something stir within me, like everything was going to be alright. Looking away I laid down, now silent and somewhat content. The outburst frightened both the nurse and myself. When she was happy with my silence she left me, speaking to an orderly who had been standing at the door, waiting if she needed any assistance.
I stared at the ceiling, listening to the nurse's disappearing voice. Lighting flashed outside my one window and thunder rolled. In the distance I could hear the rain falling onto the cobblestone walk way. Lighting flashed once more, casting shadows in my room and the thunder answered its call. I slowly drew my arm close to me, pushing the stuffed toy closer to my body and face. I needed sleep.
"Save us, Alice!" the rabbit said turning its face to me, its voice low and gruff. I looked at it and opened my mouth but not a single sound escaped me. I felt the world around me disappear.
"Mum? Dad?"
"Alice?"
"Mum? Father?"
"I can't breath."
"Get out, Alice! Save yourself."
"Get out of the house."
I did. I got out of the house the only way I could. The fire was coming up the staircase and I wouldn't jump to the wooden floor below. The only other way was through the window. I still have the scars from the jump. The glass cut me up pretty badly, but they weren't as deep as we thought. I heard their screams while I was lying in the snow; crying for my parents and shivering, holding my stuffed rabbit close to me like it was the only thing that could save me.
The staff of the asylum is surprised to see that I've survived as long as I have. I've been stuck in my catatonic state for years. They think ''m deaf and dumb, that I can't hear what they're whispering just outside my door. I've been restrained for no reasons and injected with drugs to make me sleep and see things that I've never seen before. I wake up during the night with strange nightmares about Wonderland and the screams of the other inhabitants give no comfort.
Sometimes, in the darkness of night, I almost see the Cheshire Cat, smiling at me from the world beyond my barred windows. When I blink, the glowing eyes and smile are gone. It comforts me, a little, and all I can do is hug my stuffed rabbit.
"But I don't want to go among mad people."
"Oh, you can't help that! We're all mad here."
Those words still echo in my mind, even years after they were spoken. They haunt me every time I hear a scream echoing down the halls. My padded cell gives no comfort and all I can do is stare at the yellow ceiling. I've retreated from the world, retreating into my mind which has been twisted by guilt, mourning, and absolute pain.
Days pass and seem to mold into months and then years. Doctor Wilson has tended to me for a few years; he has taken a strange interest in me. He tends to me, seeing if I'll react to anything that he does. I don't; I can't. Something is holding me back, but I can't tell what it is. The screams and the fire' maybe they're holding me here, in the darkness of my mind.
I've been restrained in so many ways. My hands cuffed to the walls, shackled to the stone cold ground. Even my legs have been shackled, my arms free and I'm laying on the floor. There have been days where I'm put into a straight jacket and tossed into a room where there are no windows and I'm left alone. A few times I've been placed in the gardens, sat down on a wooden bench and left alone for hours. The other inmates wander around, drooling and speaking gibberish. They look at me, their eyes peering into my own as they go on about their ways, hitting themselves and acting like strange animals. I am aware of it all, but the only way I can move and get these images away from my eyes is if I am moved by helping hands. It's like I'm a rag doll.
When sedated I manage to sleep. For the past months I've seen the Cheshire Cat in my dreams. He lingers in treetops and disappears like before; his smile the last thing to disappear. I still find it strange how he disappears and reappears so. It still makes me giddy, but it is a comfort to see him, even if it is a dream. Could this mean I still have a hold on my sanity?
I found a pencil in my room one night. I don't know who left it there. Maybe the nurse or the doctor left it on my table, being called away to another patient. I took it and drew on a piece of paper that was on the ground. With nothing on my mind I let my dreams guide me. The result was the Cheshire Cat, in all his glory. I placed it on the table and laid back down, waiting for someone to see it. Doctor Wilson was the first one to enter and see my sketch. He was shocked and amazed at what I had done. He spoke to me, but I didn't respond. I was slipping away again. I can't control it.
I was sedated again and I slipped into a nightmare. I was in a horrid asylum, much worse than Rutledge. The insane wandered around, free of supervision. They were mangled beyond imagination. Nails were lodged in their skulls, metal halos wrapped around and nailed into place within their brains, their eyes held open, and their mouths wired. The room I was in was small and I stayed there, huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth, hoping someone would take me away from the place. Every so often a child would wander in, crying out, mumbling, or running around. Nothing they said was understandable. They were in such pain.
Something woke me from that nightmare, but I don't know what it was. As I looked at my stuffed rabbit I was over come with tears. It now had both its eyes; someone had sewn it back on. I held the creature close, sobbing hysterically. My fingers traced over its new eye and the memories of the White Rabbit flooded back. That was what my stuffed rabbit was; it was supposed to be the Rabbit.
The door to the hall opened and one of the nurses ran in. She sat on my bed, watching me cry, trying to comfort me. I resisted and drew back from her hands, clutching my rabbit to my chest and crying. She tried to shush me but I wouldn't listen. Her face was beginning to contort into a mask of worry.
The nurse took my hand, forcing me to look at her. "Tell me what is wrong? What is it? Has something frightened you?"
I began to rock back and forth, staring into nothing and holding the rabbit close. The memories continued to reappear. I closed my eyes. "Into the hole again, we hurried our way into a once glorious garden, now seeped in dark decay." I whispered these words between my sobs, speaking to no one. Those dreams that were wrapped in darkness were becoming visible. The rabbit whispered to me of the ruins in my mind. There was something wrong.
The nurse took hold of the rabbit fiercely. I wailed in surprise but felt something click as she tore of the rabbit's new eye. My tears ceased and my sobs were no more. I stared at the toy and felt something stir within me, like everything was going to be alright. Looking away I laid down, now silent and somewhat content. The outburst frightened both the nurse and myself. When she was happy with my silence she left me, speaking to an orderly who had been standing at the door, waiting if she needed any assistance.
I stared at the ceiling, listening to the nurse's disappearing voice. Lighting flashed outside my one window and thunder rolled. In the distance I could hear the rain falling onto the cobblestone walk way. Lighting flashed once more, casting shadows in my room and the thunder answered its call. I slowly drew my arm close to me, pushing the stuffed toy closer to my body and face. I needed sleep.
"Save us, Alice!" the rabbit said turning its face to me, its voice low and gruff. I looked at it and opened my mouth but not a single sound escaped me. I felt the world around me disappear.