Laying down on the green grass on top of a hill roll, I imagine what would happen in my Wonderland now that it's safe from further insanity. Gradually, clouds passed by, like white brushes against the blue canvass of the finite sky, and at the corner of my eyes I saw the bright sun shining... colouring the clouds into a bright light hue of yellow with gentle streaks of white tracing its edges.

I was at peace with myself again.

My eyelids fluttered shut at the calming, silent breeze, but then I realized...

Where am I?

Then suddenly, I jerked my eyes open widely and found myself in the asylum; the very place where ever so dreaded going to. I was on a bed, in a strain jacket , strapped and gagged by the 'caretakers' as they carefully observed me from the side. One of them snarled at me, holding... my knife? I recognize her, she's the nursemaid who always grabbed chances to be with Dr. Bumby. For some odd reason, she actually liked that slimy, disgusting, cad.

But how did she get my knife? Where did she get it? Please don't tell me I'm still in my mad Wonderland! It's impossible that she got a hold of my vorpal blade!

"Now Alice, I trust you know the reason why exactly you are here now with us," I recognize Mr. Wilton's voice from behind the surgical table where I was bound to.

"Are you still dreaming dear? Wake up you lazy little girl!"Mrs. Pris said in her usual tone, coming towards me from the shadows of the room.

"Remember Alice, you let someone else take my place; you let someone else take the reigns," The Queen of Hearts, both in her tentacle infused form and my child-like appearance said with a foreboding sigh.

I closed my eyes shut once again, not wanting to be here right now. At that moment, I felt everything around me change; I felt as if I was a child again while my whole family was still alive. My eyelids slowly unshielded my vision, and discovered that I was truly a child again. I craned my head to the side and saw Lizzie, my older sister whom I loved so much, peek out of the window. I also found myself pressing against the window, in search for something but it was so long that I forgot what I intended to look for.

"Look at him Alice, he's quite the gentleman isn't he?" Lizzie smiled at the man from down below, whom I recognized to be her focus of unbridled infatuation, affection and adoration; A well-off alumnus of this school with lots of charisma, wealth, and charm.

Before, I couldn't understand what she saw in that tall man. Other than the fact that he was indeed a fairly good story teller, he didn't have much charm in my opinion as he always stuttered and was often rather shy in our family's presence despite being a family friend.

Every time he came to see us, I couldn't help but tease my sister since she would never ever accept my advice. And I had the strong urge to tease her now so I opened the window and yelled greetings to the man from below. But since I pushed the window open, the looking glass beside us was knocked over. I looked back at it in fright as an image of mother and father scolding me surfaces in my thoughts. To my luck, Lizzie caught it just in time and put it back in its place.

I smiled at her, despite the fact that I was going to rile her up again, she still saved me. "Thank you!"

Then I turned back to the man who just spotted us, to her dismay.

"Hullo Mister-!"

But before I completed my sentence, Lizzie cupped my noisy mouth with her hand and dragged me down almost instantly which made us tumble backwards. She then squeaked, stood up swiftly yet in an unlady-like manner and ran away before she had the chance to ogle at her infatuation again, slamming the door shut.

I sighed, stoop up and dusted my white frock then whipped my head back down to face Mister... Oh who was it again?

"Hullo Mister Carlson!" I said as if I remembered his name abruptly. It wasn't me talking anymore, it was the long lost memory.

"Hullo Miss Alice," he greeted me as he bowed down in his usual stiff manner, taking off his top hat; his shoulders looked like they were held by a wooden hanger and his back as rigid as an iron board. I recently told him about these and he took it quite in a confused manner before agreeing with a rather bewildered expression.

I've always thought that it was a peculiar answer, but so was the disappearance of the lower limbs used to maneuver when people wore long dresses, especially when people grew older, but then again I was a child back then; roughly at the age of ten or less.

"Alice!" Our caretaker bustled over, no doubt summoned by my flustered sister, who was merely inches away from the window next to me, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at me while still in her current feverish blushing state. "What on earth are you doing? Young ladies do not shout out of windows like monkeys!"

"Oh, I do wish I was a monkey!" I forgot about Mr. Carlson for a moment; monkeys were my favorite animals, along with kittens, rabbits, hedgehogs, mice, frogs, toads and lizards. "Wouldn't that be smashing?"

"Alice! Wherever did you hear that word? Young ladies do not say 'smashing.' " She reached over my head to push down the window. However, when she saw Mr. Carlson smiling up at us, she hesitated. "Oh!"

Lizzie was secretly eyeing the young man from the window, her scowl slowly turning into a slight frown, but then again restrained her infatuation when Mr. Bumby came into view. He was following Mr. Carlson, and to me they looked like a wealthy man and his very own fool following behind.

Mr. Bumby is an undergraduate of Oxford University and father would always invite the undergraduates to our home for a little get-to-know. Every time Lizzie heard that they were coming over, she'd be disgusted, referring to them as 'toadies' . He'd always obsess over my sister and she kept turning him down, but it seemed like he took them as mere 'hard-ball' play of sorts. It was sort of distasteful if you ask me.

Where I stood right now, it felt real. It felt like I was really a child again, experiencing my life from before over again. I'm happy, very happy indeed.

But everything froze at the moment I let out a chuckle, everyone stood still like statues. It scared me, sending me back into the monotone chimes of reality.

I realize that I'm still in a memory... I didn't want to blink at all now. I don't want to leave my Wonderland, I don't want to go back into the real world. No, not anymore.

Fun times like these, I'd give my life to relive it ten fold, perhaps even more.

"What are you doing, Alice?" Mrs. Pricks, our caretaker, questioned me in her usual tone.

The scenery changed; we weren't in Oxford University anymore. We were in our garden, just beside the tall hedge where the mud puddles were usually found. I found myself in a memory where I behaved like the naughty little child I was.

"Young women don't play around in mud! Look how filthy your frock is!" She yelled, pointing at my formerly white dress.

My sister, Lizzie, watched over me in the gardens, reading boring logistics or economics books that made me yawn whenever she tried to enthuse me about them. She always sat on the right of the swing placed just two metres away from the puddles I'd often played in. Sometimes, I'd even catch her giggling whenever I tried to tempt her into playing with me.

"Your white frock had been stained by mud! That disgusting filthy brown colour!" Mrs. Pricks said in a high pitched voice.

I knew better than to oppose Mrs. Pricks, but even I knew that we weren't to comment on colour as such remarks would reach the public's ears if taken out of context. Father said so; told us that he made a mistake regarding mere colours, that it had caused him great shame back when he was a young lad, but he never got around to telling us what was it was he'd done.

I smiled, "Then why don't we make brown dresses?" I questioned her, making her step back at my rather 'strange' request, as she would word it.

"Brown dresses? Are you out of you mind?" She asked, irritated at my behaviour. "Don't you know it's Autumn? You girls should wear clean white dresses as your father had strictly instructed upon the season's first fall."

"But brown is such a lovely colour!"I threw my hands together and gave her a sweet smile. She flashed a grimace but restrained her expressions. Mrs. Pricks then threw her hands up in the air, as if she was conversing with the gods up above.

"Oh Dear Lords from the Heavens, what had I done to make me face such a child riddled with such indecency?!" The woman said, talking to the heavens as she slowly walked away, preaching to the gods about my 'indecency'.

I laughed and glanced back at Lizzie, who looked amused but struggled to shade it with an austere expression.

"It's not good to anger Mrs. Pricks." She said, her eyes locking with mine.

"Why is it when she has warts on her nose they have hair? Ms. Nancy doesn't have hair on her warts?" I asked to rile up her amusement.

She snickered, followed by a supposedly loud laugh and snorts but it was ceased when she covered her mouth, trying to cover up her laughter, but still obviously laughing.

"I don't know, Alice." Lizzie giggled. "But Nan once said that if we were to pull one strand out, her wart would pop!"

The image stopped again, and she too became a statue. Then everything became black but the sounds of burning and the smell of ashes invaded my nose as a new image settled.

I was in front of my home, crying like a child. One of the closer maids embraced me in her arms, knowing how absolutely terrified I was at the moment. Then a new image came again, and again, and again. One after another, they rushed into my mind, as if their trying to make my brain combust into flames. The Wonderland I saw was burning, ashes everywhere as the doll children coughed and wheezed, and everyone else was vanishing, as if they were no longer supposed to exist in my wonderland anymore, some of the doll children included.

Then, before they all disappeared, the final image found its way into my mind. It was me as a maid, surrounded by Oxford's citizens. They were laughing with seemingly empty smiles on their faces, their eyes as wide as an owl's.

No, I don't want to go back!

To those people, I was just an insane woman traumatized by fire; a woman tortured by her dark past.

I don't want to break free, I want to stay here.

In my wonderful, beautiful, and twisted Wonderland.

Ellie Peterson

I tossed and turned in my bed, mumbling words that I'd never remember, when I woke up to the sound of the window creaking open. My eyelids opened in fright, remembering the memories of that blasted night. The creaking sound made me utterly vulnerable whenever I was alone and secluded.

As if on sudden impulse, I scanned my room and found nothing but darkness. I sighed, getting up from my bed, putting my quilt aside to get off my bed and walk over to the window then shut it tight. I craned my head right and found a blade sitting in a glass case on top of my wooden dresser, the blade and handle are engraved with exquisite floral patterns. I jumped back with my eyes wide open.

That's not mine... I don't even recall ever owning a specific blade that looks professionally smithed! Hell, I don't even use blades at all!

It might not be yours... But that vorpal blade is mine.

I heard that voice in my mind again. She sounded British... And has a really complex vocabulary. I've heard this voice since, what, two months ago? It seems like she's from the Victorian era, judging by my... her recent dreams and visions. She says her name is Alice, and that she's living happily in her Wonderland now; having tea with the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, and playing croquet with the Queen of Hearts.

I'm not living happily at all, she drives me insane with her visions as my dreams!

Tsk. Tsk. Ellie Peterson, aren't you used to me already?

Hearing her voice oddly puts me at ease; she's like a voice of calming. Especially when she said the blade is hers, and I don't even know how she acquired it but I trust that it's really hers. And to be honest, I'm really used to her already.

I released a sigh and threw my hands up to stretch out and was going back to bed.

As I turned around, I almost froze at the sight; there was a tall man in my room, and he had a knife. His face was somewhat indescribably hard to even recognize at all if it was human or not, but he had a smile carved onto his face.

The knife glittered in the darkness as the moonlight from the window reflected on it's bloodstained surface. The blood was dried up, but looked eerie; as if the blood was still dripping wet.

Finally, my line of vision slowly met with his.

His eyes were enough to make me feel cold shivers up my spine.

Get ready, Ellie.

"Go. To. Sleep!" The man lunged towards me whilst laughing maniacally, his bloodied knife aimed and locked on to my chest.

I'm taking over!

Okay, my lovelies, behold...! A product of my boredom and my interests in the extremely repetitive but lovely game Alice: Madness Returns and the notorious Jeff the Killer from Creepypasta!

Just so you guys know, I only own the plot and Ellie Peterson and probably many other characters too, just not Alice Liddell and Jeff.

I actually don't know where to go from here but I'll find a way eventually. And yes. This is a romance.