Prologue

An Insane Asylum, Mississippi, 1920

Alice studied the moth with fascinated patience. Outwardly it was an ugly creature with a fuzzy body and coal complexion yet it was the wings that had captured her. As it lifted them slowly, Alice could see beautifully faded patterns covered their span. Her finger began lightly tracing the same pattern across the floor, as if hoping this would be enough to plant them in her memory.

There was no use looking for any sort of drawing materials – her room had been searched so many times she was surprised that there had been anything left. When the visions started coming during the first few days, all pencils and paper were removed. By the end of the first month, there was nothing left for her to fashion as a drawing tool.

Being careful not to disturb the creature, she rested her head on the wall. Her legs, pulled up against her chest, began to protest against the hard floor, but she refused to move. The moth flexed its wings a little quicker as if to take flight, and she went to stop it. Quickly correcting herself, Alice stayed glued against the wall praying the moth would not fly off. It settled again, seeming quite at ease perching on the bed railings.

Shaking her head, she looked about her room. Where was the moth to go? She was so worried it would escape but, casting a fleeting glance about the room, she knew there was no hope of freedom for the little thing, apart from the door. Alice rarely gave her surroundings any notice now, preferring the numbness of the drugs to the reality of being left where she was. Terrifying words crept into her head: abandoned, deserted, unloved.

The room seemed to echo these words from its bare furniture scattered around carelessly, to the thick grey walls surrounding her. There were no windows in this room and sometimes Alice fancied she had been born in the dark. Secretly though, she knew she had a home, a family and a name rather than a number. She tried to forget and make the pain of being there easier, a little more bearable. But, despite the sting of betrayal she felt towards her parents, she longed for the honey tones of home.

Outside she could hear the growing clacks of footsteps as the staff approached each of the rooms. Each neat click of the nurse's boots on the parquet floor made Alice's heart thud painfully in her chest. It would be getting dark outside now, the checks always signalled the end of the day. As if the moth heard her, it flew towards the door and agitatedly began to beat against it, as if trying to escape before the daylight ran away.

No way out, Alice thought. Still, she moved closer toward the wall, squeezing out any possible gap. The clacks sounded louder and they were now joined with the jangling of keys. If only she was like a limpet, she hoped, and could stick to the wall so no one could move her. But she knew that it was no use, and when the door opened she would have to go somewhere she didn't want. The nurses could be heard moving again and she heard their keys scratch against her door and she flinched as if they were scratching her.

Suddenly, a deep set of footsteps could be heard marching down the corridor. The keys stopped rattling and a mumbled conversation could be heard taking place outside. The tone of the voice made her realise it was a man, probably holding a clean white clipboard with a head full of a medical encyclopaedia. She had had a lot of those over the last few months, still this voice sounded...familiar.

Alice tried to trick her mind into ignoring it, trying to prepare herself for the mental and physical onslaught of the shocks. A silent sob broke out between her teeth, and it was only then she realised she was shaking. She brushed her hands up and down her arms, but she knew she was not cold. Being frightened was worse than being angry, and her body was going to give her away just the same as it had done the last 32 times she had undergone it. She had counted.

She buried her head between her knees and tried to control herself. It was then she realised the voices outside had died, and the door was being pulled open. Before she had time to look up, the man's smooth white face was in front of hers. He looked disturbed about something and checked back to the door. She stared at him in shock, and he clearly waited for a reaction that was taking longer than usual to come. Her eyes widened and a huge smile broke across her face.

'Joe!'

He smiled back, his buttery eyes seeming to light up like they once had. Alice sat with her mouth agape, and in the few seconds he stared at her she knew he hadn't truly left. Why did she ever think he had? Almost as quickly as it had arrived, the smile on his face vanished and his head whipped back to the door again. He took a short breath before turning back to her.

'Alice, I need to you listen carefully. We have to move fast.'

***

The moth threw its tiny body against the door, longing for the light. As the door burst open, a gust of air propelled it out of the room. Still searching for an escape, it flew down the dark corridor. Its wings flailed wildly against the walls and doors, until a chink of light offered itself from a distant window. Frantic the moth made towards it, towards its freedom – the last chance of escape.