Title: flickering
Prompt: Prompt 11—The Cellar
Character/Pairing: Alice, Alyss, mentions of Jack, Oz, Cheshire, and Glen (Oswald)
Warnings: Mentions of blood/injuries.
A/N: A companion piece to static (the piece I submitted after this)
Word Count: 1041
Summary: Alice, Alice, Alice. When did that turn into Jack, Jack Jack?
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"It's darker," Alyss comments, staring idly out of their playpen and into the abyss. The bright lights are still there, of course. Each small orb lighting the way to another friend, another area.
But there are fewer. So much fewer. It's like seeing a constellation die out.
Really? Alice replies, trying to catch Chesire. He's hiding under a table, low to the ground and hissing. The cat has never liked her, not even the first time they met, and Alyss sighs.
"That isn't going to make Chesire like you."
Alice snorts, on her knees now and stretching her hand under the table. If he doesn't like me, I'll just eat him then.
"And that is why he doesn't like you." Alyss shakes her head. "Anyways, you haven't noticed?"
Well, a little I guess, Alice admits, halting her movements. I dunno, it seems a little emptier, sometimes.
It's a slowly invading darkness. Alyss refrains from replying, from correcting. Maybe it's just in her head.
No, it has to be more than this.
Alyss can feel it, feel it in her marrow. Something is twisting the abyss, contorting it. Something is eating at its edges.
Something is eating at her edges. She hasn't been able to admit this, not to Alice, not yet. She's not sure what she'd say anyways. Sometimes she thinks she's fading into nothing, dissolving like salt in water.
Sometimes she thinks she's turning into someone else, but that's a fear she doesn't want to face.
"What do you think, Oz?"
Oz tilts his head, focusing on the abyss now. Of course he was in the human world—Alice plays with him more than she does. It feels different, he agrees, his words slow and hard to come. It's not a natural state to him, to talk. To feel. It's all new and she can see the hesitation as he tries to find the words for things he can't understand.
"Thank you," she replies, petting his head. "That's all I needed."
"Thank you—"
Alyss blinks, and Oz isn't in her hands anymore. The world outside is dark, Cheshire is bleeding out in her arms. A pair of scissors lies nearby, blood dried on its handles.
"What?" She stares at the silver blades, at the way they glint in the pale candle light. There's a pool of red, a pool that slowly trails up her lap and to her pet.
Her cat's eyes are sealed shut, and as she gingerly touches them, she realizes what happened here.
"Oh, Chesire," she cries. He's weak, so weak, mewing plaintively and she gives him whatever comfort she can. "I'm here. I'm here."
Vincent did this, she knows he did. Vincent and his cruel smiles and sharp words, it's like he stabs her every time they meet. His brother is no better, only weaker and they both must have done it.
Why do they try to do this to her? Why are they so mean? She only ever wanted to be friends. Alyss should have known better—anyone who is friends with Oswald can't be good.
Except for Jack. Only Jack. Golden Jack who promises to save her, to free her. Jack can help her. Help her revenge.
She knows he can.
(Alice, she almost calls, she almost thinks. Alice, this isn't right. I shouldn't do this. I shouldn't want this. Alice, what is happening? Why am I here now? What happened?
Alice, I think I'm lost. I think I've been lost a long time.)
Chesire mews pitifully. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, returning her attention to her faithful companion. Oz watches from nearby, horrified, and she gives him a bitter smile.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you."
And she can still protect Cheshire. All he needs is new eyes. Jack can give him that.
"I'll protect you," she promises again, and Cheshire's ears twitch. He turns his head up to face her and ooh, it looks so much worse head on. The scar, the blood, she can see just where the scissors gouged into his head.
She closes her eyes from the sight and the core is next to her, welcoming her home. It's so quiet here now, so quiet and empty. Like a star went supernova. Like a sun collapsed.
Alyss reaches out into the darkness, her fingers slipping between the soft glows. No, she was right before. When she was talking to Alice that time—when was that? When was it all?
Yesterday?
She isn't sure, not anymore. Just, the abyss is darker, her toybox is broken. The toys are spilling out and she can't put them back in.
The core clings to her as she moves, a lost child. A second arm. It's almost natural to let it stay there but they aren't supposed to be so close. Or maybe they should be. It doesn't feel bad.
Alyss?
A voice jars her from her thoughts. "Alice?"
I'm with Oswald—I don't care if he wants me to call him Glen, he's Oswald. We're having a tea party—you weren't listening earlier. Were you sleeping? Oh, and I guess Jack will come. If you want to talk to him.
"Jack?" His name alone quickens her heart, makes her smile. Jack is coming. To a tea party. He promised to visit her. He did.
Jack is coming and Alice will switch and no, no, no, this isn't right.
Something is twisting the abyss. Twisting her. These feelings in her—they're too powerful, too controlling.
"Alice?" Alyss can feel her sanity slip, her clarity cloud. This is it, she knows, a last moment to save herself. To save everything.
"Alice!" There's no time and her sister isn't replying. Are her words not reaching her? Maybe she's imagining this too. Maybe this is all just a long dream. "Alice!"
Save me, Alice. Help me. Alice. Alice. Alice.
The moment slips, fades away. Alyss falls into the rabbit hole, leaving her Sunday afternoons and sister behind.
"Jack," she calls out and she can't remember a time she would have said otherwise.