Title: Awakenings
Author: Casshirek
Summary: I've always heard people call Tweedledee and Tweedledum child molestors. o.O Or look like them, anyway, in the game. So here's an idea - why not make them such? And why not have Alice hurt them. All material copyrighted to American McGee and Lewis Caroll. Flames, comments, and definitely reviews should be directed to me. The latter are much desired. o.o Rated R for implications of rape and murder.
Alice, we need you.
Wide green eyes stared blindly into the featureless padded wall that stood opposite her. With slender hands calmly gathered into her lap, emaciated frame rigid and not slouched, she looked rather like a porcelain doll. If it were not for her breathing, she might as well have been one. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of wailing and demands for release. There were also the voices of the nurses and the doctors, the kind people who tried to keep everyone sane in this mad, mad place.
Wonderland needs you.
Dimly, she was aware of the whispers that gusted through her mind. She had heard them before. Many times, in fact, as she fell into sleep, but always they brought messages of forgotten joy. After a moment's consideration, she blinked. There were footsteps outside. As she listened, she made note of the heaviness of the step, the way the feet must drag against the floor as the person moved. Walking must have been a chore too because the breathing she heard outside was most ragged.
Alice, help us!
"Alice." Emerald eyes shot to a chubby, monstrous face. No light sparkled within the black eyes set deep within the folds of fat. No, there was only an unsatisfied hunger that had somehow targeted her. Had she the inclination to do so, she would have narrowed her lips till they were but a single red line on her face. But she did not and thus, she remained absolutely motionless.
"Alice." Another voice, deeper than the first, echoed. This one bore an ember of intelligence; the cunning of a starved bear rather than a human genius. The only indication that Alice noticed them was the way her eyes flicked to the other face. It was with little surprise that she noted that both were completely identical, right down to the wrinkles in their garments. "We need you."
But still, she did not move.
An enormous hand pressed against the hollow of her throat, forcing her down onto her back. She complied. Eyes took in the filthy ceiling, speckled with traces of darkest umber. For a moment, she wondered:
Was that blood?
Fingers ran inquisitively down her body, pausing to dwell upon the narrow curves of her bosom. Unlike other teenagers, she was more child than woman, with endowments that suited the former. Nonetheless, it was impossible not to tell she had grown. As the thick hand moved to her hips, she resisted the temptation to flinch aside. Surprisingly gentle was the pressure exherted to spread her legs.
A zipper's passage broke the silence.
Something glimmered.
"Now, little miss, you're not going to say a word." Cold steel pressed against her thin throat in warning. Though she fought against the instincts, she found her breathing more ragged now. The need to survive throbbed in her veins.
... the need to kill.
Survival of the fittest.
What a concept it was to her. Blade pressed against her artery was given an inquisitive look that did not reflect upon her features. She felt strange.
Hungry.
Images floated through her mind - fire, swirling fire that ate through porcelain flesh and hair of deepest brown, blood and cuts and the dismembered kitten she found when she was three outside their house. Was it really as disgusting as people made it to be? Eyes took in the dark stains on the ceiling before a heavy shadow eclipsed her vision. Into the face of a monster she stared with an unflinching emerald gaze.
Would she end like the others?
Alice knew what happened to the other girl-children. She had heard people talk outside her room, whispering in sadness and in wonder. She had heard the twins converse about their exploits too. Would she be broken too? Raped till naught was less of her dignity and then killed in the name of perverse pleasure?
Would she *allow* that to happen?
Mine.
Her decision was made as weight crushed her brittle thighs. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard a scream of possessive rage. Mine, that phantom had said. Mine, it had shouted in the voice of a cat.
Mine!
The pressure vanished.
Distantly, Alice became aware of the splatter of warmth against her cheek and the smell of something coppery. There were screams, somewhere but she remained indifferent. Movements was caught in green eyes but given no heed. Only the knife, forgotten when a night-and-smoke cat struck, earned any note.
Pick it up, Alice.
She obeyed.
Do you know how to use it?
She did.
Then use it.
* * *
Drip-drip.
Blood trickled from the ceilings in sticky rivulets, gathering in puddles upon the crimsom floor. The walls were smeared with the red fluid, dressed in curious patterns that spoke of some happy tale. Two motionless bodies, without skin nor features, awashed with that glorious red ambrosia, formed a throne for a girl in blue and white. In one hand she held a butcher's knife. In the other, a black-striped grey kitten slept. For the first time in many years, Alice smiled.
Drip-drip-drip.
The door creaked open.
"Would you .." Alice whispered her first words in ten years. ".. like some tea?"
~FIN
Author: Casshirek
Summary: I've always heard people call Tweedledee and Tweedledum child molestors. o.O Or look like them, anyway, in the game. So here's an idea - why not make them such? And why not have Alice hurt them. All material copyrighted to American McGee and Lewis Caroll. Flames, comments, and definitely reviews should be directed to me. The latter are much desired. o.o Rated R for implications of rape and murder.
Alice, we need you.
Wide green eyes stared blindly into the featureless padded wall that stood opposite her. With slender hands calmly gathered into her lap, emaciated frame rigid and not slouched, she looked rather like a porcelain doll. If it were not for her breathing, she might as well have been one. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of wailing and demands for release. There were also the voices of the nurses and the doctors, the kind people who tried to keep everyone sane in this mad, mad place.
Wonderland needs you.
Dimly, she was aware of the whispers that gusted through her mind. She had heard them before. Many times, in fact, as she fell into sleep, but always they brought messages of forgotten joy. After a moment's consideration, she blinked. There were footsteps outside. As she listened, she made note of the heaviness of the step, the way the feet must drag against the floor as the person moved. Walking must have been a chore too because the breathing she heard outside was most ragged.
Alice, help us!
"Alice." Emerald eyes shot to a chubby, monstrous face. No light sparkled within the black eyes set deep within the folds of fat. No, there was only an unsatisfied hunger that had somehow targeted her. Had she the inclination to do so, she would have narrowed her lips till they were but a single red line on her face. But she did not and thus, she remained absolutely motionless.
"Alice." Another voice, deeper than the first, echoed. This one bore an ember of intelligence; the cunning of a starved bear rather than a human genius. The only indication that Alice noticed them was the way her eyes flicked to the other face. It was with little surprise that she noted that both were completely identical, right down to the wrinkles in their garments. "We need you."
But still, she did not move.
An enormous hand pressed against the hollow of her throat, forcing her down onto her back. She complied. Eyes took in the filthy ceiling, speckled with traces of darkest umber. For a moment, she wondered:
Was that blood?
Fingers ran inquisitively down her body, pausing to dwell upon the narrow curves of her bosom. Unlike other teenagers, she was more child than woman, with endowments that suited the former. Nonetheless, it was impossible not to tell she had grown. As the thick hand moved to her hips, she resisted the temptation to flinch aside. Surprisingly gentle was the pressure exherted to spread her legs.
A zipper's passage broke the silence.
Something glimmered.
"Now, little miss, you're not going to say a word." Cold steel pressed against her thin throat in warning. Though she fought against the instincts, she found her breathing more ragged now. The need to survive throbbed in her veins.
... the need to kill.
Survival of the fittest.
What a concept it was to her. Blade pressed against her artery was given an inquisitive look that did not reflect upon her features. She felt strange.
Hungry.
Images floated through her mind - fire, swirling fire that ate through porcelain flesh and hair of deepest brown, blood and cuts and the dismembered kitten she found when she was three outside their house. Was it really as disgusting as people made it to be? Eyes took in the dark stains on the ceiling before a heavy shadow eclipsed her vision. Into the face of a monster she stared with an unflinching emerald gaze.
Would she end like the others?
Alice knew what happened to the other girl-children. She had heard people talk outside her room, whispering in sadness and in wonder. She had heard the twins converse about their exploits too. Would she be broken too? Raped till naught was less of her dignity and then killed in the name of perverse pleasure?
Would she *allow* that to happen?
Mine.
Her decision was made as weight crushed her brittle thighs. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard a scream of possessive rage. Mine, that phantom had said. Mine, it had shouted in the voice of a cat.
Mine!
The pressure vanished.
Distantly, Alice became aware of the splatter of warmth against her cheek and the smell of something coppery. There were screams, somewhere but she remained indifferent. Movements was caught in green eyes but given no heed. Only the knife, forgotten when a night-and-smoke cat struck, earned any note.
Pick it up, Alice.
She obeyed.
Do you know how to use it?
She did.
Then use it.
* * *
Drip-drip.
Blood trickled from the ceilings in sticky rivulets, gathering in puddles upon the crimsom floor. The walls were smeared with the red fluid, dressed in curious patterns that spoke of some happy tale. Two motionless bodies, without skin nor features, awashed with that glorious red ambrosia, formed a throne for a girl in blue and white. In one hand she held a butcher's knife. In the other, a black-striped grey kitten slept. For the first time in many years, Alice smiled.
Drip-drip-drip.
The door creaked open.
"Would you .." Alice whispered her first words in ten years. ".. like some tea?"
~FIN