Author's Note:
Hello! Welcome to my first full Naruto story...ever! *insert a dramatic Dr. Orpheus voice and his dramatic music here* Err, excuse that, it was needed. Also, if you know what that's from...you win.
Anyway...this is based off the lovely game, American McGee's: Alice, which is a PC game depicting a mentally-ill Alice trying to regain her sanity from defeating her now villainous friends.
It's a...weird game, to be honest. But I love it. Also the sequel to it is coming out soon! YAY!
I tried to include some Victorian sayings and phrases. Chavy = Child, and it's mainly used by the lower class, so when Hinata uses lower-class phrases, she's rebelling against her upbringing. This chapter is a bit bland, as it's just a bit of background on the story. After this chapter, I'm throwing you into how Hinata ended up into the asylum.
Flashbacks, love them or hate them, there's going to be a lot in this story.
Warnings for this fanfiction: There will be violence, mental illness, insanity, a possible pedophile and several other things... XD
I fell into a Wonderland headfirst
into my disaster, downfall
falling fast, can you catch me?
Too late, dear, and much too little.
My childhood was a bit abnormal, I suppose. I was an eccentric little chavy, even compared to the standards of others. I lived, breathed and dreamed in my ever-so imaginative head as Wonderland was so much colorful than the cold, rigid, Victorian England I knew. My father would often scold me, as I was to be a proper Victorian lady or else the suitors would not knock upon our door. (Of course, as he would often tell me from a young age, I was quite unsuitable for marriage regardless of the fact and that was just one of my many, many, countless flaws.) My mother, however, encouraged me nearly every day. She was always like that. For one of my birthdays, against Father's wishes, she gave me a beautiful illustrated picture book of my tales made by her friend, John Tenniel. Oh, how I adored that book! Often I slept with it resting in my arms. Other children slept with a doll, while I slept with a hardcover book!
My sister, who adored me so much she would await my return from the market, would eagerly await my tales from Wonderland. To this day, I clearly remember her sitting on her knees (quite an outrage, father had exclaimed, but he 'let it go,' as he adored her much more than he adored myself.) and leaning in as I recalled my adventures in Wonderland. Her dark and glittering eyes would light up as I told her about the Cat and the Hatter. She would laugh her tiny, delightful laugh and clap her slender hands together in happiness. I wonder why I had survived, when she—a delightful little child, more so than I had been—had her life slain so quickly and in such a painful way.
Wonderland. There could be no words to describe it. As a child, I longed to live in that mad, mad world. I am quite sure every other child—if they had known it—would have wanted it as well. It welcomed me with open arms and embraced my ever-looming insanity.
Wonderland. It was my downfall. It cost me my family. As I dreamed of Wonderland, as I took tea with the Hatter and the March Hare, they—my family, my mother and father and baby sister—roasted alive. I—having slept on the ground floor, while the elders and the favorite slept upstairs—barely escaped. And only when I sat, dazed and shocked, staring at the flames engulfing the first floor, did I realize that they were still in there.
Life. If you could call it that, as it was hardly a life after that particular incident. I did not exist. (Oh! How father would yell, had he heard me say that. How could one not exist? Silly girl!) How could I, when my mother—the one who accepted my flaws and encouraged me to reach for the stars—was decaying in the ground? How could I when my baby sister would never grow up to reach her full potential? How could I, Hinata Alice, survive, when I was a weak, awkward child?
And of course, there's the matter of my father. Many times, I often wished ill upon him. I remember as a child fuming and screeching terrible things at him through tears. Still to this day, I realize that this—my silly vengeful wishing—most likely was one of the things that had cost me my family. Am I to blame? Certainly, to a degree. I certainly never wished death upon my father. I, most definitely, did not wish for the death of my dear mother and beloved sister; yet, I could have warned them of the danger. I could have saved them from burning, am I correct?
Perhaps that's what drove me into the insane asylum. Or perhaps I was already insane. I shan't explain well, but from what I have read, it runs in the family. My mother...her sister, Alice Liddell, went quite mad. We would never speak of her, but mother would sometimes let the childhood memories slip through her heavily guarded tongue.
Alice. Hmm, perhaps it runs in a name. Maybe that is why I refuse to let the Doctors call me Alice, and insist that they call me Hinata?
Yes, Alice anything to take the blame away, hmm?
Another author's note:
Next chapter will be the fire and maybe even the Victorian Asylum.
The Akatsuki will be introduced in either the next chapter or the chapter after that. I'm having a hard time deciding who should be what characters.
Hidan will most likely be the Hatter, as in this story...he goes really insane.
For the Cheshire cat, I was deciding whether or not Itachi or Deidara should be him. There's so many good points for both characters at the Cat, but I'm very indecisive. xD
(Also, pairings are undecided too.)
I don't know when I'm going to update next, I'm swamped with school work and also have bad writers' block. D:
Thanks for reading, though!