I don't own any form of Alice.

"You miss it, don't you? All the time? When you're staring at cold, hard, gray walls, you have to miss it."

But I don't. I can't.

"It must be hard, to go from Fairyland to reality."

Wonderland, actually. And it was just as real as this.

"Come now, Alice, you can tell me. I'm only trying to help."

Of course you are.

"Honestly, Alice. What would help you?"

Not being here would be a start.

"Would you like to go outside? Take a nice walk in the sun? If you take your medicine, I might be able to arrange something."

It wouldn't help. I'm not insane or deluded or wrong.

"It will help you come back to the real world."

It is real. Always has been.

"Alice, I know this is difficult for you to comprehend, but eventually all little girls must grow up."

I have. I grew up in Wonderland.

"People think you mad, Alice."

No, that's the Hatter.

"They always will, unless you give up this child's delusion."

So just because I'm a child, it can't be real?

"This world you have invented for yourself is not real, Alice."

What, because you've never been there?

"You fell down and hit your head and had a dream, but that is all. It's time to move on."

You'll never know – never understand: I can't.

"You have to live in the real world, Alice."

It is. And it's a part of me, irrevocably and senselessly and perfectly. And all so completely real.

"If you don't start to realize that, I have been authorized to begin with more... severe methods of treatment."

Curiouser and curiouser. You actually think that might work. Might make me normal.

I'd die first.

"So I'm giving you one last chance, Alice. Tell me that you know you had a dream."

But it wasn't.

"Tell me that you know that blasted place was not real."

But it is.

"Tell me that you're going to be a good little girl and grow up."

But I'm not. I already have.

"Alice, tell me this and take your medicine and everything will be good and normal and wonderful again."

Is that what you want to hear?

Do you even realize that's different for me. That Wonderland's my wonderful?

"I promise."

Oh, do you, now?

"Will you do this for me? Will you believe me?"

Ha.

"I think I'd like to go back to my cell now, Doctor."

Yeah, so that was... interesting.

Whatever. I just hope my mom likes it. Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

The rest of you should review, yeah?

3 Gryffindorable