[A/N] Shalala. Uh. Wrote this one day while waiting for the Twilight movie. :] Alice's experience to and in the asylum. o.o

If I screwed up with anything, do tell. I don't remember who owns the dude who helps Alice out in the asylum. LMAO. Read all the way through, even though it's horrifically long. xD

Disclaimer: I don't own any concept of Twilight.

Claimer: Uh. I own this?

"No! Help me!"

My family paid no attention to me as the burly men pulled me to the cart, which would take me to the asylum in Biloxi.

"Help me..." I whispered. "Please." Only my mother seemed to show remorse as I was being dragged away. Tears streamed down her face, but no, she didn't come to get me. I remembered about hearing someone screaming, but I never thought it would be me one day, being dragged off to an asylum.

"Mary Alice?"

The voice of the executioner.

My voice was weak and raspy, as I hadn't had a drop to drink in the past few hours. The horse driver spoke for me.

"Yes. This be the one."

"The one with the visions?"

"The strange one? Then, yes."

'The strange one?' Bah. I wasn't strange. I just had a gift. But I was shunned from all society, as the ones here. I could hear their bloodcurdling screams and pointless rambling. I was perfectly normal, except for those visions.

Those damn visions. The ones that got me here in the first place. Didn't I keep them well hidden enough? The only ones who ever knew about my visions were my family. Although I did appear to stare pointlessly at nothing sometimes, was that evidence enough for the people of my town to truly believe I was deranged?

I was stopped from thinking at this point, as my executioner stuffed some clothes into my thin arms.

"Those are your new wardrobe," he said with a smirk. "And your cell."

He pointed toward a barred thing, with another muscular man waiting. The man looked a bit terrifying. His light blonde hair was tied into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. And his eyes- the brightest shade of red I ever came by. Odd. [A/N: Guess who? :D]

I was shoved into my new home, and the executioner, who was the manager of this hellhole, smirked again.

I skipped agilely back and forth my cell, testing the lumpy mattress, the small sink, and the cracked mirror.

God, I looked hideous.

Then they pulled me back out. They grabbed my clothes, and dragged me off to another room where there was a tub, an abnormally large pair of shears, and two women wearing sad smiles. What cheered me was that this asylum did have women working here. Then my happiness was drained as I overheard the men talking- the Treatment.

Dammit.

I had visions of this before too, a tub of brownish yellow liquid (which turned out to be turpentine), bald heads, and itchy clothes. The women first dumped my head into the tub, and I held my breath just as the men left the room. They held me there until I almost ran out of air. Then they stripped off my clothes and put me into the tub. My voice was still raspy, so I could only manage a weak scream as the turpentine stung my many cuts from the townspeople.

"The mites," one of them muttered. Bah. Mites.

I had enough sense to put on the clothes as soon as I got out of the tub. Though they were itchy, they gave me a sense of calm. For the moment, at least. Then a man came through the doors and pinned me to a chair. A woman took a shaving knife, and cut of my hair. I was a bit amazed how they even got my head to an even baldness with those. Then I was rushed to my cell. I did, however, manage to steal back my old clothes without them noticing, and a loaf of bread from a nearby table.

I had a feeling I would need it later.

Back in my cell, I noticed some changes to my room.

There was a candle on the table by my bed, and a thin sheet and grey pillow on my bed. There was a tub and cloth in the corner of my cell, and soap by the sink.

Just like home, I thought with a grimace. I was so funny.

I laid on my bed, and an hour later, I saw food being poked through the hole in my door. Bread, soup, and water. Yum. Good thing I was used to this much at home. I saw a man leave through the bars, and it was the same man who was standing by my cell when I first came here.

The longer I stayed here, the more it felt like my true home. I quickly became used to the screams, and figured out how my visions worked. Sort of.

I never had visions of the man with red eyes, or the other man with red eyes. Those two were the main people who came to give me food. Whenever the one with blond hair came over, he'd have this glint in his eye, like I was worth something to him. The older one was the only nice person to me, and sometimes snuck me some extra food. But his always seemed to resent the man with blond hair. I never knew why, until one day.

[A/N] Um. Yeah. Reviews make me happy. :D

Shalala. The Juice can fly.

Think it's weird? Too long? Review anyways. :D