Notes: Song lyrics are from Danny Elfman: "Alice's Theme." Alice: Madness Return quotes scattered within.

"Did someone pull you by the hand?

How many miles to Wonderland?"

Five-score miles and ten, or so Mum would always whisper in my ear as she brushed my hair for me, never pulling or hurting. She'd never hurt her little Alice. She'd never hurt Lizzie either, of course, but I was her youngest. I was special. Little Alice girl in her torn-up stockings and her grubby dress. Mum loved reading Alice in Wonderland to me. She never tired of it, pulling me into her rocking chair when I was small to tell me of shoes and ships and sailing wax, of cabbages and kings. About the Queen of Hearts and her pilfered tarts, and the perpetual tea party deep in the woods. About little lost Alice, trying to find her way in a sea of rabbits and hatters and cards.

It enthralled me as a child and I suppose, in a way, it still does. But little lost Alice has grown up, you see, and has found that the only way to Wonderland is to tiptoe through the broken remnants of your own soul.

But I digress.

My name is Alice Liddell, and I am alone in this world. Mum and Father, Lizzie, all gone in a tragic house fire. It nearly claimed me as well, but a well-meaning neighbour pulled me out, choking on smoke and grasping my stuffed rabbit so tightly, I nearly bruised my fingers. Children don't understand death, not well, but I knew I wanted to die. I was meant to expire in the thick, low-hanging smoke and the flickering bright flames with the rest of my family. The Centaur told me so.

But of course I couldn't tell anyone that. They'd think I was mad! I suppose they thought I was mad anyway, since I was packed off to Rutledge as soon as my burns healed. Wretched place, that asylum. Don't let anyone ever try and tell you differently. Not a decent person in the lot, although I suppose a few tried. I was glad to be shed of that place when I turned eighteen. Walking through the front gates, bold as you please, and shaking the dust off my heels as I went. Still clutching my rabbit.

There's nowhere for a mad girl, though. Not in London. Is it any wonder I ended up back in Dr. Bumby's care? Forget, Alice, he always says in his droning voice. Dangling the pocket watch in front of my eyes like the glitter of the chain will erase my thoughts. Memory is a curse far more often than it is a blessing. Forget.

I can't, though. He always wants me to, but I can't. How can I forget Father, with his booming laugh and the way he'd always pretend to search his pockets for a peppermint candy before pulling it out with the air of an accomplished magician and popping it into my delighted mouth? Or Mother, and the gentle way she brushed my hair and read me glorious tales of my name sake? Or dear Lizzie, with her striking face and even more striking looks, and the kindness she'd bestow on her wretched little sister?

Forget? If I forget, I lose everything. I lose myself. And in this criss-crossed madcap Wonderland, I dare not even think of it.

Oh, did I forget to mention? Wonderland is real. As real as the scuffs on the toes of my boots, the perpetual rip in my stockings, and the blue ribbon threaded through my hair. A tradition my mother started and one I never fail to uphold.

Dr. Bumby scoffs at me, although he never fails to mention that if Wonderland helps me forget, I should stay there in perpetuity. Rotten creature. His spectacles haunt my dreams, and the ticking of that damned pocket-watch. Tick tock, tick tock. Forget, Alice. Forget.

Matron thinks me mad, but that's nothing new. The orphans taunt me, calling me little mad Alice and pulling at my dress with dirty fingers, no matter how I curse at them. I suppose I shouldn't. It's not like they're far off, are they? I've lost my way, and I don't know if I shall ever find it again.

But there's only one place to look, isn't there?

Wonderland.