Disclaimer: This story is based on characters that belong to Mrs. Stephenie Meyer.

Chapter 1
Born in Shadows

The darkness was black as pitch. There were no windows, and no doors. Each room was just a block, with no entrances and no exits. It wouldn't have been so awful had it been silent, but unfortunately, the air rang with strange, peculiar noises and despairing cries, people yelling for their families, the families who had sent them there in the first place.

Alice sat timidly in a corner, knees up against her chest. The long dress she had been wearing for the past month was already dirty and ragged, torn and ripped from the grasping hands that had reached for it when it had arrived.

When she had received it, it had been beautiful: plain enough, but better than what she was wearing at the time. Within just a few minutes, the insane folk who lived in the asylum left the beautiful dress half-destroyed. Alice finally put it on, but by then, the skirt was torn almost to shreds, one of the sleeves hung by a thread, and the bodice was ripped so that it rested at an uncomfortably low neckline.

Alice shivered as a chill passed through her. Her new dress had so many rips and tears in it that it did virtually nothing to improve upon the cold of the world around her. The black stones she sat upon were half-freezing, and the air around her seemed to envelop her in frigidity. She shuddered again.

She closed her eyes and did what she often did to escape the cold. To get her mind off the horrors of the present, she immersed herself in the past.

She pictured a day when she had been lying, carefree, on a brilliant green meadow, birds chirping happily, blue sky filled with clouds. She had been dressed in all her summer finery, a dress ten times as warm as the one she was wearing now, in the thick of winter.

She could remember that day flawlessly. It was the best day she had ever lived, empty of accusations and questions, just herself and the smiling golden sun.

Five years had passed since that day. In the space of that half-decade, her family had banished her to a land of shadows, of darkness. She had struggled to hide her premonitions for nearly a year, but one day, she experienced one at the dinner table. Her parents were scared, and without any real "examinations," she had been sent to the asylum. She had not left since.

Now, at sixteen, Alice was trapped in this horrible place. She was dwelling in a place of insanity, and she knew it.

Alice sighed, putting her head in her hands and closing her eyes, not that such an action helped at all – it was dark enough in there already.

"Dear," said a melodious, beautiful voice. "Don't fret. You are not alone."

"Who is it?" Alice asked frantically, looking around in vain.

"Darling, I am Eleanor," she informed Alice.

"I – I'm Alice," she replied, shaken. "W-what do you m-mean, I'm not alone?"

"You are not the only person in here who's still sane," Eleanor answered easily. "There are a few of us who are here for spite, or by choice – "

"By choice? You would have to be insane to come in here by choice!" Alice cried, then checked herself quickly. The long hours of loneliness had erased many of her memories of the past, and many more of her memories of what was considered "polite" in that day and age – e.g. "Don't speak until you are spoken to," et cetera.

"Alice, honey," Eleanor said soothingly, "some lives are even worse than the one you lead here."

"That is crazy," Alice began, but stopped herself once more, remembering the homeless poor she had seen living on the streets of her hometown, Biloxi. A silence persisted for a few long moments.

"So, little one, how long have you dwelt here?" Eleanor finally asked, disrupting the cloud of quiet that had descended on the two.

"Almost five years," replied Alice. "You?"

"Eleven," Eleanor admitted.

"Eleven!" Alice exclaimed.

"Yes," Eleanor calmly continued, "I have been living here for more than a decade. My sister, Sylva, was going insane, and my father's second wife's son – I refuse to name him as a brother of any kind – decided that we should send her here. I came here willingly to look after her. She and I have always had a wonderful relationship, even though she is five years older than I."

"How old are you?" Alice interrogated. "I am sixteen, I believe."

"I am twenty-three," Eleanor replied. "Yes, I came here at age twelve, but a year older than you were; my sister was eighteen and already losing sanity, precious sanity. Before her mental faculties went awry, she was wonderful, smart and kind and good. She was excellent in all that she undertook. A better sister no person could ever find. But what brings you to dwell in this sewer?"

"I have… premonitions, now and again. It scared my family, especially my younger sister, Cynthia – they believed that the devil had taken me, and they sent me here, so that we would cross paths no more," Alice said unhappily.

"Ah," Eleanor sighed. "Alice, darling, be not dismayed. Many people in this wretched building are not yet falling apart at the hinges. Come, I shall introduce you to a few of them."

"Very well," said Alice. A groping hand reached out and Alice nearly screamed until she realized that it belonged to Eleanor. She reached out for it and pulled herself up, nearly falling over again because of the cold that had cramped her muscles.

Eleanor's hand was nearly as cold as the stones of the floor. She led Alice across the dark, blocky structure, her feet producing no sound. Alice could feel how gracefully she was walking from the way her hand moved through the air.

"Clarence," she called. "Come meet Alice."

That began the first of a series of many introductions that would last long into the night. Alice was growing rather impatient toward the end of them.

"Alice, honey," said Eleanor's silky, melodious voice. "I think you ought to go to sleep. I will see you again in the morning."

"Goodnight, Eleanor," was Alice's drowsy answer. With a weary sigh, she walked zombie-like back to her little niche and collapsed there in sleep.

A.N. Well, that's the beginning of Born in Shadows! This story is not anywhere close to the top project on my agenda – that's The Course of Love – so updates will probably be erratic and infrequent, and the chapters probably rather short, just like this one. If you're reading this story, I would advise coming back to check on it every two days or so… though if I get enough reviews, I might speed it up to every day… you never know.

Thanks for reading,

Deineira

P.S. The Course of Love rule carries over to here: anyone who reviews gets free pie. In your review, feel free to tell me your favorite kind without fear of pie-flavor discrimination.

P.P.S. Thanks to all you guys who reviewed it already, on its first day of release. Bennet, Aiedail, you rock!