Hello, readers! Time for the second chapter of this story. This chapter's going to have more content than the last, as well as introduce some of the unreleased content/artwork for the game, in the form of one specific place.

Now, I know this story's had a not-so-productive start, but I plan to add more and more interesting things as each chapter is posted. If you are interested in the story, please keep watch. I promise it will get more interesting!

DISCLAIMER! Alice: Madness Returns is owned by Spicy Horse and Electronic Arts (EA). The 'American McGee' series is owned by their creators, including unreleased content for these games. The author owns any OC's and custom elements introduced into the story.

Onward to the Chapter!

I stick close to Bumby as we move through London's streets, casting quick glances at the people around me. They don't look any better from the people I saw yesterday, and it only gets worse as we walk back into the slums I woke up in yesterday. Apparently, this is the 'East End' District. I may be more used to the smell, but I still don't like to smell it. Bumby doesn't seem to mind it, probably since he's lived here for much longer than me; at least, longer than I can remember.

Everyone we pass seems uglier than Bumby, in some way. One woman in a flamboyant dress has a wrinkled face and pointy nose, a butcher has too many cuts along his arms, and a man begging for money by a street corner has a black stump where a leg once was. Compared to them, Bumby seems quite nice to look at, though a quick glance in his direction shows he pays no attention to these people.

We soon arrive at Houndsditch; a two-story brick building attached to two other brick buildings on either side. A tall iron fence surrounds the front, a small archway hangs over a gate entrance, and a set of grime-covered marble decorates the bottom-right area. A copper sign hangs to the right of the gate with the words, "HOUNDSDITCH HOME FOR WAYWARD YOUTH" and, "DR. ANGUS BUMBY, PROF.". As we go through the gate, we pass by a young boy with blond hair wearing a dirty grey coat, brown shorts, black shoes, and an apron with the number "8" on it.

"I'll get the paperwork set up for you in the lobby," Bumby says to me as we enter through a thick wooden door. "Vacancies don't last long, here."

I question what he means by that as I shut the door behind me and take a look around. There isn't much to see; the walls look quite moldy and faded, the wooden floor creaking as I slowly walk around. A piano stands to one side of the room, but there's no one playing it.

A few other children, all wearing faded clothing similar to the boy outside, play with an old wooden dollhouse and some dolls. They don't seem to notice me as I slowly take in the sights. There's also another, smaller room to the right of this main room. This smaller room might be the one with the marble decorations, or some kind of storeroom. Before I can take a look, though, Bumby reappears and beckons me into the lobby.

The lobby looks the same as the main room, save for a large dark brown cabinet behind a wooden desk and chair that holds what looks like several piles of documents. Bumby sits on the chair, looking over a piece of paper in his hands. A circular portrait hangs on the wall away from the window, showing Dr. Bumby with several other orphans, all of them with numbered aprons around their necks and expressionless faces.

"That portrait took a long while to complete," Bumby suddenly explains, apparently seeing me look at it. "Those children are the most well-behaved ones here, but not all of them are here anymore. As I said, vacancies don't last long at Houndsditch.

"Now," he continues while placing a paper on the desk. "This is a simple contract I write up for all arrivals at Houndsditch. It states that this is your home for the time being, that you will not mistreat the other occupants here, and so on. As I said before, I'll also be helping you regain your memories while you're here; you can repay that by finding a job here, or somewhere in East End that I approve of. You will live in the boy's dorm on the second floor, for now. We will have daily therapy sessions, starting today.

"Normally, you would need to sign your name on the bottom to fully approve this contract. However, since you don't remember your name, I shall leave it blank. Recovering your name will be one of the first things I'll help you with, so that this contract can be signed. Do you agree to these terms?"

I am confused at Bumby calling these rules 'terms'. It sounds like he's trying to gain an upper hand on me, or just stating things because he's the head of the place. No, no, that can't be right. Besides, I don't really have much of a choice, here. It's either stay in this place under these rules, or go back onto the London streets and probably get arrested again. I don't really have much of an option.

"I agree, Doctor."

"Excellent." Bumby places the contract on a top section of the cabinet. "The boy's dorm is on the second floor, separate from the girl's dorm. Meals are served to everyone at the same times. Go and wash up; our first session will start soon in my office." I nod to Bumby and head up to the second floor, the stairs up next to a small room on the right. I choose not to explore it right now.

The boy's dorm is on the left side of the second floor. A large table beside the door shows a newspaper that I take a moment to look through. It has articles about rampant criminals like 'Jack Splatter', a government decision by London's 'Parliament' to develop a railway station in East End, and many other negatively-sounding stories. I place it back on the table, and move on into the boy's dorm room.

There are several other boys here; they all wear gray clothes, and dirty faces, with varying hair styles and eye colors. The beds are bunked along each corner of the large room, simple white sheets and coverings providing resting space. The room's furniture consists of a more broken wooden horse, a record player, two carpets with holes in them, and a few drawers. Muted sunlight streams in through a window.

My arrival makes every boy look at me with the same dismissive gaze. They turn back to their individual activities a second later. I move to the only empty bed, which is the below the bed of a boy with a large mole on his left cheek, gray eyes, and ruffled black hair. He draws on a piece of paper, with drawings of angry humans or monsters on the walls.

"Excuse me," I ask him as politely as I can. "Where can I wash up?"

He blinks at me for several long seconds before he finally says, "'Loo's at the end of the hall."

I nod in thanks, and quickly head over to a single wooden door at the hall's end, marked with a fading symbol of a male and female. I don't dawdle on the look of the bathroom as I move over to the mirror, but I do dawdle on how my actual face looks.

I now realize what made just about everyone I've met look at me strangely. It's not my small nose, thin lips, pale skin, or my short hair colored as brown as the brick that makes up the buildings here. No, it's my eyes; more specifically, their bright green color, the pupils like black dots on a green canvas.

I blink, and my pupils shift in size for a split second. I break my gaze away after a few more test blinks, and take a small towel hanging by the mirror. It's the best option to wipe the grime and drool off my face with, so I use it.

With my face cleaner than before, I step back into the hall to find Bumby just walking down it from the stairs. He points to another door at the hall's end that I hadn't noticed before, and I head over there. I wait for Bumby to get there, and step in after him.

Bumby's office seems much more refined than any other room, even with the walls being the same faded state. Red curtains hang by the multiple windows, a large grandfather clock between two of them. Pottery rests on pedestals, and on top of a large glass cabinet filled with books and sculptures. A globe rests beside an ornate wooden desk, and a large plush red chair sits behind that. A small golden bell rests on the desk, its color catching my eye. The center of the room is filled with a long couch that shines in the sunlight, the back angled upward.

"Sit down, or lie down," Bumby instructs me. "Whichever is more comfortable for you." I move to the couch and, after a quick moment to think, lie down on my back.

The couch's seat instantly soothes my muscles, several times better than the hard floor in gaol. Bumby draws up a small chair, grabs the bell from his desk, and moves beside me as I stretch my legs for a moment.

"I have several different methods to help with memories," the doctor explains as he reaches into his coat pocket. "We'll start with one I've found particularly useful recently; hypnotherapy." Bumby then draws out an old key tied to a string, like a pendant or necklace. The key has a circular end, and two hanging sections at the end for a specific lock.

"Before we begin," Bumby says as he holds up the bell, "if things get too dangerous in your mind, I will use this bell to wake you up." He rings it a few times, and my ears ring in response as he places it in his pocket. He then holds the key by its string, and begins to wave it back and forth.

"Now, keep your eyes on the key," he tells me. "Follow its motion closely. Focus on the slow, steady movement; let all other thoughts and concerns fade away."

I try my best, my immediate concern about what's going to happen to me overshadowed by the feeling that this will help me, one way or another. Bumby continues to talk as I follow the key's back-and-forth movement in time with my breath, his words blending together the longer he speaks.

My eyelids start to feel heavy, my body sinking into the couch. Bumby's words now sound like water flowing through my ears. My eyes fully close as I feel a weight being lifted off my chest, my body going limp on the couch.

"Tell me what you see," I hear Bumby say as I open my eyes in a different place.

I stand, once again, in a dark void. Black surrounds me on all sides, but it doesn't consume me like that black muck did. There's nothing on the horizon, nothing immediately in front of me; I'm alone. For some reason, that doesn't upset me.

"Isolating what's bad is important to your recovery." I hear Bumby say, his voice echoing across the blackness. I suspect he is responding to what I'm saying in reality, since he told me to tell him what I saw. Funny, I can't tell what I'm saying to him, here; is my mind that separated from my body?

I let the questions slide as I notice a glimmer of white in the distance. I look right at it, and the glimmer turns into a humanoid figure, but it's too far away for me to tell how it looks. I walk towards it, but don't get any closer, which quickly agitates me. This figure seems important, my gut tells me, I need to reach it as soon as possible.

"Ah, this is good," Bumby declares. "Reaching something is important. It's one of the first big steps you need to take."

I run towards the figure, but even that doesn't work. I pound my feet against the invisible ground, pushing my body faster, but the figure is always as far away as before.

"You shouldn't be here, you know."

I stop in my tracks as the voice I heard back in gaol, with that blood-filled eye, speaks to me. Is it trying to stop me?

"Don't let anything distract you," Bumby warns me. "If you fail to achieve your goals, you won't fix anything."

"The only achievement for you here is a never-ending hunt against more intelligent prey. Only the foolish regard the easiest choice as the best one."

The figure suddenly rockets skyward. A foul odor slams into my nose as a white crescent moon appears in the sky. A second later, the moon tilts down and splits into a grinning mouth of razor-sharp teeth.

"You must withstand anything your subconscious uses," I barely hear Bumby demand. "It is the only way you'll truly regain your memories!"

"He lies. There is another, harsher way to remember your past. It is reserved for those who can handle pain they've experienced once before. Pain like this."

The world warps and shifts; the mouth in the sky now covers the entire ground below me. I can't even scream before the mouth opens wide and I fall into the crevasse between its teeth. Then, it clamps down around me and slices my body into bits. I scream with what remains of my mouth, my voice joining the screams of countless children who were also consumed by this nightmarish creature.

"Enough. I know what's wrong. Wake at the sound."

The teeth chew me to mincemeat, and the monster swallows me like a delicate treat. My mind breaks into a maelstrom of confusion, hopelessness, and suffering.

I shriek from a hoarse throat as my eyes snap open. The sunlight of Bumby's office gives me no comfort. My hands fly to my chest as my heart pounds so fast, I fear it'll burst out of my body and run out of the room. The ringing of Bumby's bell echoes in my ears, but even that gives me no grace as I recall just what it was I felt in my mind.

"What the hell was all that," I ask myself out loud. "What does it mean?"

"It is hard to study the mind," Bumby says to me; I see him stand up from by his desk, apparently having moved there after hypnotizing me. "I've dealt with cases like yours before, in children and adults. They had a secret, and there was always a reason they forgot about it."

I look at my shaking hands in confusion. There's a reason I forgot everything about who I was? I find that hard to believe. Then again, I'm finding a lot of things in this city hard to initially believe. This is a start; Bumby's got something to work on from this, right?

"I see two ways we can make you remember your past," Bumby then says as he sits back at the chair beside me. "One option may feel better than the other, but the choice is yours." I sit up slowly, placing my hands on my lap as I focus on what he's about to say.

"The first option, to put it simply, is for you to make a new life over your old one, since it seems your old life is not wanting to be remembered. Forget your old existence completely, make a new name and reputation for yourself in this life. Of course, this means you will have to forgo any goals that the past you may want to accomplish."

"No," I instantly say, realizing what Bumby means by 'forgo any goals'. "I won't do that. If I don't find Alice Liddel at some point, I'll lose the rest of my sanity. I will not let that happen."

"Don't jump to conclusions," Bumby warns me with a stern glare. "I haven't said the second option, yet, and it may sound even worse to you." I huff as anger bubbles in my chest, and I mentally force it back down.

"The second option is to break through this subconscious barrier," he explains. "Confront your fears head-on, and overcome them through sheer will. This will not be easy; many things about this world, and its people, are best left forgotten. You may confuse your past self with your current one amidst the chaos."

"I'll take that chance, Doctor." My reply is quick and, despite my still-shaking hands, determined. "I need to figure out who I was, and finding Alice Liddel is the best option for me. I can feel that she is important to my past, in some way."

Bumby simply says, "Very well," after what feels like an eternity passes in the silent room. He pockets his key and rises from the chair; I stand up from the couch a moment later as I notice Bumby take out a small piece of paper, a quill, and a small black jar, from within his desk. He quickly writes something on the paper after dipping the quill's sharp end, and hands me the paper when I come over to see.

"This is a list of medication you are to collect from a chemist in High Street," he explains. The list shows a few confusing names, and then the address '24 Arbor Path, High Street'. "I know this chemist well, and he will provide what you need. The price will be covered by me later; you can pay it back by finding a job here, or near here, to start. I promise to support you while you are here, but you need to take the initiative on paying me back for that support."

I nod with a quick, "Thank you, Doctor," and then walk out of the office. Once I shut the door behind me, my headache returns. It's probably from the anxiety of what went on in there, and how Bumby wants to deal with it. I also feel unsure about Bumby's strong level of trust in me, even though, as far as I can recall, he's been the only person who's gone and helped me when I needed it.

I step out into the smoggy East End streets with a goal in mind, but no clear way as how to accomplish it without facing some trouble along the way. Is this going to be a trend, or something?

Moving through East End is about as difficult as I expected. Every few corners, there is some building that looks like one I saw three corners back. The people all wear the same dark clothing, save for the women in bright apparel flaunting themselves to any man who walks by them. The children are focused on their own tasks, save for when they try to pinch someone's purse, which I notice all too often.

I keep my list tightly clenched in my hand as I move pass a large butcher shop open to the air, the name 'Hardwick's Fine Meats' shown in black on a fading white sign. A large crowd of men stand around the butcher, comparing, arguing, and shouting demands toward him. The butcher is a man with a thin mustache, muscles upon muscles, working shirtless amidst the wanting crowd.

The butcher's boisterous voice calls out specific orders as more are belted out. I stop for a moment and observe his work, curious as how he can keep so focused on what he's doing amidst so much chaos. In a way, he could represent my own plight, and a way around it. He's facing a problem, and he's found a way to adapt to it. I feel hope rise in my chest as I tell myself I can do the same.

I move away from the shop, backtrack for a few blocks, turn to the left, and stop in surprise at the new darkness around me. This street is much, much darker than the past few. I look to the sky, and instantly see the reason; smokestacks pump out more of the sooty smog that covers the entire city here. I don't hear any unique noises from the building those stacks are connected to. Scratch that, I can't even see the building clearly; everything here is pressed up against each other.

I hear a familiar meow next to one dimly-lit building that spreads out over an entire corner. The white cat sits below several windows showing skeletons, bones, skulls, insects, and other creepy objects. I don't want to see what's inside.

A large wooden sign, connected to another sign below it by metal chains, reads, in fancy script, 'DR. FIXXLER'S MYSTERIOUS ELIXIRS'. The smaller sign beneath reads, 'UNCOMMON CURES FOR UNCOMMON CASES'. The entrance door looks to be metal, or very ornately-carved wood painted a dark gray, and made even darker by the black sky above.

The white cat doesn't enter this shop, but looks right at me with its glowing yellow eyes. I feel the urge to go in as I look back at it. The animal isn't fazed by my strange eye color. It then starts to lick its paws and wash its face. Has it lost interest in me?

I shake my head as to why I'm getting so confused about a cat, of all things, and head inside the shop. Just to look around, that's all.

The moment I enter the shop, I see I made a gross underestimation on this place's size. This place looks as large as the Houndsditch lounge, but it is filled with items that I can't begin to comprehend. Bottles of varying shapes and sizes line the wall behind a large counter, each item neatly stacked on a shelf. A bookshelf that stands twice my height rests to one side, a black ladder allowing access to the higher-up volumes.

A set of three animal skulls, still connected to their spinal cords, rest in clear jars on a table. That table is next to a large sofa that can probably sit three people at once. The room's dim light comes from candles resting on other tables, and lamps fixtures on the walls.

Fur brushes past my leg, and I look down at the bright orange eyes of another cat. This one has a black coat, and no real face that I can see. It darts across the wooden floor with barely a sound before moving up a small stairway into a brighter room. Thin curtains block my sight inside this new room.

A hoarse caw from the stairway makes me whirl around. I see what my mind calls a 'raven' or 'crow' perched on the top of that stairway's railing. Its orange eyes stare me down as it flaps its wings at me a few times.

"Ah," a hoarse, but quiet voice speaks as the curtain parts. "A customer. Thank you, Nanna and Huginn, for informing me."

A woman with a very wrinkled face, hunched back, black hair, and deep-set orange eyes walks down the stairwell, one hand on the rail to support her large frame. She moves over to the counter as I stand frozen by her appearance. She moves to the counter as Huginn flaps over to the counter and lands on its far left, next to a closed bottle of green liquid.

"Welcome, child," the woman says with a smile. "I am Dr. Fixxler. What cure do you need?"

"Uh," I slowly say. "I'm trying to find a chemist in High Street. I think I've come to the wrong place."

"The wrong place?" Dr. Fixxler's smile wilts as she asks this. "Did you not see my signs outside? I tried to make them very clear for customers to read, and understand. The fact you still came in here means you don't really think this place is wrong." I raise my hands in apology, and then walk over to the counter and place Bumby's list on her desk.

"Just take a look through this, then," I quickly say. "Dr. Angus Bumby told me I need these pills from a chemist. If you are a chemist, as well, you can probably give me what's on here."

'Huginn' flies off of the counter as Dr. Fixxler takes the list and slowly reads through it. Her smile regrows slowly on her face, like a seed slowly sprouting in the sunlight.

"Yes, yes," she finally says without looking at me. "I can help you with this. It is unusual enough to fit right up my alley, so to speak. I'll find what I can in the workroom; you can rest on the sofa and get acquainted with Nanna and Huginn. They'll both look after you while I'm gone."

I move to the sofa and carefully take a seat as Dr. Fixxler moves back up the stairwell, and behind the thin curtain. Huginn looks at me from his previous perch; Nana stretches out on the counter for a brief moment, and then wanders behind it. I feel an empty spot in my hand where I held Bumby's list. I feel like I've done something wrong.

Dr. Fixxler reemerges after what feels like a few short minutes, a small brown package and a large bottle in her hands as she carefully moves back down the stairs. I quickly get up and move back to the counter, just as Nana jumps back into view. It gets a quick scratch on the head from the doctor, which makes it purr in content as the woman turns to face me.

"I must admit," she quickly says as she places the items in her hands on the counter, along with Bumby's list. "Your case is quite interesting. I haven't had an amnesiac come to my shop in many years; it just isn't a common case brought to doctors in general. Rutledge Asylum usually gets amnesiacs, so Dr. Bumby must really want you cured if he didn't send you there. Considering what I've heard about that man, I'm surprised he wants this for you."

"Can you help me, then?" I ask this while placing my hands on the counter, the wood cold to the touch.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear, I'll help you. But, you'll have to pay me back at some time, and in some way. I always collect my payment, no matter what the case, and whoever the customer." I sense Nana's eyes lock onto my face to add emphasis to its owner's statement. I don't doubt her words.

"I'll pay you," I reply. "But, what are you selling me, exactly?"

"The package contains pills designed to access the subconscious mind, while the mixture will help you sleep easier. Take two pills before you sleep, and wash it down with a good gulp of the mixture. Nightmares are common among cases like yours, and these will make sure your dreams won't weaken you mentally."

On impulse, I bow to Dr. Fixxler and say, "Thank you very much." I then pick up the two items and press them to my chest. The individual pills clatter inside the package, and the liquid inside the bottle sloshes slightly. I exit with the feeling of six eyes watching me, judging me, and it doesn't make me feel any better about what I've done.

I move quickly back to Houndsditch, my determination to test these pills making me move faster through the streets. The sun is almost below the sky as I reenter the orphanage, but no one seems to care that I was gone for so long. My stomach growls out of hunger as I enter, but I feel more tired than hungry right now. Nevertheless, a small bowl of soup or broth is given to me by Bumby when I return. He doesn't ask about who I met, or even what I got; is this because he trusts me that much, or something else?

I finish my dinner quickly, and it doesn't shift too much inside me as I head up to the loo; the bowl is taken by an older orphan girl. I take two pills out of the package and slip them into my mouth. The taste makes my stomach lurch in disgust, but I am able to swallow them down after drinking a bit of the mixture. The liquid is sweet and tickles down my throat, counteracting the harshness of the pills and the lumps the form in my gut. I almost instantly feel tired, probably from the mixture.

I get into the boy's dorm just as the other boys are slipping into bed themselves. It's nighttime outside, the window black against the room's light. The bed is quite small when I get in, so I scrunch my legs to my chest and become a ball underneath the covers. I fall asleep almost instantly with the brief thought that I need to break through whatever bad memories I face.

This should be enough, for now. More is planned for the future, as I said before, so please keep watch.

Please review, comment, constructively criticize, and suggest new options as you wish.

Draconos is taking off!