All of Dr. Wilson's case notes are quoted from American McGee's Alice. I do not own the game, the movies, or the books. If you are enjoying the story, or if you see something you'd like to critique, please leave a review. The only way I can grow as a writer is if you lovely readers let me know what you think!

TWO YEARS EARLIER

"Received confirmation from the Superintendent that I will be given the opportunity to treat a very troubled and difficult patient. Dubious honour! Her name is Alice, and her prognosis is not promising."

The plaque on the office door read:

Doctor of Psychiatry

Heironymous Q. Wilson

Sanitatem, salutem, solemnitatem

The pen scratched against the thick paper, the faintest scream in the otherwise silent room. Wilson reclined in the leather high-back, writing in his case journal. The new patient, Alice, was safely put away in her room. It was the time in the afternoon when all the patients were either drugged or restrained, and one could almost block out the screaming. Wilson thought that three o' clock in an asylum was exactly what Brighton might be like during the winter.

Heironymous Q. Wilson had never been to Brighton.

Alice's admittance papers were strewn about on his desk, like wrapping paper forgotten after Christmas morning. It was her case file, new and thin, that had captured Wilson so intensely. Looking at its crisp newness brought to mind Mr. Manchester, that off-putting young cad who had first brought Alice to the attention of the Board at Rutledge.

AAA

"We can't allow Alice to set off on this harebrained adventure! You've seen her dress, you've heard her ravings! She's a danger to herself, that she is."

"Lowell, I can't have my baby sister committed. I do admit, she has been rather more peculiar of late, especially after that disaster with the Ascot's. She's just adjusting."

"Adjusting to what, Margaret?"

"To herself, I would imagine."

"Nonsense. She's nearly twenty years old. Your mother agrees with me, I know it. Alice needs help, Margaret. I've spoken to a man in London about-"

"About Alice? What sort of man do you mean?"

"A doctor, at a hospital for people like Alice."

"What sort of people do you mean, Lowell?"

"No need to get upset, my love. I mean, people who need a rest. A break from the stress of the everyday."

"You think Alice needs a rest?"

"I sincerely do. And this man, a doctor of psychiatry, he recommended that we have Alice committed straight away. For her own good, you know. Perhaps if she has her rest, she'll feel better in a few months."

"In time for Christmas, do you think, Lowell?"

"Absolutely in time for Christmas."

AAA

"Mother, why can't you just believe me when I tell you that I'm fine?"

Mother wore a black veil. Her grief seemed suddenly cloying, like the smell of rotting flowers after a funeral. I hated how her grief smelled.

"Alice, you denied Hamish. You denied him and then marched his father into his study for a business meeting. You must understand how all of this looks. Everybody was there. Think of me, and Margaret."

Rotting flowers gave way to burning flesh. I looked in the mirror across the parlor, half believing I would see the gore of a Jabberwock on my dress.

"Mother, I can't expect you to understand. All I ask is that you give me room to breathe. You're behaving like this cursed corset. Let me draw a breath."

She sighed at me. Blood dripping from the Vorpal Blade. Squidberry tarts with tea. Hookah smoke filling a room made of mushrooms and flowers.

"Lowell thinks it might be a good idea for you to take a rest in London. He spoke to a very prominent doctor who suggested that you take a rest for a few months. I think that would be a good opportunity for you to take that breath you say you need."

Mother began to cry, weeping noisily under that damned veil. I clenched my fists, but found no blade. Only laced gloves wrinkling a stiff new dress.

"What kind of a doctor? What kind of a rest? You can't possibly mean-"

"Rutledge, dear girl. I think you need to have a stay at Rutledge. Lowell and Margaret agree. They're making a special trip to take you to London today. I've had Mary pack you a trunk full of the books you love so much, and not a single corset. It will only be for a month or two, just until you're feeling like yourself again."

"Are you mad, Mother? I'm not insane, Rutledge is for the insane. You all want to lock me away, to keep me from having adventures. You're all mad, not me!"

I stood, the corset digging into my chest like bandersnatch claws. Out of the corner of one eye, I saw a carriage rolling up the drive. No doubt containing my Judas sister and her philandering husband. I saw his eyes in the window, glinting and grinning like a cat I once knew. And then I saw nothing at all.