Wondrous Nightmares
by Bloodysword99
Recommended song: When She Cries- Britt Nicole
Fanart: TBA
Chapter 3: When We Cry Blood
Every night, Pitch visited the little Alice in the Rutledge Asylum. She liked his visit. Alice said it was the only good thing in the Asylum. At night, the Boogeyman would keep her company until she would fall asleep. But most of the evening, the girl would try to stay awake just to spend time with him. Since, she had no sane friends in the asylum, she would feel rather lonely. So, Alice treasures Pitch's nightly visits. They would draw together, talk about Alice's test in the Asylum and Pitch would tell her scary stories, just like before but with the absence of going to Wonderland. And the Boogeyman didn't push the subject; she still needed to recover herself after the fire. And Pitch's nocturnal visits had been going on until, one night, 1865, when she was 10 years old, Pitch teleported to her room and found Alice gone.
"Where could she…?" He observed her room. Their disturbing drawing pinned to the wall. A cold metal bed and an abandoned stuffed rabbit, not much room. A square cell. Empty. Alice-less.
Pitch decided to search for his believer. He shifty travelled through the shadows of the dark Asylum. Passing my rooms and rooms of mad and delusional patients and self-important nurses and pompous doctors, the Boogeyman scanned the mad house from top to bottom and still no Alice.
"So, it's today?"
He heard a nurse say not far. Pitch moves through the darkness and spotted Nurse Priss Witless accompanied by Doctor Wilson, Alice's doctor, by-standing in a corridor. Pitch looked at them and then noticed the place. This was odd. He had never seen this part of the Asylum. Dark narrow halls, lights flickered and droplets of black paint everywhere.
Wait…? Black paint splatters…?
Dry Blood. Pitch realized.
"It seems so. Hopefully the experiment would be a success. For Alice's sake." Doctor Wilson spoke while looking at his clipboard. And Pitch perked hearing her name.
Another odd thing, Alice never had doctor appointments at night. For a year, she was only required check-ups during the day, tea time and rest in the afternoon and at night she would be in her room. Why the sudden change? Pitch decided to move closer to them and pick up the conversation.
"Nurse Witless, this experiment is…"
"Confidential, I know, doctor." The old hag said.
And they both walked down the hall as Pitch fallowed. The nightmare king was slightly disturbed of this unknown side of the asylum. He's seen some horrible things in his time but this was just...grotesque. Blood spatters dripped on the floor, the hall looked like a murder scene or a butcher meat shop. Pitch felt the torment of the very place. The malice was almost suffocating. And farther and farther as Pitch goes, he could practically choke on the malevolence. The Boogeyman could feel the torment it held for all these poor patients who have bleed through these halls. He just hoped Alice wasn't a victim.
"Here we are." The Doctor announced passing through the black double doors with the nurse. Pitch swept in and stood; frozen, absolutely horrified.
The room itself was a torture chamber! Dark, ominous and disgusting, the ward was filled with sharp brutalizing equipment, tools for gutting, cutting and piercing and shelves and shelves of illegal medicine, most of them poisonous and had distressing side effects. Pitch had to put himself together just processing all these man-made audacities. Sure, he was the Nightmare King and has given these kinds of visions to his victims but Pitch still couldn't handle the idea of human doing this to their fellow man. It was just…ugly. And monstrous.
"Alice Liddell, a patient here since November 4, 1864; A year after the fire that killed her family. Unresponsive till this very day." Doctor Wilson read the report out loud, he sounded almost humorous.
Pitch wanted to cut him with his scythe! But he has more depressing matters to attend to. So, Pitch searched the room and found the poor little Alice. Dazed and disoriented, the defenceless child was strapped to a bloody dissecting table; waiting to be gutted like a fish.
"I hear her every night talking to the 'Boogeyman'.The brat's sanity is gone, plain and simple." Priss snickered grimly.
Pitch looked at them horrified before looking down at Alice. Green eyes empty, tired and lifeless. Her head almost completely shaved. Her face was sickly and pale. Alice Liddell was drain of her beauty and childish enthusiasm. Such an innocent child, broken into nothing.
"Alright then, let's begin." The doctor spoke picking up a scalpel.
"No!" Pitch growled as he lunged at the fat doctor yet he went through him like a ghost. And it dawned on him; he was still under 'believers' law. If they believe you, they see you and can physically interact with them. But in this case, the doctor wasn't a believer or a child! So, Pitch lay on the floor watching as the scalpel was practically inches from the girl's forehead.
"No! No! NO!" But he was persistent. He refused to be powerless! He was the Nightmare King for MiM sakes!
Pitch, on his feet, summoned the power of his shadows. His magic was able to blind them but only temporarily. He had 60 seconds to get Alice out of there! And breaking the child's bounds, the Boogeyman cradled her in his arms and teleported back to her room. He barred the door with shadows and Alice's metal bed, the only furniture she had. And once that was done, he panted vigorously; catching his breath before looking at Alice, sitting on the floor staring at him with blank eyes.
"Alice…" He called out to her in a painful voice. Pitch didn't know why he was in pain. Seeing her suffer like that, it tore him apart. His chest would tighten at the very idea. The Boogeyman had strange a impulses to protect Alice and destroy anyone and anything that would hurt her. Pitch wanted her safe. But as he was about to tell her his plans to take her away from here, Alice smiled and gazed at him blankly.
"It's alright, Boogeyman."
No, it wasn't alright! Pitch's eyes narrowed at the child's statement. How is being gutted alright?
"They can't touch me. I'm not here. I'm in…Wonderland." She muttered it so weakly like she didn't have the will to live. Pitch's dark heart twisted hearing her. He felt anger, sadness and fear, in the highest douses. In such a long time, he hadn't been this scared. Not since he was human, when he had thought he lost his…daughter. No, this wasn't going to end like that! He couldn't. So, the Boogeyman kneeled before her and held both her shoulders, trying his best to reason with her. Make her understand how much danger she was in.
"H-How could you say that, you inconsiderate child!? You said it yourself! Your Wonderland is destroyed! Y-You can't…!" Pitch raked his hair furiously before continuing in a more solid tone.
"You can't stay there forever, not when it's in chaos, while they—they do this to your body!"
Alice merely spread a melancholic smile towards him.
"You promised to save me, did you not?"
"Y-Yes but this—"
"Then, you'll have to wait for the precise moment. Trust me and wait." Her eyes were so gentle. Alice was so small and fragile yet it was Pitch who broke down.
They heard the door being rammed. They finally found out where their patient ran off to. As the iron banged and the nurses and doctors wailed for Alice to open the door, Pitch studied Alice with wide sad eyes. He was searching for any sign of fear. He hoped he could use it to convince her to run with him. Pitch thought if she was with him then they could repair Alice's sanity together. Then, they'll reconstruct her Wonderland. Alice would have a place in his lair, a room of her own. She could have all the toys she desired. Alice could have all the dresses she fancied. She could have as much tea time as she wanted. She could be safe, healthy and loved. Pitch can try his best to a substitute father or at least a good friend. He could protect her. Pitch wouldn't let any nightmare touch her. No one would dare harm her. Never again.
"Alice, open the door!" Doctor Wilson's voice was hard, stern and angry.
Pitch's eyes were filled with hope and dejection. And Alice could only smile at him and pull him into a tight hug. An embrace of gentle angel with a firm grip, it's a sign of gratitude to him. She cared for the Boogeyman and trusted him with her life. Almost 2 years of her excruciating existence since the Fire, Pitch had been there. He waited for her. He watched over her like a dark angel of the night. That is why she knew, he had the patience to save her. She knew he could wait. She was confident Pitch would never abandon her.
"Patience is a virtue, Boogeyman, put that in your thick skull, will you please." She whispered and she almost sounded like her cocky clever old self.
As Pitch was about to hug her back, the door was violently opened and a swarm of people in white clothes tore Alice away from him.
"Alice, you naughty girl, you shouldn't run like that. They might have cut you in the wrong places." A big male nurse chuckled and lifted her like a sack potatoes. And the little girl made no fuss.
"NO!" He wailed and reached for Alice's hand but she was already been carried away.
Pitch could only see her tender smile and sweet tears fall from her tormented green eyes while she was being sent to her doom. And he couldn't do anything about it. And for what it's worth, despite how wrathful or how desolated he felt, Pitch was a man of his word.
He will…wait.
He will painfully wait for the right moment to save her as instructed. No matter how many experiments they may conduct on her, Alice was a strong child but he wasn't sure if he was. His eyes stinged. His chest felt like it was being crushed. Pitch cringed because of his twisted forlorn anger before wailing it out in a raw battle cry and raced away from the asylum. He felt like he had lost his daughter. Again.
And with the girl's crying face imprinted forever in his mind, Pitch could only wonder how strong Alice had to be to fight, how much hurt she endured, how many times she broke, how long she had to hide, what she had to lose and what she cried for.
'Alice.'
The Nightmare King, for once in his life, prayed; felt the sting of tears.