Pixie Dust & Premonitions

Part 8/10

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Alice wakes to the feel of rain on her skin, mud beneath her face and the sensation that she's been dropped into a lake of liquid fire. She screams, loudly, and pulls herself to her knees. Tangling her fingers in her short, wet hair, she gasps and crawls – somewhere, anywhere.

Her breaths come in short and a shallow, and her chest and throat burn with intensity.

"Help me!" she croaks, though she knows no one will hear her.

She feels as though her head is being ripped apart.

Where am I? Why am I alone? Why am I in this gown?

She hears dogs barking in the distance, men shouting, and her first and only instinct is to run. She does, and she's fast. Trees fly by her at such a speed that she barely has time to register where they are.

She stops short, her arms extended in front of her, her hands feeling at the air. She can't see anymore.

What's going on?

She gasps.

She's in a bright room with large windows, and as her eyes scan the room, she sees herself sitting in a desk chair.

She's wearing a fancy black dress, and her make up looks nice. Her expression is blank. The blonde man in front of her, in dark denim and a deep green shirt, is watching her with a concerned look.

"Alice," he says, kneeling. "What are you seeing?"

Just before her vision fades, she sees herself wake and say a single word: Jasper.

She's in the forest again, staring at her trembling hands. The loud sound of yapping search dogs snaps her back to her senses, and she continues running. She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment; the pounding her head is so intense that it's making her nauseous.

"Hold it!"

She stops short. A man is in front of her, a dog at his side, and a pistol in his hand. "Just hold it right there. It's back to the ward for you."

Ward?

"Don't even think about running. You can't get away."

I'll bet you for it.

As soon as she thinks the words, a flash of images race through her mind. It takes her a moment to figure out what's going on: she's seeing various escape routes out of her situation.

Her eyes dart back and forth, up and down. From the man to the dog, the tree to her left, the small stream of rushing water to her right. Before she can settle her mind on a specific choice, her feet are moving again. Running.

"Stop!" The man yells.

She hears the footsteps of the dog just inches behind her heels, hears its teeth snapping at her ankles.

Without considering her actions, she stops and turns. Her right hand closes around the dog's neck, and its threatening growl becomes a high pitched whine.

Kill it, a voice in her mind says. You could.

"No," she hisses. "I won't."

Her grip loosens just enough, and the animal scrambles away. A smart creature.

"Got you."

Alice freezes, feeling the cold metal barrel of a weapon at her temple. She'd been too occupied with her struggle on what to do with the dog that someone had snuck up on her.

"Now, come quietly. I won't lose my job because I let one, teensy little girl get away."

Her lip curls. She's not a little girl.

There's a pounding sound in her head again, but this time, it doesn't hurt. She tilts her head to one side and listens, and as she comes to realisation, her mouth begins to water incessantly.

It's the man's heartbeat.

She doesn't remember her next actions, and by the time she comes to her senses and finds her hands covered in blood, she's in the middle of a deserted street with nothing but a long, empty road to her left and the bright lights of a city to her right.

She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, and then wipes her hands on her torn and muddy gown.

She sees herself making the decision to go towards the lights.

* * *

She's grateful that the town is deserted when she reaches it. She doesn't really know what she's doing here; she's only following gut instinct. She finds a closed bakery, a school, a grocery store and a boutique.

She stops at the window to admire a simple pink dress, with a square neckline and a knee-length hymn. Smiling, she places a bloody palm on the glass. I want this.

She doesn't remember breaking the glass with her fist and climbing through into the store, but she's in the bathroom now, scrubbing at the dried blood between her fingers and on her face.

She avoids looking at her reflection too much: her eyes frighten her.

When she's satisfied with her appearance, she slips the dress over her head and turns once to admire it as best as she can in the small mirror.

In the store, Alice finds a bag. She uses it to store two pairs of trousers, three or four nice blouses and two pairs of shoes. She also uses some of the hair products there to do something about hers.

It's too short to do much, but she finds that if she spikes it up around the back and lets her fringe dangle near her face it looks quite nice. She decides it looks better with a pearly headband.

She feels bad about not paying for the clothes, so she finds some receipt paper and a pen near the register and leaves a note: Sorry. Needed them. Only took a few. Thank you.

With that, she hurries out of the store. While she was writing, she had a vision of the Statue of Liberty.