Nuova Luna
New Moon, Alice's Story
Author: Arwens-light
Chapter 10: The Past Laid Bare
Rating: M
Author's Note: I am so ETERNALLY sorry for making you all wait this long… I've been working on this chapter for a while and was scared to release it because this is such a pivotal moment in Alice's life that I didn't want to mess it up… I hope you enjoy this chapter; I will be following this one up shortly (hopefully within the next two weeks!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all. NO copyright infringement intended
Jasper and I quickly covered the ground to the courthouse as the sun sunk behind the buildings. We slipped into the basement and went into the Archive. Jasper picked the lock on the door and entered the small, dark room ahead of me. He pulled down several boxes from a top shelf and set them on a metal examination table. We opened the file boxes and sorted through the contents until we located the file that matched my case number. I swallowed hard and leaned against the table for support. It was all too much… this was moving too fast. Jasper carefully pulled out the file and laid it gently on the table in front of me. I gingerly lifted the cover of file # 85577 and let it fall flat. The pages were tattered and yellowed with age. The ink was brown and faded. The official record was typed with a heavy handed type writer.
Name of the patient: Brandon, Mary Alice.
Age: 19
Height 4' 11"
Weight 80 lbs
Sex: Female
Date of Birth: April 16, 1901
Date of Admittance: June 2, 1920
Date of Death: June 2, 1920
Reason for Admittance: Admitted due to insanity
Depositor: Brandon, George. Father
Rehabilitation: Unlikely. No reentrance into society recommended.
The scrawl of a doctor's approving signature was seen at the bottom of the aged page.
I frowned, my brow puckering. My father… my own father had admitted me… My face suddenly felt as if it was on fire; my scalp prickled as I gazed at the name.
Jasper's hand laid briefly on mine at the sharp alteration of my mood. I blinked roughly and tried to reorganize my thoughts. Jasper turned the page of the file and a few loose pieces of paper fluttered onto the floor.
I leaned forward to examine the new pages as Jasper bent down to retrieve the fallen items. The pages contained a detailed record of my doctor appointments. My fingers dug into the edge of the metal table frame. I could faintly feel the metal melt like butter under my steely grip. Each session was given a reference number followed by the date and length of the appointment. An elaborate account of events was given, in tones of an unfamiliar, cold medical textbook. I skimmed the details and began flipping through pages. Record 624. Account A-3. Dated June 12, 1920. Patient was released after a week in solitary confinement due to disruptive behavior. Record 624. Account A-9. Dated June 30, 1920. Doctor Japheth Williams has suggested an experimentally treatment be administered to the patient. Reports from the New York Mental Health and Sanity Board offer a hopeful prognosis that it will cure mentally instabilities as seen in the patient. Treatment description can be found in Doctor's Appendix, Therapy 748c.
A tidal wave of confliction suddenly crashed into me. I gasped softly, trying to adjust to the crushing sensation of emotions that were not mine. I pushed back from the table, clutching at my head as my eyes found Jasper. The flicker I saw in Jasper's eyes haunted me. His eyes had been consumed with wariness and pain. Jasper quickly pulled back his own emotions until I could barely register them, even on his face.
He opened his mouth for a moment, as if to speak, but quickly shut it again.
I stared at him in confusion, and then my eyes slowly transitioned to the small square he held in his hand.
"What?" I demanded, my voice awkward and thick. My own fear suddenly threatened to drown me.
Jasper's mouth opened again, but shut just as quickly. I heard him swallow the lump in his throat. He stared at me for one long moment and then, slowly, his mood melted into resolution. His jaw locked and he raised his eyes to peer deep into mine. His long, slender and scarred hand extended toward me, offering me the paper.
My eyes flickered from the article in his hand to his face before I felt my own hand involuntarily reach forward to receive his offering.
"It's you right to now," Jasper said stiffly. "That's why we're here in the first place. So you can know your past."
His fingers dropped from mine. I was left holding the foreign object. I was terrified to turn it over. The back of the paper was an aged cream color and felt slightly rough and thick. The other slide felt much smoother and almost glassy to the touch.
With a small breath, I turned the paper over. It was a picture. Namely, a picture of a young boy with a shaved head. I glanced back at Jasper, confused as to why he would have wanted to protect me from this. I softly shook my head and looked back down at the picture.
A slow realization began to wash over me as I studied the picture. The boy's thin frame… the shape of the boy's chin and the structure of the boy's cheekbones. And then, all of a sudden, I realized that my own dead, lifeless, human eyes were staring back up at me.
I felt my knees go weak and quickly stumbled into the metal table to maintain my balance. I turned the picture face down on the table and pushed it away from me.
Jasper moved around the table to stand beside me, his hand tentatively on my waist.
"As you okay?" he whispered.
I nodded, staring down at my boots, unable to form words. That image was burned into my brain. It was terrible, but given some time to process it, I might be able to deal with it. But it was the eyes that were bothering me the most… dead. Cold… I shook my head, trying to clear the picture from my never forgetting brain. I reached for the file again and rummaged through it. I furiously turned the page of my file, searching for anything. More doctor's notes. More experimental therapies and notes of my deteriorating mental and physical conditions. An incident report recorded my attack on a guard one night. The punishment was isolation for two weeks. Then the file abruptly ended. A simple note recorded the time of my death. It was noted that I had been discovered in my cell by an asylum worker named Ezekiel, who was also given instructions to dispose of my body. I snorted and slammed the file shut. Guess I wasn't dead after all.
My hands shook as I stared at the file. And then I was gone, flying through the window, my bag slung securely on my back. The sun had just sunk over the edge of the world, leaving the landscape in a quickly fading twilight purple and gray. My feet skipped faintly across the pavement into the grassy field that led to the surrounding forest. I could dimly hear Jasper trailing me.
It was too much information, too quickly obtained. My head was spinning as the lights of the city quickly faded from view. "There was a death date," I whispered to myself as I plunged myself into the Mississippi woods. "It can't be me… this file can't be me…"
I dropped to my knees, my chest convulsing strangely. "It can't be me… It can't be me…"
Jasper's hand gently touched my shoulder. "Alice…"
"There was a death date in the record, Jasper… how can this be me?" The photograph was forever sketched into my brain. In my mind, I knew that it was me. That was my file. But my heart was crying out against the reality of it, begging for a different explanation.
"Maybe they put that down when you disappeared," Jasper said carefully, kneeling beside me. "It wouldn't sound good if word got back to the public that the institution had lost one of its patients."
I clutched at my head, pulling at my hair. My short, choppy, uneven, jet black hair. I fingered a strand carefully as I turned the concept over in my mind. There was no other explanation.
Jasper and I remained silent for an hour, both kneeling in the southern earth.
"I need to go to Biloxi," I said softly, finally feeling some control over my emotions.
"We'll go whenever you're ready," Jasper said, rising to his feet. He gently brushed the top of my hair with fingers.
"I'm ready. Let's go."