I do not own Syfy's Alice.

But we've already been through that, yeah?

Bloody Maddening

The Reason I Later Broke Alice's Lava Lamp

I honestly don't know how long they tortured me in that Truth Room.

Time goes mad in there.

Jumps forward, jerks back, grinds a screeching halt, loops and loops til your stomach is twirly and sick.

It's the pain, you see.

Does funny things to your mind.

And the surroundings.

They're different for everybody, it's said.

For me they were blobs of bubbling green, swirling and undulating in the most nauseating, discombobulating way possible.

The 'Doctors' don't help at all.

Dum and Dee, they love their fun.

And they have so much of it.

The beatings.

The jeerings.

The near strangulations.

The laughter.

And the electricity, bugger me, the electricity.

Little sticks full of nerve searing jolts of fire.

Stick it right in ya and feel your synapses fry.

I didn't try to hold me screams.

Took too much energy.

Better to let it out, you see. So's it can give you just a modicum more of strength to keep breathin'.

So I endured it all.

With me screams.

And not with Alice's big, beautiful, blue eyes.

No. To think of them would've made me scared for her, weak.

So I shut those liquid sky blue orbs outta me head.

And focused in on me rage.

And me rhymes.

Bits of verse, snatches of poetry.

Words, syllables, things to bite and chew on insteada me own tongue.

A member of the Resistance had taught them to me as a way to keep the madness at bay and me brains functional and intact.

There were loads and loads to choose from.

I was down to three.

"Why is a raven like a writin' desk . . ."

I wasn't holding out hope for rescue or escape, no.

"Clockwork's not ticking properly . . ."

I was trussed good and tight. And weakening by the second.

"Maybe crumbs in the butter . . ."

There was to be no rescue either. Nobody was coming for me.

Alice was still in the clutches of the Suits.

The Resistance wouldn't risk losing any more fighters just for a shifty Teashoppe conman.

And Charlie, well, I couldn't afford to spare a thought of him right then.

So me hope was all dried up and blown away, like abandoned tea leaves in a thieving wind.

The only reason I was still alive was because they wanted information.

"Where is the Great Library?"

They knew I had the information they wanted.

And when I gave it to them, I would die.

As would everyone within.

So I had to stay breathin', stay alive.

Long enough for them to torture me to death.

Because I sure as hell wasn't tellin'.

Not even for her.

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd crack."

This was it.

This was the end.

And I knew it because he started rhyming.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little bat. How I wonder what you're at."

Alice showed me a movie here in her world once.

Batman.

The best one, she said.

Yeah, it was good.

The hero, he had these wild eyebrows.

And this fantastic dialogue delivery. Made me a bit jealous, if I'm to be honest.

And the villain, the Joker, this barmy old git, didn't scare me at all.

Too wonky, him.

Except he had this line he would say to all his victims.

Ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?

And it sent shivers crawlin' down me spine.

Had to get Alice to stop the movie and take a walk outside on the flat ground in the open air.

Because I knew what his victims had felt when he said that.

I had felt it too.

With him.

Mad March.

When he quipped his own lil phrase.

And withdrew his knife.

To slash me jugular, spill me blood.

End me life.

With his knife.

Knife.

And then I had a thought.

Just a sliver of a thought.

A glimpse of a plan.

A touch of hope.

I risked a look down at me bonds.

Maybe, just maybe.

If I played it right.

So I plastered a hang-dog, whipped, beaten expression all over me face.

Not too hard to do, to be honest.

Until he made his lunge and I made mine.

Kicked him right in the chest from me newly supine position on the floor.

And wiggled outta sittin' position and to me feet.

He came at me again and I heaved . . .

Jabberwock ballocks, didn't look that heavy. Bloody hell.

. . . that dastardly heavy chair up to stave off his advance.

While angling me right wrist at him.

And worked like a charm.

Freed me bonds.

Well, just one.

But one was all I needed.

So's I could shatter that hideously happy, bizarre, porcelain rabbit head with me sledgehammer.

And mash and rip out all the machinery underneath.

Only when the head was destroyed and the body still upon that undulating green floor, did I rise and allow a single ray of light to into me brain.

Alice.

Poor Alice, right baffled she was when I scrambled up out of a nightmare one night and winged that weird blobby glass horror right out the window.

Forgave me tho when I explained meself over a steaming midnite cuppa. Good woman she is.

Anyway, thanks to my gentle reviewers DinahRay and Ontherun246 (dead . . . pan? Frightening kitchen you must run).