"Facts Concerning the Strange Case of Wonderland"

Doctor Aaron Augustus Bennett's Personal Journal, November 29, 1870

My primary case is continuously frustrated by Alice's random lucidity. It renders me incapable of making actual progress – further, the fact that she seems a touch too unstable for my ministrations to be effective is another problem that I haven't been able to surmount. Verily, my methods have proven themselves, thus I see little point in trying to seek the error in them. I could, however, seek some error in my colleague, and, of course, Nurse Duckett, who seems to harbor a complacency towards the patient.

However, her infuriating, impertinent behavior might have helped me yet.

The rather light-handed approach Lucas Rutledge has demonstrated towards his nephews, as well as Theophilus Carter's inaccessibility and avoidant behavior had, I admit, somewhat intimidated me. Of course, officially, he, too, was my patient, but he had, thus far, either refused to talk to me (even asking for Nurse Duckett by first name to come in my stead) or had insisted on playing children's games. I see my error in her suggestion, however: I could have benefited from focusing on him in the interim. I am therefore resolute in employing hypnotherapy once more and see if that will allow me to get past him.

Theophilus Carter himself was instrumental in this decision. In the evening, I thought to visit Alice. Under normal circumstances, that is Nurse Duckett's responsibility, but since she was doing her final rounds, I thought I would do it in her stead. I am responsible for her, after all. I found my way to the unfortunates' ward to find, unsurprisingly, Daniel and Dean in attendance, this time actually performing their duties for a spell. As I passed by Theophilus Carter's cell, he called out to me.

"Going to visit the harlot, are we?"

I turned to face him.

"Does your insolence know no bounds?"

He cackled and shook his head.

"Doctor, doctor, doctor. So prim and proper. There is a proper time and a proper place for everything, and this evening strikes me as the proper time to speak true."

"That couldn't be further from the truth, as there is no proper time to speak the truth."

"Ah." He smiled again, "Now, we can talk."

"I thought we were."

He scoffed.

"That was why we were not."

"Speak, then."

"You are wasting time." He said, "And you don't have much of it to waste."

"What am I wasting time on?"

"Alice." He hissed the name, his voice full of disdain.

"How exactly am I wasting my time with her?"

"Oh, you've got it all backwards." He said, sighing, "You are not wasting your time. As I've said, you don't have enough time of your own to waste. You are wasting her time. She will not be going down the rabbit hole anytime soon, I can assure you."

"Mister Carter-"

"Mad Hatter, please."

"I will not play your games."

"You are playing already."

"And what are you implying, exactly?"

"Have you seen the Fortress of Doors yet?"

I admit, I felt my blood run cold for a second.

"How do you know about that..?"

"Answer me a riddle: how is a doorway like a noose?"

I thought this one resembled Alice's riddle about a fire and a lottery. I sought an answer equally morbid, but failed to find one.

"How?" I asked.

"Because when your neck passes through either, you are already halfway to the other side. That is all you need to know. Pleasant evening, doctor."

He retreated into his cell. I made an attempt to raise him, but he behaved as if I wasn't even there. Thus, I abandoned him and made my way to Alice's cell. I opened the door as quietly as could, all the while aware that I should have been doing the exact opposite. It was a reflex, I suppose, an intrinsic push towards not disturbing the sleeper. Upon stepping into the room, I noticed that her plush rabbit was lying in the sea of papers, as if thrown towards her wall of art. I did recall Nurse Duckett mentioning something about this.

Alice was no different than any other time that I had come to see if she was awake, but also, yet she was different. Her head had been tilted to the right and down, a position that I did not believe would be healthy for her neck if held over extended periods of time. Hence, I went and corrected it, and ensured that the pillow would support her neck.

I wondered, for a moment, if she could see the sky and could see no rhyme or reason to this thought.

I locked the door behind me and made my way back through the unfortunate's ward. Theophilus Carter was staring rather intently at me, eyes following me as I passed him by.

My rather spontaneous visit, however, has brought me to the conclusion that, even though I disagree with it in principle, practicality demands that I attempt to use hypnotherapy with Theophilus Carter, if because of nothing but his availability.

Hieronymous Q. Wilson's Personal Journal, Final Entry, Dateless (on the succeeding page of the November 12 entry)

I have to say goodbye.

I have bargained as well as I could with the feline to have this simple, small thing. It is an unexplainable desire, much like my wish to join her in her dreams, but I do not believe that fighting it will achieve anything – so I indulge. The feline approved of my indulgence, but the rabbit, ever in a hurry, cited the importance of time.

I, nevertheless, have arranged everything. Everything must go. I will depart from this place, and although I hope to take these demons with me, I don't suppose that I will.

I made my way down to her cell and found the haunting, familiar door obediently waiting for me. I had a passing feeling that if I entered that cell, walking out of it would take everything I have.

The feline urged me to continue, and so I did. I opened the door and, leaving the keys on the lock, entered the room. There she was, lying in her bed, covers undisturbed, her hair scattered across the pillow. Dreaming. Wasting away.

As I approached her, I began to wonder if I, too, would slip away into her dream soon, if I would see the things she was seeing in that very moment. If I would finally know where she had gotten lost in, where she wandered off to when she wasn't with us in this cold world.

Do we close our eyes only to open them to dreams?

I couldn't touch her, that would be most inappropriate, yet my fingers were itching to get at her hair. I stood there, looking at the pale, thin girl under the covers, her eyes, closed or open, always facing the window of her cell, as if she wants to dream of the world she sees through it.

I couldn't help myself. I couldn't help but say some parting words. Standing beside her, I felt helpless, not just to stop what was happening to myself, but what had been happening to her all this time.

Behind me, at the doorstep, I could sense the feline waiting, that insane smile firm on his face. I had to say it, or else I would be dragged out of there, and I would not leave this cell on anyone's accord but mine. Thus, I spoke:

"Alice, can you see the sky?"