Chapter 36

Curious

Rated: T (Language)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Death.

Disclaimer: Don't sue me. The only thing I own is an asthma inhaler and a piece of chewed gum, so if you want to get high off the gas and chew pre-chewed gum, sue away!

Theme song for chapter: "The Drawing Room" By Midnight Syndicate.

A/N: Reviews are always welcomed with open arms and a creepy pedo smile.

xSilentDawnx: Tadaa! Betcha didn't expect me to literally update right now, did you? XD

It was cold and drafty in here, but obviously indoors. I shivered. Somewhere to my right, something was dripping repeatedly.

Drip, drip, drip.

I waited in silence, too frozen and fearful to venture even further. I wanted to back up again a wall, but when I reached out to feel what was behind me, nothing was there. I didn't move. I didn't make a sound.

Suddenly, without warning, the light flicked on. The light itself was weak, and didn't reach the corners of the room, but it was a light nonetheless. The room was plain, with almost no furniture. In the corner, there was a pipe protruding slightly from the wall, water dripping slowly out of it and falling into a small puddle on the concrete floor.

A chair sat in the very center of the room, it's back positioned towards me. A young boy sat in the chair, his arms and legs bound together by rope. I could tell by the metal contraption adorning his head who it was, and rushed over, trying to undo the ties. After a while of grappling desperately with my good hand, I gave up. My left arm hurt far to much to maneuver into a position to grip the rope, and I was pretty sure my wrist was sprained too. Not to mention the rope didn't budge an inch, even using my right hand. I simply could not free the boy from whatever was going to happen. I just stood there, watching him. I soon came to realize the material beneath the metal headgear, wrapped around his mouth, preventing him from speech. His eyes darted around, frightened and apprehensive.

A few minutes of blissful silence, besides the boy's irregular, muffled whimpering went by.

"Humans." A voice rang out through the empty room and I flinched, gasping in fright. "From the time they first open their eyes, they are curious. And in that curiosity, they find a need. A need to know everything. A need that is far beyond what is good for them."

I whirled my head around in time to see a figure step out from the shadows soundlessly. I frowned, wondering how this was possible. Mr. Wonka's hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I could see them glint in the darkness. His mouth was curved into a cold smile, devoid of warmth.

"And here you are, Alice, looking exactly how you looked the first time I saw you in the mirror."

It took a while to process that he was talking to me. My tongue felt numb, but I somehow forced myself to speak.

"Y-you can see me?"

"Absolutely."

I gasped. "How? What? Oh god. What is this place?" I half fell to the ground, suddenly weak and drained, sitting on my knees beside the boy.

"This is the Abyss."

"What is it? Is it a recollection of your worst memories?" I had a hundred questions, thrashing about in my head, but somehow this one came out.

He chuckled darkly. "Not nearly my worst. This place is an Abyss. I don't know how it came to be, or even how it exists. This is a place of impossibilities, defying the very laws of nature. The human mind, however, is very limited. The things that we deem impossible due to our myopic understanding may be very much within the realms of possibility, and we simply cannot perceive them to be. It is a recollection of arbitrary memories that have somehow stuck with me over the past years. Not the worst, most significant, or even the best. When this factory was established, I put so much of myself into it that I became… a part of the factory. It became a part of me, thus the Abyss was created. Somehow. They're usually different memories. Always changing around. Nothing is ever consistent around here."

"Are you real?"

"I hope so."

"How do I know you're not just another one of these memories? Just another one of these dreams?" I was sobbing now, the strength leaving me entirely.

He slowly crossed the room, and bent down beside me.

With a gentle hand, he placed it on my cheek, soft and delicate. I melted at his touch.

"Because I can feel you, see you, hear you and smell you. You smell like lavender."

I placed my hand on top of his, gripping to the only thing that was real and solid.

"How do we get out?"

"There's still one door left."

I looked around. "No there isn't."

"Look again." He answered simply, and nodded to the boy in the chair. I frowned at Mr. Wonka, confused, but got up, circling around the boy.

"Oh, god." I shook my head, staring at his jacket. There was a number on the pocket of his jacket, right over his heart. I saw the number '15' on it.

The pocket was bulging slightly, and I reached into the pocket with a shaking hand. It was a small, ornate knife. My hand shook so badly that it fell to the floor with a loud 'Clang'.

I shook my head again, looking at Mr. Wonka desperately.

"Don't tell me I have to-"

"I'm afraid, yes. I would offer to do it myself, but as you were the first of us to enter the Abyss on this occasion, you must be the first to open the uh, 'door'."

"I can't do it. I won't. Don't you have some other way to get out? Some random teleporting device that you invented?" I asked desperately.

"There is only one exit in the Abyss."

"Fuck the Abyss. This is shit. You're saying I have to stab the boy? To stab you?" My voice broke on the last word.

"Unfortunately, yes. But I assure you, it will not affect me whatsoever. This isn't a memory. I'm not quite sure what it is, to be honest."

"Are you sure? How do you know?"

"Because I've been here before. Obviously."

"Oh. Right." I took a deep breath. "So… I just stab him?"

"Yes. Make sure to stab it though the pocket, but it must go through and pierce the heart too."

"Will he feel it?"

"Possibly. I can't be sure. It's not as though he's a real person, but who knows?"

I took a shaky breath. "Ok, I'll do it." I bent down and picked the knife up.

I gripped it more tightly, and with a deep breath and a dickload of courage, I thrust the knife down into Willy Wonka.

I didn't miss anything as it happened. I saw the absolute fear in Willy's eyes turn into silent agony. The glow in his eyes faded as the blade pierced his heart. I felt the flesh rip at the force of the blade. I saw his very life force leave him, as the knife dug into his heart. He lay slack on the chair, and I just stood there, clutching the knife that was plunged deep into his chest. The whole thing was so barbaric, so absurd that a small, insane laugh escaped briefly from my lips, despite the steady stream of tears that flowed freely down my cold cheeks. He didn't die straight away. He lay there for a few moments, his muffled, guttural screams growing weaker and weaker until they died away. He was quiet, and he fell slack, his head drooping. I cried, looking into his eyes as he breathed his final breaths of life.

I placed my injured hand on his exposed neck, apologizing to him repeatedly, my body shaking with sobs.

His eyes bore into mine, and he stopped breathing.

"I'm sorry." I whispered a final time, despite the fact that he was now gone. I told myself that it wasn't real. He wasn't real. But the fact remained that I killed him. The memory of the man I lo- had feelings for.

Despite this burden, I allowed myself a small moment of amazement at his death. It was almost… beautiful. The life, along with it's feelings, it's memories, so gracefully leaving it's vessel and flowing into the unknown without sign or signal. I would attempt to describe it, the way it feels to hold someone you felt such deep affection towards, and with a single action take away their life, but I feel that words would not be sufficient. Another small teardrop fell from my eye onto his pale cheek, and with stiff fingers, released my tight clutch on the hilt. I waited for a second, expecting something to happen now that the deed was done.

Nothing happened, thus far. No burst of white light, no fireworks, no plastic bags or even a house of cards. I looked over my shoulder to where Mr. Wonka stood, expectantly, angrily wiping my cheeks.

"What now?" I asked, my voice breaking slightly at the end.

He nodded towards the boy, and I looked over at him.

Then I saw it.

A luminous blue light was creeping up from the deep cut in boys chest, climbing up the knife slowly. The light, it was beautiful. It almost looked like smoke. Tendrils reached up and wrapped themselves around the knife, climbing higher and higher every time in spiral around the blade and hilt.

I watched, transfixed as the light spread through the boy, flowing gracefully over and in him. A tendril travelled up his chest, through his shoulders, and I saw it appear on the exposed skin of his neck. It flowed over his jaw, making strange patterns until it reached his eyes. They glowed bright blue, a harsh light streaming out of them, and they didn't stop until he was completely covered. Soon, every inch of him had been covered in the mysterious smoke-like light.

I wanted to look back at Mr. Wonka, ask him what was going to happen, but I couldn't tear my eyes from him. I was transfixed.

Suddenly, his forehead cracked open. My mouth fell open. Light streamed out of his forehead, and inside there was nothing else but light.

The crack travelled straight down him, little cracks sprouting out of the bigger one. The light streamed out from him so harshly, so violently and brilliantly, that I staggered back, shielding my eyes from the intensity.

He collapsed into a pile of blue smoke on the ground, and it flowed together into a slightly thick line that was about a meter long. The smoky light surged directly upwards and then froze suddenly, with a slight cracking sound. It became solid, and the newly formed door swung open.

I heard footsteps, and Mr. Wonka stood beside me. I looked up at him, and saw that he was also gazing at me. He smiled when my eyes met his. I looked down, and shyly but determinedly grabbed his hand, gesturing with a nod to the door. He started walking through the door, and I travelled along behind him, still clutching his hand. I didn't want to let go. We walked into the glass elevator, and I felt the door shut and disappear behind me. I could've sworn I heard the faintest sound of a child giggling as I stepped through the glowing blue door. I shivered.

Holding my breath, I pressed the 'Guest Rooms' button.

It lit up, and I felt the elevator shake slightly as it travelled. I peeked up at Mr. Wonka, and found him staring back at me. I looked away.

Outside of the elevator was only a sea of inky blackness. I gazed out of it, losing myself in my thoughts.

It wasn't until Mr. Wonka cleared his throat that I once again became aware of his presence, absorbed as I was. I also came to realize that I was gripping his hand tightly, and released my hold. I busied that hand with supporting my other arm.

I couldn't tell how long we stood in silence in this Stygian void, but time did what it did. It passed.