A/N

Somewhat of a disturbing chapter, but nothing nearly as bad as you'd think. Tweedledee tortures Gaz.

Continuing on from when he pulled her into the room and is now holding her hostage…

"Tweedledee," Gaz gasped, "you're alive?"

Sweaty hands clutched the knife pressed close to her face. She could feel the blade slicing into the skin and expected the blood to spill at any minute. Tweedledee held her close as he pressed his ear to the door, chuckling when he heard Cheshire calling to Alice.

"You didn't think I was giving up on my brother that easily, did you?" He laughed hysterically. "You see, that's the problem with you. You think that everyone will go running and hiding from the mighty Alice." He growled. "Well, you are dead wrong."

"Tweedledee!" Cheshire called from outside of the room. "Please, think about what you are doing. I'm sure if you stop and realize that—"

"No!" He pressed the knife into her face as he screamed. The flesh split with ease. Gaz stifled a cry of pain. She could see the blood gathering at the wound below her eye.

"Alice, I'm going to get you out of there," Cheshire said.

"Is that so?" Tweedledee challenged. He jerked the door open, leaving Cheshire stunned. Using his shock, he slammed the handle of the blade against Cheshire's head. He hit him over and over again. The creature stumbled back and fell to the floor. A pained groan ensured that he was dazed from the assault which Tweedledee took up to drag Gaz down the hall.

"Let go of me!" she shrieked, tugging at his hands.

His head twisted around to face her, eyes wild. "You're going to die, Alice!" he sputtered with eagerness. "I'm going to make sure you suffer just as my poor brother did."

They entered a dim room. At first, she could not make out just what room it was. Only silhouettes stood out. And then she saw. Torture devices were everywhere. From the light pouring in from the hallway, they glistened perilously—their blades, spikes, cuffs, everything. It was the very one Hatter planned to use to slaughter the people gathered for the masquerade to begin his feeding. Momentarily frozen, she overcame her initial shock and struggled against his grip. His temper did not last and he pulled his arm back. She looked up in time to see his fist collide with her face, sending her to the floor.

Her head throbbed. Blood pulsed across her vision. Everything spun in a hazy blur. He entangled his fingers throughout her hair and picked her up. Her legs skidded along the ground as her skirt twisted and flailed around. He was surprisingly strong, pulling her around like it was nothing.

Kicking and thrashing, she fought for all she was worth. It was not enough. She was placed on top of a table where rusted cuffs clasped around her wrists and then her ankles, flakes of hardened gore chipping off. Her face twisted with anger at the lack of control she held, yet her frightened eyes wondered up to the large blade swinging like a pendulum above her head.

In the hallway, she could see that Cheshire was coming to. He stumbled to his feet before bursting into a sprint towards the room.

"Cheshire! Help!" she cried.

Yet the door was kicked shut in his face by Tweedledee who fastened the numerous locks running up and down the metal door. Cheshire's strained grunts floated through the tiny window with bars on the door as he strained to get in.

Tweedledee wandered over to a wooden chest. The handle would not budge so he grabbed a hammer he found and smashed it open. Splintered pieces of wood shot out along with slivers of the copper handle and lock. His hands plunged into the darkness, searching. Gaz's chin dug into her chest with her head craning to look down at him. What was he looking for? More importantly, what would he find?

"Tweedledee, listen to me," she panted. "You don't have to do this. This is just evil and you are not evil. Don't you remember? You were so terrified of Hatter that you didn't even want to be near him. If you do this, you'll be just like him!"

Her heart beat against her chest, causing it to ache. Was the room spinning around her, or was the fear finally running its toll? She swallowed hard when she found that the walls of her throat were constricted and dry.

He did not seem to hear her reasoning. The clanking from the chest ensued until finally, he sucked in a shuddering gasp, as though even he was shocked to find the discovery he had made. He pulled a case out. The wood was chipping and decaying from overexposure to humid moisture. He staggered over to the table she lay on and set the small container down on her stomach. Peering up at her, he watched her closely and pulled out each object one at a time.

The first was a bottle with clouded glass and an old cork fastened firmly in its mouth. A thick, clear liquid sloshed inside, clinging to the walls of the bottle before oozing back down. The second item was a candle with some matches. The third was a handful of pills that slipped through his fingers like black pebbles. He held them before his face and watched gleefully as they trickled down.

"This," he held up the bottle with the liquid, "when taken, will make you paralyzed immediately. And this," he held up the pills, "can make your lungs fall apart, chunk by chunk, right inside your body when ingested." He smiled. "You'll suffocate."

She shivered, eyeing each one. "And the candle?"

"Oh!" He plucked it up. "For this." He dangled the match above the wick. The cord quickly snagged the flame, but he did not stop there. Instead, he held the fire close to the wax till it melted, wads dripping down the side. Without hesitation, he coiled her glove down to her hand and held her wrist back so that the underside of her arm was exposed.

"Wait! What are you—?"

He pressed the melted wax to her arm, just above the crease of her elbow. She hollered an agonized scream. The wax clung to her skin and turned it pink, raw. He snickered and pulled the candle away. He peeled the burning, dribbled white disks away to expose the bubbled up flesh beneath. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Oh, God," she wept. She tried once more. "Cheshire..." She sucked in. "Zim."

He lowered his face to hers, and cried along with her. "Does it hurt, Alice?" he asked.

She nodded, gritting her teeth at the pain.

He stroked her face and said "I know," and scraped the blood clotted to her face. "I'm sorry." He wiped a tear from his cheek and smeared it across hers. Then he stole a drop from her face to slather it cross his. "Now we're feeling each other's pain," he ruled.

Stepping away, he searched the rack hanging on the wall. Pokers, blades, axes, and other medieval weapons hung. One sword had a jagged blade as if the blacksmith had mistakenly malformed it, altogether hindering what it could have been. It was chosen.

Tweedledee set it down next to her. He sat down on the table that she was strapped to. "I just need to make you suffer. I want you to hurt. Everything that ever happened to Tweedledum, it was your fault. You had to come, Alice. You couldn't stay away. This is going to hurt, okay?"

"Tweedledee, please!" she begged. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt anyone! I didn't kill your brother. It was the Hatter. Back in the Skool. He was trying to crawl out the window to escape but he didn't make it. The Hatter got him before he could get away. You found him right after. Don't you remember?"

He squinted. "How did you know that? No one else was there. How could you possibly know that?"

She frowned, feeling the threat of defeat rising. It had merely been a memory when she revisited Tweedledum's death. There was no way she could explain all of that to Tweedledee, especially in his current mental state. It did not matter, though, for she did not have time before Tweedledee snatched the bottle of liquid up.

"Once you're paralyzed, you are going to endure the most pain you have ever felt," his unrecognizable voice snarled. "No more mercy or sympathy," he hissed. "I've been taking it too easy on you. I'm not going to feel sorry for this."

The veil was torn from the top of her head. He grabbed her face, his nails digging in. He was ready to pry her mouth open to get it down her throat if he had to. She clenched her jaw as tight as she could. She would not budge so he pinched his fingers over her nose. Still struggling, she realized that she would have to breathe soon. Her lungs burned and she held it to the last second. Without another option, she gasped, opening her mouth. She tried to quickly clamp her mouth shut once again before he could get to her but somewhere along the way, he managed to grab something. It was a mask. He fastened it to her head where a pipe ran across the front. It was shoved between her teeth and held her mouth open just enough for him to complete his job.

Yet there was no time for him to shove the bottle passed her lips. There was no time to force her to drink it. For at that exact moment, right when the drug was nearing, the door to the room crumbled. The metal crippled inward and the locks exploded outward as the door fell to the floor. And standing there, teeth gritted, eyes fiery, was Hatter.

A/N

As you can tell, Tweedledee is definitely gone. One minute he is laughing because he likes seeing Gaz hurt, and the next he is crying when he sees her cry.

I love the ending because the Hatter arrives and is madder than you know what. You're relieved for Gaz's sake 'cause he will see to it that she is not tortured anymore, but at the same time you feel the opposite way since he is just as evil, if not more.

Heads up: the next chapter will most likely—which is basically saying it will most certainly—be violent/gory.

Chapter 36 will be up soon.