We're all mad here

~Uric~

I hate cats. I suppose I haven't always hated cats, but you would hate them too if you had the ugliest specimen of the feline family living in your home. He is a mangy, grey, and black mottled thing with a long whippy tail. No matter how much he eats, that cat is still completely emaciated, I can count all of his scrawny ribs. For all that, he is incredibly strong, and he seems clever enough. The word 'devious' springs to mind.

I must admit that it isn't just the cat that I hate; it is the human that brought it here that is the focus of my distaste. She too is a scrawny, scraggly haired little thing. Alice Liddell, my Mother's charity case. Mother was a good friend of Alice's parents who died in a fire over ten years ago. The girl's been living in an asylum ever since, or she had been until a month ago last Thursday when Rutledge's was closed down by the authorities for inhumane treatment of patients. All of the other 'residents', if you want to call them that, went to live in other hospitals, but Mother wouldn't hear of it.  No, Alice had to come live with us.

It's almost impossible to sit here writing while she paces back and forth in front of the large windows of the study, the cat winding through her feet, and threatening to trip her up. The way her burning green eyes stare intently out the window at the snow covered ground two story's below is quite disconcerting. It's even more disconcerting when she flicks that acid gaze towards my chair.

"It's very impolite to stare at one so." She speaks suddenly, whirling around to glare at me. Her hand curls around an invisible object for a moment, and then slowly uncurls as she looks down at the cat. He rubs his face against her leg for a moment, making an almost human sound in the pit of his throat.

I shiver slightly as the cat leers at me, almost as if his lips would curl back from his sharp teeth in a wicked smile if they could. I pick up my writing stylus and paper and rush from the room.

~*~

~Alice~

I watch Uric rush from the room, Cheshire puss chuckling darkly as he curls up contentedly in the warm space the boy had previously occupied. "He certainly puts on airs doesn't he?" I query as I continue my measured tread. Back and forth, one foot in front of the other, one end of the picture window to the other.

"I wish he wouldn't stare at me so." I add, smoothing a hand down the front of my pinafore, fingers lingering over the carefully stitched symbols over each pocket.

Cat stretches and yawns, clearly bored with me again. Ah well, I suppose we've rested long enough here. Time to return to my room and cast my imagination towards Wonderland, still so much to do.

As I walk past Uric's bedroom, I peek inside. He is still hunched over his papers, writing as usual. Broad black strokes of ink forming nonsense words that I daresay probably mean a great deal to him.

        I smile pleasantly at Nurse Diana as she lets me into my room and relocks the door. At least I know where I am; Uric thinks she is his mother. Personally, I think Nurse D encourages him too much.

        As Cat is fond of saying, "We're all mad here."