WARNING
This chapter contains scenes depicting and discussing bipolar disorder.
7
Alice is sitting at the statue waiting for Iracebeth an hour later. Now having caught up with her work, she's given herself one less thing to worry about, leaving her meeting with the Red Queen at the forefront of her mind.
Perhaps this is why she didn't notice Professor Alden approach her.
"Miss Kingsleigh."
Alice raises her head to meet the constantly disapproving gaze of her Astronomy teacher. "Hello, Professor Alden." she says cooly. If he gives her another assignment today after this morning's latest pile of work, so help her —
"Professor Flora tells me your work has been suffering."
Damn her over-attentiveness! Wait, suffering? Her art hasn't been that awful, has it?"How so?" she asks, attempting to maintain some semblance of calm.
"She says that you keep using the same theme over and over again. No deviation, no expression beyond blue and white. As she put it, you seem to have lost your muchness since Mirana left."
"Muchness?"
"The essence of what makes you, you." Professor Alden explains dismissively. "She has asked me to tell you that she requests a meeting with you at your earliest convenience. I, of course, told her that she shouldn't cater to you, since you did skip her class and are essentially squandering your intellect —"
Alice really can't help what comes out next. "What made you her errand boy?" The thought of Professor Alden doing anything for anybody just sounds outright absurd.
Professor Alden's features twist into a scowl, but Alice doesn't recoil. He's been torturing her all week with his extra work and snide commentary; she's owed at least this one barb. When he sees that she has no intention of taking back what she said, he continues. "She is a respected colleague of mine. I did her a favor. I am no one's errand boy." he snarls, seeming to take more offense than necessary. "You're the one with a silly school girl crush." With that, before Alice can protest, he turns on his heel and storms off while still holding the same powerful gait.
Alice balls up her hand and punches the ground, leaving a decent size dent. That man can go to hell for all she cares. He deliberately antagonizes her on a regular basis; where does he get off? To top it all off, she's got Professor Flora on her case as well. The woman means well, she supposes, but honestly half the time her concerns feel downright invasive.
"Aren't you going to bow?"
Stayne's condescending voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She sees Iracebeth, hands on her hips, waiting for her to do so. Oh, right. She's supposed to pretend to be on her side now. Alice rises and bends into a half-hearted curtsey, ignoring the stab to her pride. She notices that Iracebeth has only brought Stayne with her this time. Why would the Red Queen meet with her without her entire entourage?
"Where's the Jabberwocky?" she asks.
Iracebeth rolls her eyes. "He doesn't trust you, so I sent him hunting with the Bandersnatch. He'll come around eventually. Stupid boy's hopelessly in love with me, but honestly, who can blame him?" She fluffs her hair a little at that, smiling. Stayne is not so amused, but with that ever-present scowl, it's impossible to tell. She takes his hand possessively. "We're going to my dorm. Follow us."
Iracebeth's dorm is the definition of Hell brought to the surface. Her walls, unlike the rest of the dorms, are painted pitch black, accented with crimson red curtains and covered with heavy metal posters. Her room is somewhere in between neat and tidy, with just enough out of place to be considered cluttered. Her bed is an enormous queen with a heart shaped plush headboard done up in the same red and black that runs throughout the sheets, blankets, and pillow pile, and is also the only one in the room. She must have kicked out any potential roommates ages ago, if they hadn't run off already. All through the room are miniature models of various graphic death scenes, the most noteworthy sculptures being a tiny knight scorched by a great horned dragon and another with a pillory encasing a queen dressed all in white perched on what appears to be a music box mechanism, the dark hooded executioner standing erect, axe held high in mid-swing. Curiouser and curiouser. Upon closer examination of the queen's face, Alice realizes with a sickening sensation that it is Mirana, painted in horrifyingly accurate detail, eyes wide with fear. She's not sure how Iracebeth had this made, but she's fairly certain that she does not want to know.
The Red Queen notices her appearing to admire the scene and smiles. "That's an anniversary present from Stayne. Cost him nearly three-hundred pounds."
Alice's jaw drops. "Three-hundred pounds? How on earth —?"
"I have my ways." Stayne says with a self-satisfied smirk. "There is no price on my Queen's happiness. If it were possible, I would make that scene a reality."
If it weren't for their apparent sadism, Alice might have found something in that sweet rather than nauseating. She watches, masking her horror as Iracebeth winds the box to demonstrate. An eerie tune begins, swelling as the executioner raises the axe higher and higher, before abruptly cutting itself short when the axe swings down, beheading the White Queen. Iracebeth looks to Alice for approval, perhaps, as she resets the box, and Alice forces herself to smile.
Iracebeth sits on her bed, pulling Stayne with her, and gestures toward her desk chair, the desk bearing another miniature scene of a real Jabberwocky in midchase after a crowd of people with thick red hair. "Sit." Alice does, a bit hesitantly, onto the lacy red cushion on top of the chair that slides a little. "So tell me how you did it. Don't leave out a single detail."
Oh, Hell. Got to think of something quick. She probably should have spent time thinking up that master plan in the library as well. No, it's okay. Think of it like a painting. The picture will tell the story itself. Alice picks up her mental paintbrush and begins.
Mirana, moving about, as if in a dream, hands aloft as if conducting a symphony following her wherever she glides. Alice from afar, watching, transfixed, leaning against a column, perhaps.
"Well, I had to get her alone first."
"Done that." Stayne snorts. "That's the first thing we do. What else?"
They meet halfway, and Mirana takes Alice's arm.
This is becoming more of a fantasy by the minute. Reel it in, Kingsleigh. An idea strikes her. The mental paintbrush is tossed aside, for now, in favor of embellishing the truth with a few well-placed lies.
"Would you say your parents are very conservative?" she asks.
Iracebeth raises an eyebrow. "Why?"
Alice takes that as a yes and proceeds. "Because I told her that someone here has a crush on her. Someone female, and that she'd catch it if she stayed here."
She waits with baited breath, hoping Iracebeth buys it. She doesn't really like describing sexuality as a disease, but from what she's learned, it's possible that some people actually believe that.
After a moment that seems to stretch into an eternity, Iracebeth throws her hands up in frustration.
"It was that simple!" She turns to Stayne, sulking. "Why didn't you think of that?"
Stayne shrugs, clearly unsure of why this is his fault. "It never crossed my mind?" he offers.
Iracebeth swats his arm none too gently. "You ought to take lessons from her, then." Stayne glowers at Alice at that, not liking being outperformed one bit. Iracebeth, oblivious to any of it, carries on. "That explains why she checked herself in, then."
"Checked herself in?"
"That is what I said. Yes, into Rutledge. She's always overreacted to this sort of thing, thinking that it's something you can catch. I don't really mind it much, but Daddy says that it's a crime against God."
Alice barely hears that last bit, ears latching on to Rutledge. The name is uncannily familiar, a part of her past she'd buried long ago. She needs to talk to Tarrant, now.
She gets up abruptly and heads for the door. "I have to go."
"So soon?" Stayne sneers, clearly glad to be rid of her.
"Yes, why can't you stay?"
Alice mumbles some excuse about bookwork and heads out the door.
Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap!
"Tarrant, open up!"
Tarrant's muffled response barely comes through the door. "Not now, Alice!"
There are sounds of a scuffle, a thud, and some grunting coming through on Alice's end. What is he doing in there? Then she hears Bayard say:
"McTwisp, you've got to take this!"
Another voice answers, one Alice has never heard before, a deep growl, then another thud, a groan.
"There's no point anymore, Bayard! I've simply gone mad!"
"You're not yourself!" Tarrant counters. "Hold still! Ow!"
Someone giggles, but mirthlessly, the madness evident in the haunting sound that chills Alice to her core. She knows the sound all too well. Her knocking grows more insistent, urgent. She has to get in and see what's going on.
"Let me in!"
Another groan, then:
"Bayard, I think I've got him. Go let Alice in."
"But McTwisp-!"
"Did this to himself. Now open the door!"
The door sticks for a moment before it is yanked back. Bayard stands in the doorway, sporting several bruises on his right arm. He pulls Alice inside and slams the door shut.
Tarrant is holding down a flailing McTwisp on the floor. A broken syringe lies nearby, amber liquid leaking out. McTwisp jerks his head left and right, eyes unseeing. He cries out, but the voice is not his.
"Gerroffme!" he growls.
He lands a kick to Tarrant's stomach, a surprising display of strength, knocking the Hatter back. Bayard kicks into action, grabbing McTwisp's legs and bowling him over just as Tarrant runs back to grab his arms.
"Don't just stand there!" Tarrant yells. "Go into my dresser, top drawer." Alice races over, pulling the drawer open. He continues, attempting to stabilize his tone. "Get one of the syringe packets and open it, plunger end to pull it out, and don't touch the other end." The white paper is ripped apart, tossed aside in the moment. "Get a needle and open it from the colored end, then screw it into the top of the syringe." Another bit of paper cast aside, needle screwed into the syringe, still capped. "Take the cap off and adjust the needle so it's about half out." He carries on. "Get one of those vials," he cuts Alice off when he sees her about to ask. "They're all the same, unscrew the cap and stab the needle in there." The cap flies off and Alice sticks the needle through the paper cover. "Now turn the vial over, and carefully release the plunger until it's filled about halfway. Pull it out and bring it over here."
Alice comes over, carefully this time, not wanting to break the syringe. Seeing the needle, McTwisp thrashes faster, jerking away.
"Get that out of my face! You think you can silence me? I am stronger now! I can lead the revolution! Destroy the poison!"
"Jab it into his arm, Alice." Tarrant says calmly, but his face says otherwise.
"You don't know what you're doing!"
"Now, Alice!" Bayard snarls, eyes wild with panic.
Alice jabs the needle into his arm. McTwisp continues to thrash, even as the syringe is drained completely, shouting expletives.
It was the longest seven minutes ever spent.
McTwisp comes to a shuddering stop, then goes completely limp, eyes drooping shut.
Tarrant pulls him to his feet before passing him off to Bayard. "Take him to the nurse."
Bayard nods and scoops McTwisp up and into his arms, closing the door noticeably quieter.
Tarrant falls back onto his bed with an exhausted sigh. Alice moves to sit beside him, setting the syringe on top of the dresser.
"What was that all about?" she asks.
Tarrant buries his face in his hands, massaging his eyes. "McTwisp had a relapse. He's been off his meds for at least a week now."
"Relapse? What does he have?"
He drops his hands to his side, but he keeps clenching and unclenching his fists, crumpling his blanket. "Bipolar disorder. This is his first relapse in two years. I got sedatives for him the first time it happened freshman year. Never thought I'd have to use them."
Alice shifts on his bed, shelving her own dilemma aside for once. "Why did he stop his meds?"
"When Mirana left, it set him off. Made him lose hope completely. He just… gave up. But he still wanted others on schedule." He laughs a little at that, tired eyes crinkling at the corners. "Funny, he wants everyone else on time, but that watch he wears is what keeps him on time for his medicine. Mirana was the one that gave it to him." He props himself up on his elbows, and when he speaks again, his voice is small and sad, lacking its usual jovial lilt. "It's all so awful now, and it can only get worse. Without a leader, we have nothing. More of us will be beaten into the ground, more of us will burn out from all the stress, and more of us will just give up because it won't be worth trying anymore, because who cares about exams and papers and commissions when your friends are all slowly dying all around you and-" He stops to take a shuddering breath, and it is then that Alice notices the tears welling up in his eyes. "I was wrong, Alice. This war affects us all. So please, tell me that you've learned something about Mirana's whereabouts, because she is our only hope. Tell me that's why you've come here."
Alice wordlessly pulls him into her arms, adjusting his hat to settle it more firmly onto his head. The dam breaks loose then, and for the first time, the Hatter cries.
They stay that way for a few more minutes before Alice pulls away and finally breaks the silence.
"Mirana's in Rutledge Asylum. She checked herself in, and it's all my fault."
"Rutledge?" Tarrant's eyes darken, and he switches accents in seconds. "Ye mean th' sam Rutledge wi 'at wankstain Bumby?!"
"How did you know?"
"Ah was thaur a year until mah parents gae up. Rutledge's no asylum. It's conversion therapy fur onie LGBTQ fowk." His hands ball into fists. Mah hat was th' only hin' 'at kept me sane. Mostly."
"Then we've got to get her out as soon as possible"