8 Years Later

"Happy Birthday!"

The small group of people applauded as a little girl with strawberry blonde hair and sea green eyes leaned across an oak table and blew eight candles out. She beamed at the noise and squealed in delight when her father's arms wrapped around her waist and she was lifted into the air. "Happy birthday, sunshine!"

Nicholas set Cynthia down on the ground and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress that he had created. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and then let her run off to grab her presents. He straightened up and watched her rip through the paper Anna had spent so much time on wrapping. He smiled at the little girl's enthusiasm. A cough like a tinkling bell made him turn around.

In the corner, separate from the festivities, sat his other daughter. Mary was fifteen now, almost sixteen. She wore a dress of dark blue, accentuating her sapphire eyes, with a high neck and a laced corset on the outside. Her long, silky black hair was tied up in a tight bun. Around her neck was a string of pearls, and these she touched occasionally as if to make sure they were still there. She was completely absorbed in the book she was reading, or so it appeared. Her eyes weren't moving, however, and she wasn't retaining anything in the book.

Nicholas watched her for a second. He was completely aware of what was happening, and prayed what came next was gentle. After a few moments she gasped, her eyes widening slightly and her rigid posture dissolved as she slumped against the wall she had been sitting against. Nicholas clenched his hands in anticipation, ready to silence her in case her episode put any one in danger, as they had before.

Mary coughed again and whispered, "It's a dollhouse." Across the room, Cynthia was unwrapping the large present that had been sent by her grandparents. The little girl glanced at her older sister before continuing on with tearing the paper. When the last shred was gone, her eyes widened, and she stared at Mary.

It was a dollhouse.

Nicholas crossed swiftly to Mary and gave her a stern look. "Now, Mary," he said in a low whisper, so the others, including the nanny, maid and cook, couldn't hear, "don't do this. Let your sister have her fun. What have I told you about these visions? You need to keep them controlled and most importantly, secret!"

Mary looked at her father with wide, resentful eyes. "Father, I can't help it. I can't control them, they don't work like that."

Nicholas had very little patience for Mary, since the incident so long ago. "You'd better try" he said, and stalked away towards Cynthia. Mary watched him with hurt eyes before turning back to her book.

An hour later, Cynthia was upstairs in her playroom with the nanny, blissfully playing with her new toys. Mary sat in the parlor embroidering a pillow and singing softly to herself. Just as she was putting the finishing touches on a tiny little cottage, the familiar feeling started to creep in. It started like a tingling behind the ears, as if something tiny was crawling along your scalp. Then, the tingling moved deeper and became louder; reverberating through her head until she feared her head would explode. Then, the world fell away around her and she was left to the mercy of her visions.

"No," she thought urgently, "control it. Make it go away! It must go away!" But it was too late. The vision was flowing full force through her head, sending random images into her mind. She saw people, snippets of them. It was as if someone was flipping through a picture book much too fast. She saw a beautiful girl, with blonde hair. A young man with honey blonde hair and a kind expression; now, a woman with curly brown hair, her arms out as if waiting to embrace Alice; a young man with bronze hair and a teenage girl, tanner than the rest, with a timid, yet confident expression; an overgrown man with curly brown hair. All except for the scared teenage girl had the same shade of eyes, a curious golden color. Then, another vision came in and pushed them all away. It was a young man, with curious but guarded eyes, but these were blood red. His light hair fell around his ears, looking windblown. Though his eyes were wary, he was smiling widely, revealing gleaming white teeth. He seemed to shine with light, and Alice felt attracted to him immediately. She found herself wishing he was real. She felt her vision self reaching out towards the heavenly boy, inching closer with every stretch. His hand was almost on hers when the vision changed.

It was no longer the blonde man, but another. His muddy brown hair was cropped short, and his eyes, the same blood red as the one before. Except, where those eyes had been kind, if a little wary, these eyes were wild, calculating and ruthless. The man sized Mary up and the corners of his mouth pulled up in a terrifying smile, his teeth gleaming white. Mary shivered involuntarily and tried to pull herself from the vision, but she couldn't. The man sensed her terror and smiled wider, moving forward slowly. "No!" Mary thought, "Visions don't happen like this!" Her visions were more like images, not real life things. She had never interacted with a vision before, and she didn't know what would happen if she did. Yet, the man continued to move forward until he stood less than a foot from Mary. She tried to move, but she couldn't. Her feet stayed rooted, she couldn't even blink. The man cocked his head to the side, curious, as he raised his left hand, palm up, and held it there. Mary felt her arm start to move of its own accord, until it rested in the hand of the man. She felt a strong tingling, as if her arm had fallen asleep, but no actual pressure from the hand. He stepped back, pulling her hand with him, but she remained rooted. He kept walking, and she wondered how he could be moving so far back with her, as he still held her hand.

Then she realized.

The man was towing a tiny girl, with black hair and a petite figure away from Mary. She couldn't see the girl's face. She wanted to call out, to warn the girl that this man couldn't be trusted, but for what for she didn't know. She tried in vain to call out to the girl, her vocal chords solid and unmoving. Yet, slowly the girl turned to face Mary.

And suddenly she was looking at herself.

It was a phantom Mary with this menacing stranger. She knew that she was till here, rooted to the spot, only in a vision, but yet she could see herself several yards away, could see what was happening.

The man raised the phantom Mary's arm up until it was at the level of his face. He made a motion as if to kiss the exposed wrists, but instead inhaled deeply. He was smelling her wrist, Mary realized. His mouth parted, and a tongue slid out to whet the thin pale lips, which then curled upwards until the man appeared as if he were in mid snarl.

And then he sunk his teeth into her wrist.

Mary felt a sharp pain, and another feeling, almost like burning but very far away it seemed, through her body before the sulfurous odor of smelling salts awakened her.

She opened her eyes lazily and gazed around. Leaning over Mary was her governess, her eyes full of concern. Behind her stood Nicholas, arms crossed with a look of disappointment in his eyes. "You were screaming," He said, "you had spasms for a few minutes, but then you stopped and didn't move until just now."

Mary's face flushed as she tried to haul herself to her feet, only to find out that her legs wouldn't support her. She swayed before her governess steadied her. She strong, older woman led fragile Mary to her room, where she left the girl to be alone with her thoughts.