~The Second Alice~

"Citizens of Wonderland, I have a vision where this kingdom will be united. In my vision, no such thing as conflict or war exists, and everyone can co-exist with one another. . . "

I rolled my eyes at the self proclaimed "King's" speech. Peace? Kindness? That was -and still is- a fools' dream; an unrealistic fantasy that would never take place.

I half-listened to his so called "vision" as I walked towards the execution spot where I would spend the last moments of my life before I would get killed, looking down at my metal shackles, finding it more interesting than what that fool was saying. It was like he had never lived a day in the real world; either that or he had a very small brain.

Did he expect everyone to hold hands, form a ring around a heart-warming bonfire, and sing inspirational hymns after everyone had a turn to spill their guts out? I bit back a chuckle at the hilarious scene forming in my head. Humans are incapable of that kind of actions by nature. A reflex for them is to ostracize anything "out of the norm". They treat the poor with contempt, taunting them with their own riches. They avoided people whose appearance did not meet their ridiculous expectations, as if they were diseased. They would kill and use underhanded tactics at whim to achieve what they wanted. When they wanted to shirk their responsibilities, they simply abandoned it, uncaring how their reckless decision would affect others.

But that was the past. The two guards beside me jerked at my chains, signaling for me to stop walking. I sighed heavily. The "King" is still spilling out this touching speech that I had dubbed as total bullshit. And to think that was the last thing I heard before I leave this wretched world.

I willed my eyes to close, forcing all outside sound and imagery to be driven away from my mind. All noise became a background murmur and I was able to recall the only time I was happy and freed of all hatred I possessed towards Wonderland, before it was cruelly ripped away from my grasp.

It was a warm, sunny morning. Spring had recently come, warming the world with it's air of renewed hope and new beginnings. People normally celebrate the season for the blooming of flowers, a sign that all their worries would poof away into nothingness.

But spring to me shows the harsh, icy cold known as winter had finally been killed, until it shows up in another year. I didn't believe in renewed hope and new beginnings. For me, hope had died a longtime ago, and I know from experience that new beginnings would never happen; life for me would always be the same-harsh and lonely.

I laid on the ground, choosing to stay still for a little while longer, to stay in my own little world before facing reality. But the nearby birds had some grudge against me, because they kept chirping out their annoying sounds. I groaned, reluctantly got up, and threw a rock at them, successfully scattering them in various directions. But my triumph was short-lived, for they soon convened at that same spot, continuing on as if nothing happened.

Scowling, I briskly walked away from the alley, shielding my eyes as the sun began to shine it's bright rays, targeting my face.

"Gross. It's that street girl, what's-her-face. . ."

"You know, I was taking a stroll yesterday and I saw her digging through trash!"

"That poorly-dressed pathetic excuse of a human shouldn't exist."

I was tempted to scream, but decided it was not worth my time and continued on my way.

"It's not like I wanted this kind of life," I muttered bitterly, resentment and anger bubbling up. "I didn't want to live outside, unshielded from the cruel weather, wearing tattered rags, and always wondering when my next meal will come."

That's right. I was poor, lived on the streets, and owned nothing but the clothes on my back. Unlike those selfish, wasteful brats who were well off, I had nothing; no house, family, or even a name.

In my dreams, I vaguely remember someone who took care of me. He gave me everything a girl would need, making me feel there was a reason to be happy and carefree. I would always run up and hug him, inhaling his scent. I've only smelled it one other time, but I don't recall the name. When he gave me piggy back rides, I would snuggle in closer to his warm, wide back. When his huge hand covered mine, I felt safe.

But that person is gone now. These memories of him are the small things I can remember when I was a toddler. As soon as I gained full awareness of the world, I was alone, struggling to survive.

From those vague memories, I know he was a nice man. But I can't help but think of him negatively. He left me to fend for myself in this cruel, horrible world, a place no one should be left alone, much less a fourteen year old. But fate does not spare anyone, regardless of race, age, belief, gender, or intellect. Ironic how that fate is the only thing that treats everyone and everything equally in this messed up reality.

I was distracted, my thoughts directed at how I was going to snag my next meal when I collided with someone, knocking me down to the ground.

"Oww. . . " I whined in pain, rubbing my now-sore bottom. "Hey bastard! Watch where your going!"

I glared at him expectantly, but the guy stared at me with this curious expression. I took a quick glance over his appearance.

He wore a long navy blue coat, a tan shirt, and black pants. Behind his glasses were violent eyes, and his hair was a wavy brown, a wild strand appearing in the front of his face.

It was obvious he was one of those rich people in the city. It annoyed me how he kept looking at me, as if this was the first time he's seen a homeless person. I snapped at him, my arms ready to claw at him any moment.

"What the hell are you looking at?" I demanded.

The man continued to stare, his eyes moving up and down behind his glasses, as if he was observing me. He was annoying me and my blood boiled even more. "I'm not something on display. Get the fuck away from me."

He completely ignored my statement and continued to stare, now focusing on my arms. I twitched and my left arm pulled back, ready to beat the daylights of the guy. I aimed for his cheek, letting my fist fly towards the target.

He stopped my attack with his bare palm, and held my fist in his hand. He quickly stood up and began to briskly walk towards a nearby bench, dragging me with him.

"Fuckin' let go of me rapist!" I jerked away, repeatedly hitting his arm with my free hand, though nothing fazed him. He forced me to sit on the bench. He pulled something from the inner, shallow depths of his pocket. I slightly flinched, still trying to escape.

The man's cough interrupted me from my mental declaration. "Now," he stated irritated, "Can you stay still so I can mend your clothing?" He pulled out a small sewing kit and began to thread the thin string through the needle's eye.

I bit his hand, only letting go once I tasted blood. Surprised, his grip on my loosened and I took back my arm successfully. "Why the hell would I stay still? I'm not some stupid dumb-ass. That needle's probably poisoned or something."

The guy stared at me wide-eyed as I grinned at his reaction. I flipped him off and turned around. I took a step forward and my knees grew weak. My hands flew to my stomach, gripping it tightly. I groaned and crumpled to the ground. As I fell, my head collided with the pavement, knocking me unconscious.

I blinked slowly, my head throbbed as if a thousand of needles had pierced my skull. I slowly raised my head, still a bit disoriented. I saw a familiar man in front of me, staring at me with concern. There was a certain smell that came from him, enchanting me into a trance. "Fa. ..ther?" The fog in my mind cleared and I realized with disappointment and embarrassment that it was that glasses-guy from earlier.

Where the hell am I? I thought, frantically looked around, seeing people calmly eating, once in a while chatting with their companion while women dressed in maid outfits darted from table to table, furiously writing down the orders from their customers. I took a couple of deep breaths and looked at my surroundings once again, realizing I was at the nearby tavern, the one I periodically steal food from.

The smell of newly cooked food wafted from the kitchen, my stomach growling as a reaction. I had no idea what kind of food the cooks were making, but my mouth was drooling at the delicious aroma.

It seems that he didn't hear my accidental spill. "Are you okay? I figured you were going to be hungry once you woke up, since it is past noon."

I tried to mask my emotions as I thought of a good comeback, when I smelled hot, fresh soup laid in front of me. I felt as if the soup and I were the only things that existed at the moment. I held the silver spoon (an actual silver, clean spoon!) as if I had just one the biggest battles in history. I scooped up the creamy liquid and gulped it down, not minding the burning sensation. The way the soup slid down my throat down to my stomach felt nice and I mentally declared for this soup to be the best thing ever made.

I continued to eat, angels singing every time the spoonful of soup entered my mouth. Only when I took my last bite did the man chuckle in amusement, breaking the spell cast upon me. My eyes snapped to him, "What are you laughing at. Never seen a girl eat before?"

"It's just that you ate it as if it was the first time you ate in a long time. I'm sorry. It's rude of me to laugh," he looked at me apologetically. Immediately, a pang of guilt rushed through me, though I forcefully pushed it away, rejecting the emotion.

I shrugged, involuntarily relaxing. "No, your right. It's been. . ." I paused, counting the days in my head, "almost a week since I've last eaten."

He looked horrified and immediately lectured me, " Are you trying to kill yourself? Trying to lose weight this way is incorrect and puts your life in danger. Your body will go into starvation mode and your stomach will turn nearby muscles into fat and start to digest it, while the rest of your muscles deteriorate. Not to mention your organs will shut down," he signaled a nearby waitress and rapidly pointed at several meals on the menu, ordering it to be delivered to their table A.S.A.P.

That's something new; it's like he actually cares about my self-being, I thought. But his answer pisses me off.

"Yes, I'm trying to kill myself in the slowest and most painful way as possible," I responded, my answer heavily dripped in sarcasm. I dropped it and began to yell at him. "You think I want to kill myself? What kind of sad-excuse of a human wants that? I didn't eat because I couldn't, not because I want to fuckin' lose any more weight!"

I huffed and crossed my arms, contemplating whether or not I should leave. But the waitress came back, her arms full of food that my desire to eat overpowered all other thoughts, demanding I should stay.

"I am terribly sorry for assuming such a thing, but please eat. I insist," He said this softly, looking at the table cloth, feeling shameful of himself. I bit back a smile, forcing my face to show indifference instead. I'm just staying for the food. After I'm done, I'm leaving.

I silently ate, keeping an eye on the guy as I did. But he just smiled when I took my first bite, looking as happy as a child getting a cake on his birthday. I stopped eating; the untrusting side of me taking over. I eyed the food suspiciously, "Why are you smiling? Did you slip in something? 'Cuz if you did, then I swear I'll take this chair and repeatedly smack you in the head."

He shook his head,"I didn't do anything to your food. I'm just glad that your eating. I'm a doctor, so I'm very concerned about your health."

I tried to find a part of him that would give away his ulterior motive, but what he said seemed in all sincerity, so I continued to eat. "Would you still care about my health if I said I was an orphan living on the streets with no way to pay you?" Though I'm glad he was paying for my food, I don't want him to find out later that I can't pay him back. He'll probably demand some ridiculous task I have to do in order to repay him.

" A person is a person and it is the duty of a doctor to take care of everyone they see injured or have need of medical attention," he replied casually, as if he got this type of question every single day.

"Then your pretty different then the rest, doc. Just don't ask, or expect me to pay you back later," I replied. I was surprised, but I knew that he is only saying what a noble person would say. No one would really think that way, for humans in general only take care of those who have money. Besides, he's rich, and from my past experiences, I know rich people shouldn't be trusted.

The conversation between us dropped, an awkward silence between us. He looked uncomfortable, distracting me from my delicious food. I sighed. "If you have something to say, just say it so I can continue eating."

He looked at me in all seriousness which kind of freaked me out. "I know I'm speaking out of line, but I wonder what happened that made you act with such a cynical attitude."

I almost laughed at his question. "Is that all? And I thought you were thinking up a solution to end world hunger! I told you I was an orphan. Whoever took care of me before abandoned me before I was 5. For nine years I've been living on the streets. Is that a good-enough answer for you?"

He looked like if he just solved a murder mystery. "So that's why you act all cynical. You try to keep people away so you won't have to experience abandonment again from someone you bonded with. You are trying to keep people away purposefully so you won't get hurt," he said matter-of-factly.

I felt my face get red and I slammed my hand on the table. "What kind of crap are you sprouting out! I'm like this because it's my personality, not to protect me or whatever. So what gives you the right to assume that?"

I walked out of the local restaurant, feeling the stares of the other customers boring holes in my back, not that I cared. What the hell was that guy saying? Protecting me so I don't get hurt? As if! If I'm not like this, then I would be dead by now. Damn doctor.

I became aware of footsteps following me. Angrily, I turned around. "What the hell do you want now!"

Panting, he held out his hand, ignoring my question. "I am Doctor Roderich Edelstein. What is your name?"

He insults me and he expects us to be friends? As if! I glared at him coldly, " I don't have one. Go away before I murder you."

He must have been super oblivious to not notice the growing animosity I have towards him. He remained silent in thought before responding. "Then I'll think of a good name for you. Of course I have to spend time with you in order to pick a suitable name."

I groaned. What do I have to do in order to get that guy away from me!

I saw he was still smiling, his hand still waiting for a handshake or some sort of response. "I give up. You can follow me, but don't expect I'll acknowledge your presence." I turned around and continued to walk, hoping he would give up and go away. Unluckily for me, he called my bluff and followed.

I noticed my sleeve patched up, probably from glasses-guy. I involuntarily smiled.

Though I have yet to figure out if he's good or bad, maybe it won't hurt to have him around.

I felt someone slap me, breaking me from my reverie. I glared at the guard, infuriated he looked away as if he didn't do anything.

What was that all about? I thought. I stole a glance at the king and tried to suppress a groan. I know I shouldn't be thinking this, but I'd rather die a fast death than listen to him yacking about his "vision".

I looked at the crowd, feeling disgust at their faces. They were all staring at him in admiration; as if he was the savior of the world. But I can't blame them. This is probably the first time they found someone to look up to; it's too bad they're looking up to a complete nutcase.

I was lucky to find someone worthy to call a hero. He saved me from the dark hole dubbed my life. He showed me the wonders of living. And most importantly, he gave me a sole reason to exist, though that reason was short-lived.

Fall. My favorite time of the year. All the hard work I've put into my own, small garden pays off as I harvest the fruits of my labor. Not only that, but I always seem to have the best luck during this season.

I stood up straight, grunting as I stretched out my back after spending an hour or so tending my garden. Taking advantage of this small break, I heaved in fresh, crisp air, looking at the colorful trees, the wispy clouds, and the bright, morning sun.

Slightly shivering as the cold wind picked up, I turned to my companion.

"You done yet Roddy?" I looked at the pile he has harvested so far, unimpressed at his work. He pulled out all the unripened vegetables, the dead weeds all scattered in random places. Even his rose bush, which he pleaded me to grow, was poorly cared for, the leaves showing signs of dehydration. My disappointment was probably evident in my face as he pulled out an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not used to doing this work. I'd rather compose or play my instruments."

"Then don't help! Just stay to the side and hand me tools," I growled, though I would never dare tell him I was laughing inside.

He hung his head, dejected, as he followed my orders. I sighed, glancing at the work left plus fixing the mess he created.

I turned to him, "If it weren't for me, your precious rose bushes would die. You are so paying for my next meal," I stated before starting my back-breaking work. But it was worth it; I didn't have to feel like dirt and I can eat without wasting money. My garden was one of the few things that keep me going in this life; it made me feel important, as if me vanishing will actually effect someone, or in this case, something. Without me, my plants who depend on me will die; it is them that helps care for myself.

I finished my task fairly quickly and efficiently, something that none of the citizens of this city could, or would do, I'll tell you that. Wiping my brow, I stood proudly over the garden, something I own.

Technically, it was Roddy who bought the small piece of land for me. I had used it for many years, but it was on someone else's property, a fact that always prevented me from cultivating it more. I always had to conceal the fact I was growing something, only planting the tiniest of foods as to not raise suspicion.

But that was in the past. It was finally mine and I can proudly say I own this garden and everything growing are the results from my hard work.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, signaling me it was time to go. I peeked at my garden once more before walking towards town.

We reached our usual café, Le beau temps, and sat at our regular seat. Not much has changed since Roddy and I met here. The name changed recently (though I never bothered to pay attention to its original name), but the hustle and bustle same from the year before.

Roddy ordered the special, as usual, and was now smiling at me. "What? Is there dirt on me?"

He chuckled, as if he thought of a funny joke. "What the hell are you laughing 'bout?" He was starting to get on my nerves again. You would think he would avoid that, seeing as I almost smashed his head in with a thrown-away frying pan.

He grinned, "You've become more happier lately; less cynical and more optimistic," he noted happily as the waitress placed our food in front of us, scowling at me.

I scowled back before preoccupying myself with my food. He's right though. The beginning of this year, I would have never admitted myself loving a season. Hell, I wouldn't even let a complete stranger at the time follow me around like a lost puppy! But here I am, enjoying fall, eating soup familiarly in front of someone I met a couple of months ago.

I honestly don't know how to take in this information. In some ways it was good, a sign that I'm adjusting life for the better. But it scared me; treading a path unfamiliar to me, one with so many uncertainties. Besides, who says the way I'm acting is good? There was nothing that clearly defines what is good or bad, so I'm left here in the dark, unable to choose or understand where to go.

I didn't want to focus on this issue at the moment, and forced a change of topic. "Hey Roddy? Why'd you become a doctor even though you'd rather play your piano?" It was awkward, but I was determined to change the course of the conversation.

He followed the new flow, no comments on the change of subject. "I honestly have no idea why I chose this career. When I "woke up", I was already a doctor, a line of patients waiting to be treated by me. Though I immediately went to help them with no experience, my hands and words seemed to work on their own, performing procedures as if I've done it millions of times." He shrugged, going back to his lunch.

I remembered he told me about his past, an act to get me to trust him. He told me he opened his eyes one day, not remembering anything. Everyone knew him, but he didn't know himself. He didn't know who he was, what was his background; nothing. But his brain apparently stored some part of his former life, one that consisted of music, medicine, and apparently a girl.

He has vague memories of her, similar to my situation with my father. From time to time, he gets flashes of his past memories, whenever a sight, smell, or conversation becomes familiar to his life before.

It was when he confessed, to tell me the reason why he's hanging around me. He tells me I'm similar to her in appearance, that we both have light brown hair and the same emerald eyes. After zoning out once, he came back to reality, placing a pink flower in my hair, claiming it to be Lake Balaton. Our personality's the same too. Apparently, we have the same foul mouth and frightening temper. I laughed at the mental image when he told me she constantly held a frying pan by her side, ready to use it as a weapon.

I guess he was expecting me to flip out, that I would swear to kill him for using me. But I shrugged it off, asking when we could eat. I haven't told him yet, but I'm using him the same way. He reminds me of my father, and having him around feels like I have an actual parent who cares for me.

The difference between the two of us are significant; I'm gathering full memories of my father and I, while he is only remembering her, not yet gaining some sense of who he was before.

I finished my bowl of soup, the metal spoon clanking as it hit the empty container. I looked up to see he had finished too, though he seemed busy looking at his surroundings.

Curious, I looked around too. It seemed busier than usual, and people kept getting out of their seats, running out of the café. I stopped a lady who was trying to run to the door. " Hey, what's going on?"

She jerked her arm out my grasp, spitting on my face before continuing on her quest. I wiped away her saliva with the back of my hand, regretting asking that bitch.

Roddy handed me a napkin before questioning a nearby man. They talked animatedly as I sterilized my face. Life is still so unfair.

He gestured for me to quickly follow him before he ran out of the café, like the rest. I ran after him, stealing a piece of bread left on a table on the way. Hey, it's their fault for leaving it there. Might as well take it for the road.

It took me a while to find him through the sea of people. I practically had to push, shove, and claw my way out of the mass of citizens. Gasping, I screamed, "Roddy! Where the fuck are you!"

Someone tapped my shoulder, and out of fright (though I'll never admit it), I almost punched the daylights of the person. I sighed of relief when I saw it was just Roddy.

"God! Why the hell is everyone crowded into one spot? Is someone going to show another chest filled with novelty wigs or something?" I asked, my voice struggling to overpower the loud noise.

He shook his head, took my hand, and forcefully pushed the crowd to make way for the both of us. We gasped for air when we reached the front, surprised at what we saw.

A grandiose parade was taking place; one I've heard from snot-nosed girls flaunting their wealth in front of me. I stared in a mixture of awe and disgust, as a carriage pulled a man through the streets of the town.

Who the hell does he think he is? With all those materials, someone could buy a whole kingdom, or even supply an unlimited amount of food to everyone! My anger boiled once again, fuming at the guy's possessions.

Even though I've never had, much less touched, any of the materials used for his carriage, I know they're all real and all really expensive. The leather used to restrain the poor horses were encrusted with many multicolored jewels, the wordings spelled out in gold paint. The carriage itself was painted extravagant colors, all ostentatious and bright; the wood cut out from a cherry tree.

But what made me angry the most was the guy being transported. His wavy-blond locks bounced, all shiny without a speck of dirt. He was adorned with the most gleaming of jewels on his fingers, a long, heavy cape, and a crown on his head. His purple eyes gleamed at the attention he was receiving and he waved at the people, unaware of his own foolishness.

I turned to Roddy ready to rant on the guy's stupidity. All intention of that drained away when I found him on the floor, screaming like a banshee. I shook him, for the first time worried of someone other than myself. "Roddy? Roddy? Are you okay? Say something Roddy!"

He just continued screaming, his eyes closed and his hands pressed against his ears. I looked around, hoping someone would come and help him. But the people around us turned their heads away, excitedly talking about the procession.

Bastards. I thought venomously while I tried my best to goad Roddy to standing. It took a while but I managed to get him to walk, though he continued to shut his eyes, murmuring something to himself in a strange language.

"Let's get you home Roddy," I muttered, leading him through the streets to his house. The moment he touched his bed, he was out, breathing irregularly.

I've watched him take care of his patients to know the basic steps. I checked his temperature, to my surprise discovering he has a fever. It took some hours, but it cooled down. I sat in the closest chair and fell asleep, hoping he would be alive the next time I would open my eyes.

"W-Water, please."

I woke up to the weak, raspy request, my crusty eyes opening against it's will. I looked around for a glass of water, almost dropping the glass before it reached Roddy. He gulped it down in one swig, coughing as the water replenished the lack of moisture in his throat.

"Are you okay? You were pretty out of it yesterday," I asked tentatively.

He moaned at the his head's throbbing pain before answering. "I'm not sure. I saw that guy and memories began to flood into my brain, only to be blocked by who-knows-what. It gave me a migraine."

A huge migraine it must have been. You were screaming like you were being burned to death. I thought, not daring to speak them out loud.

He must have seen my concerned expression. He smiled weakly at me, trying to assure to me he was alright. "Thank you for taking care of me. That was kind of you."

He began to quiver though, his body gradually began to shake violently. He frowned, tears falling down. "I-I don't know what's h-happening to me! J-Just now, I a-almost remembered something, w-when something b-blocked it."

I didn't know what to do. This was the first time this kind of situation has happened in front of me. I just stood there, wide-eyed and silent, useless.

Roddy continued talking, eyes wild, his hands once again pressing against his ears. "I-I want to know! I w-want to know e-everything about m-my past! B-But I d-don't at the same t-time! W-What if I was a terrible c-criminal, a m-murderer? W-What if I was a l-loner, an o-outcast to society? T-There's so many uncertainties that I'm not s-sure I w-want to know anymore!"

He began to murmur to himself in that strange language, his sobs growing louder and louder.

I inched closer to him, pulling him to a hug to calm him down. But he growled at me, his eyes murderous. "Don't touch me," he ordered, as if he would kill me if I refused.

I was afraid. I felt my knees buckle, my hand clammy. I turned around and ran, putting as much distance between us as possible. I only stopped once I reached the outskirts of the town, panting, gasping for air. It was that time I chose to curl up in my little ball and cry, the first time since I've been abandoned.

That was the last time he saw me through sane eyes.

The next time I saw him, he was playing a grand piano in the middle of the plaza. How the piano got there, I had no idea, but that was the last thing on my mind.

Roddy, the doctor that saved me that day from starvation, the guy that gave me more hope in life, the one who promised to give me a name, was furiously pounding on many chords, unaffected by the growing crowds. He soon finished the piece, panting, his arms red, a blue diamond on his hand glowing brightly. Instead of bowing politely to the crowd, as he normally would, he began to play again.

He struck a note, shivering at the ominous sound it created. He pressed another, delighted at the pure note. He positioned his hands over the first cord, and began to play.

His hands seemed to float across the keys, his fingers became like dances, leaping and jumping as if he was unbidden. Every note, every chord, every measure, he poured his emotions, his soul into it, and his feeling resonated inside each citizen who lived in the city.

His playing brought an overpowering emotion; insanity. The emotion put into the song sang to me, to my hurt and broken self. I shivered as my madness began to consume me, piece by piece, eating me away.

But there was fear; fear for the man Roddy has become. The crazed eyes, the disheveled look; it didn't match Roddy at all and it scares me. That was the one thing that kept me from allowing my insanity to swallow me up. Seeing the current state of the doctor shocked me back to reality. I didn't want to become like that, and I was damn sure he doesn't want to be like this either. So I had to resist his tempting song so I can save him from whatever brought him into this trance.

I slinked away, taking one more glance at him. He seemed to be in his own little, mad world where only he and his piano existed. His eyes flew across the page in lightening speed, reading every note accurately. Horrified, I ran away, determined to bring back my friend to reality.

~ Narrator P.O.V ~

The sun was setting, it's bright lights slowly dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly fading from red, blue, and purple, to a pure black. The citizens walked back to their homes, all tired and ready for bed. Roderich was the exception. He has been playing continuously for many days, and he intended to continue. A breeze picked up, making his hairs stand on the back of his neck, but he ignored the growing feeling of paranoia and instead, poured it into the piece.

A dark shadow loomed behind him, shaking. His eyes watered and his tears began to fall. He grabbed something from the depths of his tailcoat and his hands trembled as he brought the gun up. He stood there for a moment, his insanity keeping the gun placed on the back of the pianist's head. His tears streamed out, his consciousness screaming to stop this outrageous act. His mentality was far too cracked to listen, to be saved. The moment Roderich struck down on the harsh cord, the trigger was pressed, and a moment later, the pianist lopped forward, random notes being pressed by his dead-weight body.

The blood from the wound spluttered, splattering over the murderer and the piano. His hands slowly falling limply to his sides, the blue diamond on his hand, gone.

The killer's lips quivered as he realized the sin he had committed. A slight chuckle escaped his lips until it escalated to a high pitched scream. He dropped the gun he had been tightly gripping and ran away from the location, his blood stained top hat gently falling of the pool of blood, now forming on the ground, forgotten.

~ Citizen's P.O.V~

I was determined to beat some sense into Roddy. It's been a week since I found him madly playing on his piano, and I've been formulating a plan to get him back.

Nonstop, he's been at the piano, playing the same song over and over; for what reason I have no knowledge about. I ran towards the plaza as the sun was setting, heart pounding and my mind racing. It soon grew dark, my eyes trying to adjust to the change of light when I accidentally collided with someone.

Our eyes locked and something inside me told me to get the hell away from him. I quickly obliged. I had no time to be messing around with some stranger. Getting to Roddy was more important.

When I reached the plaza, I vomited, wishing I never thought to come back to the place.

Roddy was dead, his blood forming a dark-red pool around him. His blood was splattered everywhere, a gaping hole in his back.

"R-Roderich?" I quietly whispered, like a child realizing imaginary friends are make believe. When he didn't answer, I became hysterical, shaking him violently, screaming, "Roddy! You better wake up now or else I'll give you hell to deal with! Wake the fuck up! Wake up you bastard! Roddy!"

My voice choked as I began to sob. I fell to my knees, uncaring how I was being covered in his blood. "You promised! You promised me you'll stay by me. You promised me you'll give me a name. Why the hell did you break your promise, shattering the only thing I believed in! Why?"

"D-don't leave me alone," I whimpered, crying, uncaring how everyone would see me. I stayed by his side until morning, bawling my eyes out like a little child. Once morning came, I fled the scene, knowing I wouldn't be able to survive if I was found beside his dead body.

That's the last time I'll cry. I promised myself. My heart and soul hardened, never to melt again. It seems life truly is cruel. It took away my hope, gave it back for a short period of time, before ripping it away. It's either life, karma, or people who is to blame. But either way, it does not change this one simple, heart- wrenching fact.

You will always end up alone, left to fend for yourself. There is no hope to change this fact, only acceptance.

True to my word, that was the last time I've cried. Even when remembering the past year, or even in the face of death, I won't cry. I refuse to show any kind of vulnerability to anyone or anything.

Instead, I plastered on a grin, my chin held high as I stared at the sky. I'll still continue to be the strong rebel, the one Roddy once told me he wished he could be.

The sun was shining brightly, not a cloud in sight. Birds chirped, resting in their nests perched high up in the newly-bloomed trees. Bees buzzed around my ears and a rose petal floated down onto my nose. I stared at it, sure that I looked like a cross-eyed woman.

Where the hell did this come from? There are no rose bushes nearby. Plus, it came from above, a place I'm sure a rose bush -much less any plant- would grow.

I looked up once again, surprised at what I saw. There was Roddy standing next to a man and a woman. The woman looked oddly similar to me, her smile perfectly imitating mine. The man looked like my father from my memories, with an overall messy appearance, but a warm ambiance around him. Roddy looked the same as the day I met him, neat and pristine.

All three of them looked as if they were ghosts. They stretched out their hands towards me, coaxing me to reach for it. Roddy's voice filled my head, making me wonder if I've finally gone insane.

Dear, it's time for you to meet up with us. I'm sorry for leaving, but I shall fulfill part of my promise while your still alive. Your name is Elizabeth, my dear. So Elizabeth, come meet us soon.

I smiled, ready to follow him wherever he wanted me to go. "So, Elizabeth's my name? It's nice! Elizabeth!" That was the last thing I said in this life, before departing to the next world.

Author Notes:

I really did enjoy writing this. Yes, this is an OC. I loved creating her. It was so fun! It might be hard to think this, considering she's so cynical and everything, but it was fun. Especially since all those cynical thoughts she has is exactly what I have. I really did place my ideas in her. But of course, I love humankind, with it's flaws. I'm a pessimistic and an optimistic. I'm a living contradiction, LIKE A STARBURST!

Anyway, I hope you didn't mind that I wrote it as another perspective. But I just can't write Austria. Or England. Or any of the elegant, refined characters. It's just hard for me. :P Again, hope you like it! :D