A/N: So, here is chapter 2 from Alice's diary in the Asylum and I hope it turned out to be good because I wrote it really really quickly and I didn't even edit it.

Also Alice is my favourite character from twilight.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

Entry two

Dear Diary,

I don't know how much time has passed. How long am I here? Months? Years? And did I use to keep a diary before I came here? I don't know.

It seems like I have started to forget things, but do I really want to remember and cling onto my old life or the events that led me here? All I know is that those memories hurt even more than the tortures and the sad reality of the Asylum.

He says that it doesn't matter if I forget, that maybe if I do, one day I will manage to be happy again, but was I ever trully happy?

Here is this despicable Asylum with the people clad in those white medical robes that are doctors.

They might seem kind at first, but they are not; the grins on their faces and their lustful expressions remind me of voltures. They say I am confused. They say they will help me get rid of my confusion but all they do is load me with so many injections that I can't even lift my arms afterwards and always keep me in the dark.

The only time they drag me out of my pitiablel and dirty cell is when they subject me to electroshocks. They hurt and send white waves of pain to my tied, shaking as if I have spasms body, but when I scream and beg them to stop they just make them even more painful.

There are these sudden, blinding and searing flashes of light and then darkness again. Always impregnable and unblinking darkness.

I lay to my dirty, hard pallet and I clutch my precious diary close to my heart, but sleep won't come. Pain and dread seem to always seep through the walls of the other cells, especially at night.

It's strange, but sleep has always been kind to me; it shrouds me in a protective soft embrace and it is relieving to be able to escape, even if it is just for a few hours.

The nightmares never visit me. Nightmare is my life while I am awake.

It is cold tonight. I wrap my tattered thin blanket around my small and frozen body, but I can't keep myself from shivering. The screams start from the cells surrounding mine like they do every night.

It takes a great deal of effort to prevent myself from screaming along with them. If I give in to the fear and the depression then it is certain that I will lose my self and all the sanity I have left.

I can't see the people who make those sounds, but I can imagine with dreadful vividness how their faces may look, disformed in an agonised grimace, no humanity left within the hollow sockets of their eyes.

I may have forgotten a lot of things but I still remember what my father had once told me; that bad people go to Hell and then they suffer for the rest of eternity. I have started to wonder if this is actually Hell.

Dear Diary, I am afraid. I don't know if I will manage to sleep tonight. I try to think of pretty things and cast the dread away. Playing in thepond near my house; sitting at the terrace with my mother and drinking lemon-scented tea as we watch the twilight paint the world red and orange; the feeling of the sun on my skin...

No, there's no use. I can't even remember the sun anymore.