Alice's POV
Tears began to trickle down my face as I walked away from one station to the next. The brand on my upper arm still throbbed menacingly.
I was handed my clothing – pillowcase – to put on. After slowly taking off my other clothes, self-consciously handing them to the woman, and slipping the filthy garment over my head, I watched as she threw my other clothes into the trash; I was positive I'd be wearing this pillowcase either till I was rescued or until the day I died.
I was ushered over to the next station where a woman stood with a list in her hand. As soon as I approached, she lifted a strand of my hair carelessly and then marked something down on her paper.
"Follow me." She sighed.
She led me to a cell labeled 317. Inside I saw a bunch of girls almost identical to me – short blackish hair, same ugly clothing, and same brand punctured into our skin. The only difference was that these girls looked wretched, starved. Just like Nathalie had said: I would eventually lose my "precious glow" too.
As the woman opened the cell gate, all the eyes shot over to me. There had to be a least twenty girls in this one compacted space. The all stared at me with regret in there eyes – there was even a certain wildness and rage bottled up in their pupils. I was too frightened to take a step further, so the woman had to shove me in.
My eyes scanned the room, searching for the one and only familiar face I knew. As if to make it easier for me, Nathalie raised her hand without even politely throwing me a glance. I went over to the corner and sat beside her.
"That was horrifying." I mumbled. I hardly recognized my own irresolute voice.
"Branding?" Nathalie shrugged off my statement. "Well, you won't have to go through it again. That is, unless, you are here long enough where it fades and must be redone."
"Ugh." I frowned. "I never want to go through that ever again. This place is horrible …. Nothing like home."
"Pfft." Nathalie's eyes shifted from the ground to mine and then back to the floor again.
I looked at her face, watching her body move up and down subtly as she breathed lightly. Trying to get her to lighten up, I grinned widely. "Where are you from?"
"Georgia." She responded, her face momentarily falling.
"Do you miss it there?" I wondered.
"Very much." She almost whispered; I had to strain in order to hear her.
"Have you got any family there?" I crossed my legs, lifting my hand to naturally brush it through my hair – until I recalled there wasn't enough hair to brush through.
"I used to."
The next question was somewhat instinctive. "What happened to them?"
Her eyes fleeted to mine, piercing into my soul. "Why are you in here?"
I mumbled. "You didn't answer my question."
"Answer mine." She admonished.
"Alright." I gulped. "I have visions. I can see the future … honestly, I can."
She looked like she wanted to laugh hysterically but she didn't have the energy or breath to do so. "Well, that's interesting."
"But you still didn't answer me." I protested. "What happened to your family?"
"I'm getting to that." She exhaled. "I'm in here for a reason too. Can you guess what it is?"
I hadn't a clue. "No."
"Well, long story short." She looked away from me. "I committed a homicide – three actually."
"To who?" I wondered.
"You're not very smart, are you?" she gave an exasperated attempt at what sounded like a giggle. "My family is dead … because I killed them."
"Why would you do that?" I'd never heard of such a crazy thing.
"You are no use." She blinked for a very long time. "I don't feeling like giving out my motive."
I crawled over beside her and leaned against the wall, surprisingly not afraid of her, even after she'd confessed to three homicides. Trying to mimic her, I stretched out my legs like Nathalie, but I still came a foot short; I'd always been extremely petite.
"Well." I began. "I am from Biloxi, Mississippi. Not far from here, I suppose – about an hour or two by car. I have a sister named Cynthia and a … loving mother … who sent me here for my own good."
"She doesn't seem very supportive." Nathalie glimpsed over at me.
"Oh, she's very supportive." I disagreed. "But she did was she thought was best for me and my family."
Nathalie said nothing. I supposed she wasn't the talkative type.
Therefore, I decided to fill in silence for her. "My father died when I was four. He worked out on the railroad, connecting the cars by hand. And one day, he was connecting the hitch, and another railcar came booming in too fast and it crushed him. I miss him of course, but I'm stronger than I look, so it was nothing I couldn't overcome."
"Ha." Nathalie laughed blankly.
"Just to cover all the other subjects." I explained myself. "I've never had many friends – I suppose it was because I just love being alone most of the time. I guess you're my friend now."
"Doubt it." Nathalie stared at the opposite wall pointlessly.
"You don't think we should be friends?" I questioned.
"I've never had a friend before." She admitted.
"Well, then I guess this is a first for the both of us." I held out my hand. "To our new friendship."
"Uh." She hesitantly lifted her hand and shook mine. "Sure."
"Oh my gosh!" a girl exclaimed. Nathalie and I both looked up at the commotion.
Two girls were crowding the barred window, excitedly pointing and waving out of it. Several girls got up from their sitting positions to run to the window as well. I obviously had no idea what was going on, so I turned to Nathalie. She didn't react so, in response, neither did I.
But I had to ask. "What are they so thrilled about?"
"He's probably walking outside the window." Nathalie answered callously.
"Who?" I wondered.
"It's the blonde boy." A girl quickly replied for me. I didn't know which one had said it until they sat down beside me.
She looked equally similar to every girl in the room except for her intense blue eyes.
"Nobody knows his name, though." She continued. "Isn't that mysterious?"
Nathalie interceded. "Mainly that's because none of you have ever actually spoken to him."
"I will." The girl beside me vowed. "One day he'll realize that he loves me. He'll come up this desolate tower and rescue me from this prison."
"Don't be so buoyant." Nathalie opposed.
"Oh, don't act like you hadn't loved him for at least five minutes." The girl stood. "It's impossible not to."
I looked over at Nathalie. "He must be very attractive if all these girls are drooling over him."
"He is somewhat appealing." Nathalie agreed without a single emotion on her face.
"Hey, maybe he'll talk to me." I rose up off the floor and began to step towards the window.
A different girl put her hands on her hips. "What makes you think he'll talk to you if he hasn't spoken to any of us?"
I disregarded her haughty tone. "Because I'm a new face that he's never seen before."
Many girls backed away, agreeing with me. However, some refused to move. I passed them aimlessly, ignoring them completely. Finally reaching the window, I wrapped my fingers around the ledge, leaned forward, and looked down towards the ground.
And there he was.
He truly was gorgeous – assumingly nineteen or twenty years old. He nonchalantly leaned against a nearby tree, his eyes staring up at all the windows of the asylum. I wanted to process every little detail about him, so I could lock him up in my brain and remember him forever. His perfect facial features, his flawless pale muscled body, and his golden hair made me melt – I had mentioned before that I was an utter sucker for blondes, hadn't I? I wanted to try to see his eyes but he was too far down for me to confirm the actual color.
For an instant, our eyes met, though, and almost instantaneously, his face brightened.
He shrugged off the tree, sauntered faultlessly over towards the building, and looked straight up at the window, watching me intently.
"Hello!" I waved.
A girl behind me swatted me on the back. "Don't talk to him!" I paid no attention to her.
"Hey!" He responded back.
At the sound of his voice a bunch of girls gasped, shocked that he responded. I heard a bunch of whispers behind me but discarded them directly after I heard them.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"James!" He yelled up at me.
I turned to look back at the girls and saw that they were on the verge of passing out.
"And who are you?" His voice brought me to look back down at him.
"I'm Mar- …" I was about to say Mary Alice, but I recalled the man at the desk. I knew that I did not have to follow that rule in this given situation, but as I thought it over, I realized that Alice was a much prettier name than just Mary Alice was. for that reason, I rephrased, "I'm Alice!"
He turned away from me for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes returned to me quickly. "That's the prettiest name I've ever heard!"
"Why, thank you!" I suddenly felt overwhelmed.
"And I bet you have a pretty face to match." His succulent voice wafted up to me.
"Can't you see me from down there?" I wondered stupidly.
"Not well enough." He replied. "You look delectable from a distance, which only makes me wonder how mouthwatering you are up close."
I looked down at my feet embarrassedly for a brief moment but then quickly snapped my eyes back down to him. "Why don't you come rescue me then?"
At that instant, one of the girls pulled me away from the window. It was Nathalie. "Are you insane? You don't even know that guy." Despite her urgency, her face was still void and morose.
"Yes I do." I objected.
"You know his name is James." She countered. "What else do you know?"
"That he thinks I'm pretty."
"That's doesn't matter, for all you know he could be a murderer." Nathalie sighed.
"He doesn't look like a murderer." I frowned, tempted to just jump out the window now – he looked strong enough to catch me. The only thing in the way was the stupid iron bars blocking my exit.
"Do I look like murderer?" she challenged.
I was about to respond when James's voice broke my concentration. "Are you still there, Alice?"
I rushed back to the window. "Yes!" I was probably blushing excessively right now.
"Well, I must be going but I promise that I'll return." He guaranteed.
"You promise?" I giggled.
"Believe me when I say," He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing can keep me away."
*************
Soon enough, it got to late for me to keep my eyes open.
As I slowly drifted into my dreamscape, I processed everything that had happened to me that day – how much my life had so dramatically altered. I for one had a new lifestyle, a new home, a new family, a new wardrobe, a new friend, and an extremely stunning new admirer.
No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get the image of James out of my head. I had considered the thought "What if James really did come up and get me?" once or twice since he'd left, but the idea was just too surreal to come true. And as much as I tried to complain, I knew Nathalie was correct: I knew absolutely nothing about James, other than his name.
However, I was never the type of person to give up on a fantasy, so for all I knew, James could show up at cell 317's door at this very moment. He'd be there to swoop me off my feet, to take me away where we could live happily ever after.
Maybe my desire of life after the asylum could be real …?
But, out of all this unanswered questions, I did know one thing. The sooner I was released from Harriet Lankan, the better. I wanted out of this dump, no matter what it took and no matter who would save me. I couldn't help but wonder what my mother and sister were doing right now. Most likely sleeping, for I had no clue what the late hour was – but without doubt it had to be close to midnight.
All the other girls, already well adjusted to sleeping on the cold concrete floor, fell asleep instantly – even Nathalie. So I was left to sit awake, watching as an occasional male guard would make his rounds; he'd pass cell 317 and then not pass it again for another two minutes. His repetativity made me sleepy – like counting sheep.
Eventually, I drifted into a restless sleep, full of nightmares and horrifying thoughts. However, right before my night became peaceful, I had a vision.
"Just come with me." I couldn't recoganize the voice or the face it belonged to.
An elderly man pulled me under the long staircase I had come up in.
"Why did you take me away?" my worried voice frantically said.
"You're in danger." The man warned. "I need to save you."
"You don't understand!" I shouted.
He clapped his hand over my mouth. "Shh. Stay quiet!"
"Take me back! I'm not leaving this asylum … " the vision shorted out for a moment, so I didn't get the last bit of the sentence, but I got the key part of it. Why in the world did I not want to leave this horrible place?
"You must." The old man frowned. "Please forgive me for ruining your life."
"What are you t-talking about …?" My voice wavered until I was limp in the old man's arms.
And the vision ended unfinished – a cliffhanger – as everyone of my visions always did. As valuable as seeing the future can be, I hated the problem-solving portion of it all.
I especially didn't want to do any problem-solving as I drifted into the most perfect dream I'd ever had. It was me and James … and there was nothing more to it.