The smell of pine shocks her senses into consciousness. Gwen's eyes begin to tear but she cannot open them, she can't feel them. Her neck feels like she's been through a karate lesson but it is good news. At least she can feel. With her coarse fingertips, she feels a crate behind her, damp with the frost in the air. A cool wire restrains her hands from hugging herself. She cannot open her eyes and dares not to for she fears the reality.
There is a faint sound coming from nearby, as in feet away. It sounds like a song, far too merry for the frost.
"Hear it Alice. You do remember it right?" The rough voice was familiar.
Gwen held her breathe, holding her whimpers in and steadying her shivers. He stole her. Why would he steal you, Gwen Everest of Albany, certainly never even knew an Alice. There was Alice of Wonderland if anything, a fairytale. Who was this mad hatter?
"I remember you in the garden among the trees. Me and my swing, you and your wind. I've missed you Alice. I can't believe I've found you. There were many who looked like you, dared to beat you in your beauty and your mind. We can build our home again Alice and this time I'll take care of you better, I promise Alice."
He moved towards Gwen from behind. Coughing with each deep breath he took, he took her hands in his hand and with the other, untied the wire. She began to open her eyes noticing the yellow dimmer of the ice on the wall. The ice crept up the wall to the rot on the broken light fixture and down to the edge of the wall where red was stained permanently. Wincing silently with the sudden movement she felt warmth disappear through her hands and the cold slipping under her veins.
He drew in a sharp breath crying, "Oh Alice no. I did not want to hurt you Alice. No! Alice!" He traced the rough edges of where the wire tightly held her hands. "Does it hurt Alice?"
"I'm not Alice! Gwen! Gwen!" She quickly drew her hands in and caressed her wounds. The wire unveiled the source of the red trails and the reason for the damp crate. Shocked, she began whimpering and pulled herself into a tight ball.
"You've got the wrong person. I am not Alice," whispering her final words.
Thoughts raced in her head as she heard the rummaging of a drawer and the footsteps thundering down towards her. The pierce of pain stifled her scream and she unraveled and slumped her head to the wool on the floor beside her. She shut her eyes and grasped her last thoughts.
Coconut and cherry smells while the lady sings her endless tune. I had but a familiar face with beauty making me her fool. Screams escape with whispers instead and all that's left are thoughts. Bleeding hearts and timeless souls are the only things left true.