Chapter 22 - Delusions
"Is she happy?" He asked, posing the question as though it were not one at all. As if knowing the answer, but afraid to confirm it.
"I don't know," she lied. "I don't look for her anymore. You asked me not to."
"But you still see her," he insisted, as though there was nothing out of her reach.
"Sometimes." More often when you're near.
"Perhaps we should spend more time together."
She did not like the eager look in his eyes. They turned hungry and dark at the mere mention of her name, consumed with the idea of seeing her face. He could sort through the images of her mind, poking and prodding until he found what he wanted, taking whether she liked it or not.
"I'd prefer we did not." I hate you for taking her away.
He turned from her with a casual shrug of his shoulders, but a look on his face that told her the conversation was only over for now. It was only after he was far away, focused on the hunt that she allowed herself to relieve the beautiful vision that had suddenly come into her mind. Bella Swan trying on a wedding dress. Laughing, toasting champagne, eagerly awaiting the day she would become Mrs. Jacob Black. That was the part of the vision he did not see... or maybe did not want to. In Edwards eyes, Isabella Swan would always belong to him.
Alice Cullen paced in agitation around the immense bedroom of their mountainside home. Her visions had been faltering of late. As hard as she tried to see, Bella faded in and out of them as if a light were dimming inside of her brain. For years she had been watching her. Far longer than the girl suspected.
The memories of the cell where she had been placed as a child pushed in the far reaches of her mind. Dusty cobwebs of light and dark, needles pricking, electricity pushing violently through her small body. Little Alice Brandon was far from insane until her creators made her that way.
As a child, her parents were afraid of her. The gift of second sight passed down through her grandmother, skipping over the woman who gave her life. It was that jealousy and spite which drove Miriam Brandon to extremes.
It perplexed Miram that the gift which her own parentage was revered for by so many of their neighbors, had passed over her. In time she came to resent it, and so in her own foray of motherhood, her daughter too. Searching for something to grasp onto, Miriam turned to the church. A sanctuary of the righteous, where souls such as her mother were considered unclean and unwelcome except to renounce the demon spirits inhabiting them. Married to a backwoods snake preacher, religion became her life, turning her into a zealot bent on saving the masses and traveling the weary road of tent revivals, paved in ultimate faith with their two children children in tow.
This was the childhood Alice was forced to live. A life of rigid consternation, corporeal punishment masquerading as atonement for sin and strict adherence to what was deemed proper by ill-conceived ideas of love and parenting. The gift of second sight was thrusted upon her by fate, leaving behind scars made from belt buckles and bruises by her mothers hand.
Spurred on by her husband, Miriam believed their daughter was possessed by satan himself. When she met and married Abraham Brandon, she made no secret of the visions her own mother claimed to have knowledge of. Such things were of Lucifer; soothsayers and witches had no place in this world or the next. Miriam walked the path of righteousness, forever sealing the devil from crossing her door. Though this vigilance she would guard her own sanctity, making her children walk the straight and narrow of light, leaning heavily upon her husband for guidance.
The first time Alice's eyes glazed over during a childhood teaparty, Miriam knew. The devil had taken hold in her daughter. They confined her to a room, keeping her away from her twin sister, forcing her seven-year-old body into a fast for many days and nights. Lashed to the bed by sturdy rope bindings soaked in holy water to both secure the demons and ensure her safety, she was forced to watch as Abraham brought forth the snakes from their wicker baskets. With great fervor, he danced around the room like a whirling dervish all the while chanting demands to banish the evil from their home.
Get thee behind me, Satan! Scripture was beaten into her, lest she forget it.
After three days, young Alice slipped into unconsciousness, passed out in a pool of her own urine, succombing to cold prison of her own nightmares. It was the first time that her small mind began to break.
History, much like dreams, would often repeat itself. Several times over the next few years, she would be confined to the bed again, father praying for her soul, while her twin sister cried on the other side of the locked door. Beth often shielded her from the ever watchful eye of Miriam, but was not always there when the glazed, glossy look would overtake her eyes. It was Beth who gently dabbed antiseptic over the places where the lash of the belt had parted her delicate, porcelain flesh. It was she who dressed Alice in her best garments when the latter had none, not deemed worthy by their parents to possess such frivolity. It was only Beth who brushed and braided her abundant hair, ignoring Alice's gaunt appearance. For beneath it all, Beth believed her twin sister was a beautiful flower hidden under the ugly black and blue marks that littered her emaciated little body.
The cruelty of their father no longer extended to just Alice alone. A horrible vision assaulted her one day. Her own mother would be murdered in cold blood by a faceless man whose hands bore the stain of death. It was the only time Miriam loved her daughters gift... almost as much as she loathed it and her. Abraham raged, locking Alice away once again in an attempt to exorcise the many wicked demons he thought were fighting to possess her soul.
Months passed by and no attempt on Miriam's life was made. One bright afternoon Alice was gathering flowers for her sister in the vast field beyond their meager home. When she came inside, the scream which emitted from her chest would forever haunt the dreams of Abraham Brandon. It was Alice who found the blood on his hands, the knife he had used to slash Miriam's throat still clutched between his gnarled, bony fingers.
Alice would not speak for many years after that day. The murder of her mother left her alive, but trapped in a brutal nightmare of her parents making. A mere shell of the bright eyed girl with long, curly hair sat by a window, day after day, night after night, leaving others to wonder if she was unwilling or unable to speak.
It was Beth who cried and pleaded with their father the day that Alice Brandon, aged twelve, was placed under the care of a cheap workhouse masquerading as a health asylum. It was Beth whom Alice would remember and miss the most, even in the darkest hours.
As time went on, what little grip on reality Alice once had fell by the wayside. It was Beth who had kept her sane and now she was gone. Cruelly ripped from a life she was never allowed to really live.
Beth was the only one to ever show her kindness.
Over time there was another, but his generosity was only marked by interest, bizarre curiosity about her dreams and foresight of events. He'd cajole and beg, offering food and simple luxuries such as warm baths if only she would look into his future, making her his pet and personal guinea pig for experiments fit to grace the covers of prestigious medical journals.
Little did he know that there was another. One who watched. A creature of the night whose appetite easily fed by the sick and dying.
Alice peaked his curiosity. A morbid type of fascination, transference of gifts by blood. James became consumed with her abilities, hell bent on taking away what little life she had left. After all she was a human, nothing to him, certainly unimportant to the masses of Chicago that roamed the streets daily decidedly unaware of the atrocities that took place under their noses.
It was in the year of her eighteenth human life that visitors came. One somewhat reluctant, like a puppy following his master. The other appeared almost angelic, the blond hair and golden eyes that painted his features shone like an everlasting halo. Neither one gave their names, only identifying themselves as doctors, father and son.
When Alice saw the young man, a vision like none other assaulted her. Fast and furious the images crossed her mind like pages in a book blown by the wind. The young man, ageless years from now, a girl, with long, dark curls and a cupids face. Skin pale, creamy white and lips as pinker than the dawn. Kindness, acceptance and love lived in the very heart of her soul.
"Beth...," the name trilled past Alice's lips like a beautiful song.
Alice saw herself with her sister, repaying the kindness she'd once shown her ten-fold. Dressed in no more than rags, Beth would be lavished in fine garments. Alice toyed with her curls, painted her pretty face and the two would play dress up like little girls.
Further, she saw visions of family. A family bound by love and honor instead of jealousy, hate and deceit. A mother that loved them, a father who protected them, brother and sisters who lived and laughed with each other.
Love... Alice Brandon saw love. Love in the one named Edwards eyes. Ultimate adoration the likes of which no man had ever possessed. Beth kissing him sweetly, whispering quietly in a still white house until he smiled gently in reply.
Then quite suddenly, the images shifted. The home that echoed of family and loyalty was empty and alone. Beth stood on the porch, eyes shining with unshed tears, abandoned, afraid and helpless. Another boy appeared whose features were unlike any Alice had ever seen before. Dark of skin, heavily muscled with long raven hair that fell past his shoulders. He held out his hand to Beth, as if begging her to come away with him.
Alice watched as her sister took it while turning her head and looking one last time at the house with longing. "Goodbye, Alli..."
Tears rushed over Alice Brandon's face, sobs tearing from her chest like the worst sort of agony. It felt like the knife which had slashed her mother's throat was now being plunged into her heart. Quickly she spilled out a warning, begging on bended knee to both of the men who sat opposite her to save Beth from this nightmare. To save her from herself.
It was on that day, the last shred of Alice Brandon's sanity broke. A fact that would be amplified in the coming months when the good doctor whose name was made famous by medical journals left her alone and unguarded. Another man would come one day soon, taking away all that she never had, giving her all that she never should, in order to save her from a hunter.
Alice Brandon became a vampire. Another soul lost to the world of the immortal damned.
Host of extravagant parties, patron saint of couture, forever young and beautiful. One more angelic face floating across the earth with ballerina-like grace. An everlasting memorial to all she never was and doomed to always be. The heavy price of eternal life, bathed in the blood of innocents.
Madness in life, so follows in death.
The conversation with Edward had unnerved her more than she cared to admit. One: It proved that Alice was fallible. Two: It reminded her of what was lost the day they'd left Washington at his behest.
In that minute, she hated Edward. Bella, her would be sister, the mirror image of Beth, ripped cruelly away for a second time. Alice wanted to rush to her side, preserve her in death as she was in life regardless of the consequences..
Perhaps her father was right all along.
Just maybe, she really was the devil in disguise.