Chapter 3: 1873
1873
7 September 1873
After years of slumber, she chooses to speak to us with a picture, a drawing of some sort of cat. Really, it's nothing like any cat I've ever seen.
"Even a drawing so bizarre couldn't foreshadow the imaginings to come." -29/3/74
9 September 1873
I admit to a certain amount of excitement over Alice's semi-awakening. I have to be careful, though. At this point, it's difficult to tell what this development - what I'm pleased to call her "progress" - signifies.
10 September 1873
While Alice napped following her afternoon sedation, Nurse D- took it upon to replace the rabbit's missing eye. Even after living so many years in an infirm population, it can still surprise me when a seemingly trivial act can trigger such a remarkable reaction.
Alice woke from her nap and began to sob hysterically.
"Tell me, child, what's wrong?" pleaded Nurse D-. "What is it, dear?"
In an instant of semi-awareness, Alice spoke a sort of poetry.
"Into the hole again, we hurried along our way into a once-glorious garden now seeped in dark decay"
She continued to cry, and it was only when Nurse D- plucked the newly stitched eye from the rabbit's face that Alice fell back into her customary state.
"With such behavior, maybe it was a mistake to stir these waters and awaken her." -29/3/74
I compare her response - and my reaction to it - to the person who daily tosses a pebble into a pool of still water. Day after day, the pebble plunges to the murky bottom, causing a few nearly imperceptible ripples. One day, however, the pebble miraculously strikes a fish. What are the odds other than incredible to ponder? And what are the effects - compared to the ripples. Nurse D-, to follow the analogy, struck a fish in the pond today.
I don't know whether to cheer at this response — any response — or grow alarmed over the intensity of her emotional outburst. At least we discovered one thing: she can speak.
11 September 1873
When she is so inclined, Alice can draw. This morning I was greeted by another of Alice's artistic phantasmagorias. What is it she's rendering? I can only think it's a depiction of her nightmare of Hell.
12 September 1873
Two demented youths hung themselves side by side in the ward last night. As a result, I couldn't devote any time to Alice or any other patients. There was some dissension from the townsfolk about not wanting these suicides to be buried within city limits. After some discussion, they relented. It was agreed to bury the boys separately in a clandestine fashion. One will be buried far behind Ramsbottom church, the other in Ribchester.
15 September 1873
It takes two to feed her, one to wedge open her mouth and the other to funnel food and medicine down her throat. Her jaw, it seems, is clenched in a death's grip.
1 October 1873
For the past fortnight, I have labored until dawn in the laboratory preparing a new potion. Her recent activity has reinvigorated my research. I discovered last night, quite by accident really, that the smallest infusion of prussic acid and strychnine brings about a curious reaction. At least it seems to work well on the rats.
Too much of either ingredient could prove quite lethal of course.
15 October 1873
Approaching Alice's room, I heard the muffled sounds of laughter. A pair of orderlies were cursing at her and threatening her with leather straps. It's easy to see that this pair was weaned from the same teat.
Alice didn't respond to their tomfoolery; and the orderlies were not impressed by my reprimand. Good help is so hard to find.
18 October 1873
The Superintendent paid a visit. The smell of his perfumed handshake is still in my nostrils. He doesn't visit often, but when he does he arrives unannounced and remains overlong. Typically, he flounces through the infirmary pretending to be interested in this case or that. This time, he requested to see Alice and asked for the leeches. When she refused to stir, the Superintendent stretched wide his mouth in a yawn of infinite boredom.
When I displayed some of her recent artwork, the Superintendent's attention was caught again as if someone jabbed his fatty palm with a hot poker.
"He was in a very agitated state when he departed." -7/4/74
24 October 1873
Nurse D- has been listening from outside the door. Alice, it seems, has been muttering inarticulately. Though no one can understand her, it's likely she's addressing the one-eyed hare.
26 October 1873
Her case is not overly remarkable... at least not when compared to the countless other patients who live within these walls. I am not minimizing her tragedy — the undeniable strain is enough to set anyone's mind askew. Imagine the horror of hearing the piteous cries of your entire family — trapped in their burning bedrooms — and being unable to help. Alice certainly heard such screams. I imagine she's been hearing them for ten years.
"Looking back, I retract this statement. Her case IS most remarkable." -7/4/74
28 October 1873
I wedged a spoon into her clenched teeth while Nurse D-, serving as my reluctant assistant, poured the newest potion down her throat. When the convulsions commenced, I double-checked the harness, turned down the flame, and left the room. It's a matter of waiting now. She'll have a fitful sleep tonight.
3 November 1873
I hear the clock ticking onward, past midnight, and then I'm suddenly aware of other sounds. In the barren pit of the night, the most disturbed minds are alive throughout the asylum. Alice isn't stirring, so I listen to the blood-curdling shrieks, the haunting clank of shackles, the insane groaning, insufferable babble and lunatic mutterings.
After the initial convulsions, Alice's body again appears lifeless. If it weren't for the for the sporadic utterances in her sleep, I'd hold the mirror to her mouth. It's impossible to comprehend what she says. It sounds like "too glum" or "through him" or "boo-jum." Nonsense really. Is it a person's name? A place? Or simply some conjuring of this raving delirium? I yell the utterance into her ear and prick her shoulder with a needle — she gasps, but her speech does not become any clearer.
"Boojum! But how does she construct such fantasies?" -11/4/74
The potion courses through her blood. Sitting in this cold room reminds me of the last treatment here. The shredded padding recalls to my mind the patient who believed rats spoke to him — they lived in the padding, he said. Indeed, he believed the spirits of his ancestors spoke to him through the rats. After the surgical drilling, he stopped having such delusions and was removed to the dormitory.
Alice remains quiet.
17 November 1873
She didn't stir for two weeks after the last treatment. Day after day, the orderlies force the medicine-laced broth and other necessary gruel into her. Perhaps, again, I was mistaken; perhaps nothing can save the girl.
She signaled a return to semi-consciousness with yet another sketch.
21 November 1873
Once again, the orderlies were up to their usual pranks. Weary of prying open Alice's mouth, the orderlies started "feeding" Alice's toy rabbit, spooning porridge onto the stuffed toy.
"My suspicions are confirmed. Those oafish orderlies are the Superintendent's misbegotten nephews!" -13/4/74
While engaged in this feeding, the orderlies learned an essential lesson in asylum protocol — never turn your back on a patient... no matter how docile she seems.
From information I've gathered, Alice woke from her comatose state and attacked the orderlies. Quite venomous in her outburst, she pursued one of the twins with a spoon. Even in her condition, she was able to deliver quite a gash. She clutched the spoon like it was a butcher knife, gouging into his fleshy cheek. Ceasing in mid-attack, she turned the spoon on herself, digging it into her wrists, trying to open up her veins. I stitched her wounds and tended to the orderly. Alice shouldn't suffer any permanent physical scars; it's too early to say the same about the orderly.
"An outburst such as this shouldn't have surprised me." -13/4/74
She has returned to her dormant state. Nothing I say or do can entice her to relive her early morning animation.
7 December 1873
Here's been a slight change. Her mouth is now relaxed, and we can feed her without force. When it's time for her elixir, she seems to part her lips slightly as if she's inviting the new potion into her belly.
Hardly a cure, but any change symbols progress.
8 December 1873
A mangy cat was licking at Alice's cheek. It hissed when I entered, and pounced onto the windowsill — it must be flesh and bones only to squeeze through the grate. I could almost perceive a smile on its scabbed face. It's curious how an animal's countenance can appear almost human.
There are so many feral cats on the grounds. I wouldn't be surprised if they outnumber the patients.
"It reminds me of the cat that pounced on Alice when she arrived here. More emaciated though." -26/4/74
11 December 1873
Six insane children escaped today - no word has come yet regarding their apprehension. I hope they don't harm the townspeople.
12 December 1873
Nurse D- lifted Alice into a wheelchair and rolled her, along with the one-eyed rabbit, into the airing courtyard. Perhaps a change of scenery might entice a bit of cooperative behavior. The nurse favors the latest doctrine espoused by the Commissioners. Compassion is creed of the day.
I watched from the window of my study. Alice didn't twitch.
13 December 1873
Something in the outdoor air may have stirred her imagination. On her return she produced an intriguing sketch. Once again she proves she is capable of doing something other than staring at the yellowed paint on the ceiling.
"At times there's talent in her madness." -26/4/74
15 December 1873
It's been three days since I removed the rabbit from her room. We can hear her screams growing louder through the closed door.
16 December 1873
The missing children were found in the abandoned schoolhouse near Milton Cross. Five were returned to infirmary bruised and bloodied from their excursion to the world outside. One was found at the bottom of an abandoned well.
18 December 1873
She raves on, worse today than ever before, as her latest drawings all too clearly indicate.
21 December 1873
When I entered her room today, Alice screamed at me to leave. I called for Nurse D-. We strapped her down and increased the morning dosage.
25 December 1873
She has returned to her trance-like state, with one notable exception — her mouth stretches very wide whenever anyone enters the room. Whether it's for the potion or for the food, she's definitely inviting more.
"What she means by repeatedly whispering "Eat me" and "Drink me" still eludes me." -23/7/74
Hello to those who are reading the story, I'm back and I have changed my pen name now! But for now on chapters 3 and 4 will be in italic unlike chapters 1&2, I think because the documents to those two chapters are now gone :( But enjoy the story :D