A/N:
Hey guys! Sorry for not uploading this yesterday but I had a killer headache after work so I just had to go to bed early!
So here's a little Saturday reading for you! ;-)
Title: Origins: Living in my Future
Author: MarieCarro
Beta: Alice's White Rabbit
Pre-reader: BitterHarpy
Genre: Supernatural/Mystery
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Mary Alice Brandon had always been different. She seemed to know things that had yet to happen, and the people in town avoided her at all costs. But the cries of "Witch" or whispers of "Changeling" wasn't her biggest concern. Someone much closer to her than the townsfolk couldn't accept her differences, and it put her in life-threatening danger.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
CHAPTER 2
SATURDAY, MARCH 23rd – FRIDAY, AUGUST 9th 1918
My breathing was heavy as I crawled farther into the corner of my room, hoping to just disappear into the shadows.
So much death.
With shaking hands, I pulled my sweaty hair behind my ears and then buried my face in them.
Chaos. Panic. Confusion … more death.
My entire body was covered in goosebumps, but I wasn't cold. The hair on the back of my neck was drenched, and my back was soaked with perspiration. The night's dream had truly done a number on me, and it was even worse because I already knew it had been a vision.
They were getting worse—stronger. This one hadn't been restricted to me or people I associated with, Biloxi, or even Mississippi. It was worldwide, and devastation would follow wherever it went.
I'd already seen it all, yet there was nothing I could do to even attempt to stop it. It was too late. The world had been doomed.
Early cases would be dismissed. No one would listen. Not until …
I whimpered as my mind was continuously assaulted by more images. I'd never experienced anything like it before. But why? If there was nothing I could do to stop it, why did I have to see this?
The parade. There would be a parade in the fall.
When? September.
Where? A big city. I could see a huge bell. I'd seen that bell before. At school, on a picture. The Liberty Bell! Philadelphia.
The disease would spread from the soldiers to the public, and it would escalate quickly. Only a few days and every hospital would be overwhelmed with patients.
It would continue spreading.
The large cities would feel it the most, and it would spread fast. Hospitals all over the country would overflow, families would be wiped out, and streets would become empty because people would be too scared to leave their houses. The precautions would be futile; the mouth covers would do nothing.
I let out a scream out of pure despair, and what felt like less than a second later, trembling but loving hands caressed my arms and cupped my face.
"Mary Alice, sweetie, calm down. It will be okay. Everythin' will be okay. Just breathe."
"Mama," I wept and fell into her arms. "It's awful. Just awful."
Mother shushed softly and comforted me until I got my breathing under control and my tears were only silently trailing down my cheeks. "It's okay," she repeated. "It's not your fault. It's okay." She momentarily leaned away and raised my chin so that I'd look at her. "Do you want to tell me about it?"
I nodded shakily. I had to tell someone who'd believe me or I'd go insane. Once I'd explained everything, Mother's eyes were horrified and scared, but I was beyond relieved to see that she still believed me.
"Oh, sweetie," she breathed and took me in her arms again. She had no more words after that, but I didn't mind. Just having released the building pressure inside me and still having her love made me feel infinitely better.
We lingered on the floor, in each other's arms, for a moment longer.
I could feel the tension in Mother's frame, and I understood she was scared, yet she never ceased comforting me. She was my hero, and I wished I could repay her somehow instead of always being the bringer of bad news.
"Do you want some breakfast?" she asked and lovingly wiped away the stray tears on my face.
I took a deep breath to center myself, and then nodded.
Mother helped me stand up, but before we exited my room, she faced me again.
"Sweetie, you know I never ask you to suppress your gift or hide what you know, but this dream needs to stay between you and me, okay? If anyone in town heard as much as a whisper of this, they could claim you're dangerous and demand you be locked away. Do you understand?"
It wasn't the first time she warned me about talking about my more disconcerting visions and what the consequences could be if I did. When I was a child, I'd naïvely thought nothing could happen to me as long as I had Mother's protection. However, as I grew older, I understood the shielding she provided me with her body could only do so much against those who were determined enough to send me away.
So I took her warning seriously. "I won't breathe a word."
Mother continued plaintively. "That means Cynthia as well. And Lottie. And especially your father."
I nodded again. "Yes, Mama. I promise."
She gently cupped her hands around my face. "One day, I don't know when, but one day, I vow that you'll get to be yourself with your family." She hugged me tightly one last time, and then we descended to the first floor to have breakfast in the dining room.
I felt relieved it was the weekend and that I had no school because it gave me the opportunity to keep my hands busy and not let my mind wander as it had a tendency to do when I was ignored by Miss Howard in class.
I helped Lottie around the kitchen, but when she shooed me out of there, I helped Mother to mend a couple of dresses.
Then, she produced the latest issue of a magazine she subscribed to, Cosmopolitan, and said there were pictures showcasing the latest in women's clothes, and how she contemplated altering a few of her older ones to sew me a new one.
There were marvelous photographs of Diana Allen, Mrs. Vernon Castle, Arline Chase, and Edith Hallor. Two of the actresses had very short and wavy hairstyles, and I studied a lock of my own waist-long black hair.
"Mama, can you do my hair like this?" I asked and pointed at the picture of Edith Hallor.
Mother beheld the picture and smiled at me. "I'll show you how to put up your hair similarly without cutting it." She stroked my hair and placed a kiss on top of my head. "But that is a lovely dress she's wearing. Would you like something like that?"
I really did. The dress was gorgeous, but I was fairly certain I wouldn't have an opportunity to wear it. "It is lovely, but I'm never invited to any parties, Mama. It would be wasted on me."
"Nonsense, sweetie. We might have to purchase some more fabric though." She reached for her hat and started to pin it into place on top of her hair. "Do you want to accompany me?"
"I'd love to," I replied enthusiastically and hurried up the stairs to fetch my own hat.
"How about you, Cynthia?" Mother asked when I came back downstairs, but Cynthia shook her head. "Fine, then. Lottie, you'll keep an eye on our little sunshine, will you?"
"Of course, ma'am."
My day turned out great despite its horrible start because I got to spend it with Mother and Cynthia. Not until dinner that night was I unpleasantly reminded of my vision.
"I'm traveling to New York to meet with a potential new client," Father announced across the table.
My fork froze and hovered just above my plate as I stared at Father in horror. New York. That was one of the big cities where the disease would spread first.
I reacted without thinking. "No, Father, you can't go!" I exclaimed and dropped the fork with a clatter against the plate as I reached to put a restricting hand over his. He immediately pulled out from under my grip as if my touch had burned him.
"Mary Alice, what is wrong with you? Yelling nonsense like that. You'll scare your mother and sister," he said and glared at me angrily.
I turned my head to meet Mother's eyes. She subtly shook her head, but I couldn't stay quiet even though I'd promised her I would.
I had to make him understand. The disease would still reach Biloxi, but not until late September, unless travelers such as him brought it to us much earlier. The town was a very social one, and we wouldn't stand a chance unless the government was allowed to take their safety measures first.
I turned back to him. "Father, please, listen to me, just this once," I begged. "People are sick in New York. They'll die. If you go, you'll die too."
Cynthia flew up from her seat and hugged Father's arm tightly. He didn't repel her touch like he had mine. "Papa, I don't want you to die!"
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I am not dying, honey," he said reassuringly. "Mary Alice is just lettin' her imagination run wild again." He locked angry eyes with Mother, but I refused to let him speak over my head again.
"It's not an untruth. I promise!"
Maybe there was something in my eyes that made Father take me seriously this one time, but he also looked terrified. He extracted himself from Cynthia's grip and grabbed my wrist hard in his hand to pull me violently from my seat. It caused Cynthia to cry out in fear, but Mother was already there comforting her.
"Ow, that hurts," I cried when I couldn't ignore the pain in my arm from him yanking it so hard.
"You tell me exactly what you know right now, Mary Alice," he said thunderously. "If I'm about to jeopardize my business, you'd better know what you're talkin' about!"
I glanced momentarily at Cynthia and saw how Mother subtly covered her ears before I told Father what I'd seen in my dreams that night. We had agreed early on that Cynthia wouldn't have to bear the burden of my curse as well.
To further prove I wasn't lying, I pointed at the morning's paper. "You can read about it. Soldiers are fallin' ill every day, but no one knows why. It will get worse, Father."
Father aggressively released me before reaching for the paper and stomping out of our dining room.
With fresh tears running down my cheeks, my knees gave out, and I sobbed heartbreakingly on the floor. I sobbed for the promise I'd made to Mother but had now broken, I sobbed for the man I called Father but had never truly been a father to me, and I sobbed for the tenderness he showed my sister while bestowing nothing but his disdain on me.
I had not asked for my curse, yet I was being punished every day for possessing it.
Later that same night, I lay in my bed, open-eyed, not at once falling asleep, and thought of Father with agitation. I couldn't force him to believe me, but I had a strong feeling that suggested he would doom the family if he ignored me and traveled to New York.
My throat was uncomfortably dry, and I decided to go down to the kitchen to fetch a drink, but when I approached the top of the stairs, I heard voices, and I crouched down in the corridor to listen.
Every single word was as clear as if I'd been down there myself. Maybe they thought both Cynthia and I were asleep, or maybe Father just didn't care whether I heard him or not anymore since he'd never hidden his true feelings from me. I knew he despised me and everything I was.
If only I'd been normal like Cynthia, everything would have been different.
"You're feedin' her madness, Lilly! You're makin' it worse."
"How am I makin' it worse, Edgar? I'm just showin' our first-born daughter the same love I show Cynthia. What is wrong with that?"
"The wrong is that you know as well as I do where her delusions will lead. Where she will end up! Where I wanted her to go before the entire town knew of this!"
"You're speakin' of shovin' your own daughter into a hole and throwin' away the key! Because that's what those places are!" Mother's voice was rising as well. For such a soft-spoken woman, she could yell when she wanted to. "I wouldn't condone it then, and I won't condone it now. There is nothin' wrong with her!"
"Quit lyin' to yourself, Lillian! She's insane, and you can't help her. She belongs in a hospital where they can treat her before she makes even more a fool of herself and us!"
"That's all that matters to you, isn't it? Your reputation and your business. There's more to life than money and those socialites you believe are your friends."
"Don't forget you have those socialites to thank for this house. For the pretty dresses you wear."
A loud thud revealed that something had either been thrown or dropped.
"If it meant we could be a proper family, I would give all of that up in a heartbeat."
Approaching steps indicated that Mother was heading upstairs, and I hurried back into my room. I didn't want her to know I'd heard their fight.
Fear gripped my heart as I understood how broken my family was. I'd always known Mother and Father didn't see eye to eye on a lot of subjects, but despite that, I'd assumed they still loved each other, as parents were supposed to do.
Suddenly, the darkness of my room melted away in front of my very eyes, and a distorted image of my father walking into a ballroom with a strange, equally distorted woman on his arm filled my vision.
It was impossible to discern any details of the vision, but I instantly knew that the woman wasn't Mother. This woman was blonde, and a lot paler, and what was even more surprising was that Father was smiling as they walked together.
Never in my entire life could I remember having seen Father smile.
The vision disappeared, and I was once again staring at the darkness in my room.
The fear I'd felt in my heart before grew tenfold as the air around me thickened with an ominous threat. Something terrible would happen, but I had no idea how or when.
{=LMF=}
Miraculously, Father didn't travel to New York in March. In fact, he stayed in Biloxi all summer after Mother insisted he do so or he'd put the entire family in danger of contracting this unknown disease.
The papers continued to report, albeit sporadically, but I read everything I could about it, and as the vision had told me, the early cases were dismissed. Despite several deaths in New York, Washington, Chicago, Seattle, and Los Angeles, only the most dedicated person could spot the pattern, and with every day, I felt my hopelessness grow.
In August, I was as tense as a bowstring because, in my head, the countdown had started, and naturally, those closest to me noticed.
"What's the matter with you lately, Alice?" Wilson asked me as he and I once again sat and stared out over the ocean.
"It will happen soon," I said, but I hadn't told him about my vision in the first place so he had no idea what I was speaking of. I didn't want to tell him everything now either because even though I knew he'd believe me, I didn't want to scare him too much. I looked at him, and then grabbed his hands in mine. "Wilson, will you promise me somethin'?"
He nodded. "Of course."
"I don't know how far the public announcements will reach in your neighborhood, but there's a disease coming. It will reach Biloxi in September, and when it does, I want you to stay in your house. Tell your family not to go outside."
Once again, he nodded. "For how long?"
I released his hands and plaintively stared at the ground. "I don't know for sure. For as long as you can, I guess."
Wilson was about to say something when, without warning, I was hit with my strongest vision yet. The surprise of it caused me to gasp, but it was the prediction itself that made me cry out in agony.
"No!"
All I saw was the vision, but I could still hear and feel what was happening beyond it. Wilson shot to his knees and held onto my arms, calling my name and gently shaking me as if he wanted me to wake up. What he didn't know was that I was as awake as I could be. But slowly, he coaxed me back into the present.
"Alice, look at me," Wilson said. "Take deep breaths and look at me." He had never witnessed when I had a vision before, but somehow, he knew exactly what to say to help me.
It took longer than usual for the images to melt away, but when they did, and I saw my Wilson's eyes looking at me with worry, my body weakened, and I fell into his arms. Hard sobs wracked through my body, and he stroked my back.
I couldn't shake the vision. Not even as I felt his arms around me or heard his voice in my ear. All I saw whenever I closed my eyes was the strange man with glasses and weird mustache pointing the pistol, and as the blood spread and stained the fabric of the dress, he ran away, allowing her to succumb to death.
"No, please, it can't be true," I whimpered into the fabric of Wilson's shirt.
"What can't be true, Alice? What did you see?" he asked gently.
I had to take a deep breath before I could tell him, and even then, the words came out shaky. "I-I saw my mother getting killed."
A/N:
Writing this story has given me so much sympathy for Alice now, and I hope I'm doing a good enough job for you to feel the same. This character has been given too much flak in the past because she's bubbly and enthusiastic.
As we go forward in this story, you will see my interpretation as for why she is the way she is in the Twilight Saga. I believe there's a deeper psychological reason for it.
Until next time,
Stay Awesome!
