A/N:

The fact that you guys feel for Alice means I'm doing this right!

Her story is sad and this is just the beginning. I guess the only light in the tunnel is that we know she'll forget about it all once she wakes up as a newborn...

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 3

FRIDAY, MAY 9th 1919 – SUNDAY, JANUARY 18th 1920

"Where are you goin'?" I asked Mother when I saw her attach her hat on top of her hair.

Mother sighed in response to my question, almost as if she'd hoped I hadn't caught her, and she looked at me over her shoulder. "Sweetie, it's been nine months and nothin's happened." She turned around and cupped my cheeks with her hands. "I know you're worried, but I can't stay inside this house forever."

I placed my own hands over hers. "But Mama, I—"

"I know what you saw, Mary Alice, and you know I believe you. But you said yourself you don't know when it was supposed to happen. It could be years from now, and I can't live my life in fear."

My sight got blurry as my eyes filled with tears, and my breathing became shallower, making it difficult to get enough air into my lungs. "Please, Mama," I begged. "I-I can't lose you," I stammered, and my fear continued to grow. "I'd die without you. Please!"

She immediately placed her arms around me and squeezed me to her chest. "Oh, my sweet darlin'! It'll be all right. I'm not goin' to leave you. I'm just going to have tea with a couple friends. I'll be fine. I promise."

I did my best to calm down, but it wasn't effortless, however, knowing Mother wasn't going somewhere she could be alone and cornered made the thought of having her out of my sight easier to deal with. "Okay," I said weakly. "I'm sorry."

She wiped the tears off my face and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Don't be sorry, sweetie. I can only imagine the burden you bear. I wish I could take it on instead, but God decided this gift was meant for you."

"It doesn't feel like a gift," I murmured because every night I saw my vision on repeat, and I relived my mother's murder. How could that be a gift and not a curse?

Mother directed her eyes toward the floor in sad contemplation, and then nodded. "One day, you will recognize it as the gift it is."

I didn't argue because I saw no use in it. All I did was watch as Mother, one of the only two people in my life who believed and supported me, walk out the door and go outside where she could be shot at any moment, just like my vision had promised.

Waiting, and fearing, for my vision to be realized was a hundred times worse than being scared of the influenza that had raged through the country. While most states had seen a decline of new cases in November last year, there were still people who fell ill and perished, but I guess you could say we'd lived through the worst of it.

Father once again felt safe to travel, and he'd immediately set off for New York to deal with that potential client of his. Apparently, the gentleman owned several jewelry stores, and Father's prices for pearls were unequivocally the best on the market. At least, that was what I'd heard him say to Mother over the dinner table.

The entire day, I sat in the parlor and stared out the window, waiting to see Mother come walking down the street, and at one point, Cynthia came running to me and tugged on my dress.

"Alice, come play with me!"

"Not now, Tia," I dismissed her. "I'm waitin' for Mama."

Cynthia pouted and discouragingly dragged her feet up the stairs, but I refused to move.

A couple hours later, Lottie approached me carefully. "Miss Mary Alice, would you care for some dinner? I've prepared some for your sister in the kitchen." Lottie was always very cautious around me. She knew of my visions, as the whole town knew, but between Mother's support and Father's contempt, she didn't know how to talk to me without fearing I might lose my head at any given second.

"No, thank you, Lottie," I said, and she scurried back to the kitchen without another word. I wasn't going to eat until Mother was back home. Then, I could eat with her.

Finally, when I was about ready to call the marshal, I saw movement at the end of the street and recognized Mother's hat. I shot up from my seat and ran out the door to hug her around the waist, and she stroked my hair comfortingly.

"You were gone for so long." I started to sob, and she cooed gently in my ear.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I lost track of time. I know I shouldn't have. I'm really, really sorry."

I had already forgiven her. I was just beyond relieved she was back home and still alive.

{=LMF=}

"I have to go to the Hendersons," Mother announced suddenly, and I looked up from my book with a start. "Mrs. Henderson's hosting a garden party tomorrow evenin', and she needs help with the cookin'. Edgar, can I use the car?"

Father just hummed noncommittally and continued to read the paper, but my anxiety was spiking. Another three months had passed, and while I still got terrified every time Mother left the house, life had pretty much gone back to the way it had been before my vision and before the pandemic.

Mother blew a kiss toward Cynthia and me. "I don't know how long I'll be gone for. There was a lot of cookin' needed to be done. Mary Alice"—she met my eyes somewhat sternly—"please, don't worry. And don't stay up waitin'."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Mother challenged me with her look, and I noticed Father glaring at me from the corner of his eye, so I just nodded meekly.

"Good. I'll try to be home before dark, but if not, I will see you at breakfast tomorrow."

Just before she went out the door, I tried to silently plead with Father to say something. How could he possibly be okay with his wife going out so late in the afternoon and possibly stay out after dark?

But he did nothing. He just continued to read his paper. He didn't even bid her goodbye.

I pretended to continue reading my book, but I wasn't even able to turn the page because I wasn't okay when Mother was out of the house. I was unable to focus on anything but her coming back home.

"Mary Alice, stop with this foolishness," Father barked at me, and startled, I looked up at him. I hadn't even noticed he had finished with the paper and left the parlor. "If you can't act normal for even one evenin', go up to your room and get out of my sight."

Slowly, I closed my book and trudged up the stairs with my head hanging down. I didn't feel contrite though. I was only acting for his sake because my main thought was still on Mother.

At one point during the evening, I must have fallen asleep because, suddenly, I sat up in my bed, still wearing the day's clothes, and my heart thundering in my chest. The room was shrouded in darkness, and the rain was pelting against the windows violently. A low rumbling of thunder sounded off far away.

Something was wrong.

I got off my bed and went out into the corridor, but it was just as dark as my room. I could hear the ticking of the clock downstairs and the awful weather outside, but other than that, the house was deadly quiet.

As silently as I could manage, I padded downstairs, and to my utter dismay, I saw Mother's coat wasn't hanging in its usual place in the hall yet the clock read one o'clock.

Something was definitely wrong.

I put on my own coat and opened the door to stand on our porch. The rain was like a wall of water, and it was impossible to see the end of the street, but I could see there was no movement in the neighborhood. Everyone was sleeping except me.

"Mama?" I uselessly called out, but my voice was drowned out by the weather.

Under any other circumstance, I would have assumed Mother had stayed with the Hendersons because of the bad weather, but I was too scared for logical thinking, and the terrible feeling in my heart didn't relent. I just knew something had happened, but I still went back inside.

Clinging onto my last sliver of hope, I climbed the stairs and peeked inside the master bedroom just in case Mother had hung her coat somewhere else to dry. While Father was in deep sleep and snoring, Mother's side of the bed was empty and taunting me.

There wasn't a chance I would be able to go back to sleep that night, and I started pacing the floor by the front door.

Hours passed, and the rain outside started to slow down to a drizzle. Dawn broke, but Mother continued to shine with her absence.

When Father finally woke up and came downstairs, he narrowed his eyes at the sight of me with my arms tightly wound around myself as I stared out the window, willing Mother to appear.

"Whatever are you up to, Mary Alice?" he asked exasperatedly. "Did you sleep in your dress? It's all wrinkled and not at all decent for a young lady. Go up and change right now."

"Father," I exclaimed and ran up to him. I didn't even care about how he took a step back and flinched away from me. "Did Mother call last night? Did she say anythin' about stayin' with the Hendersons?"

"No, of course, she didn't," he replied. "But I'm certain that's where she is. She wouldn't have driven home in the bad weather."

"Can you call them?" I begged. "Father, please."

"If it calms you down," he muttered and headed toward the telephone. He picked it up and waited for the operator. "Yes, could I be connected to the Hendersons on Grants Ferry Drive in Biloxi, please? Thank you."

I wrung my hands as I waited behind him.

"Good morning, Mr. Henderson, this is Edgar Brandon. My apologies for callin' so early, but my wife wouldn't possibly still be at your house, would she?"

As he talked, my sight became out of focus, and what I saw threatened to take my sanity. I saw Mother driving home when the strange man from my first vision drove around her and abruptly hit the brakes.

She was caught unaware, and she tried to swerve out of the way, but she drove off the road and collided with a tree.

The man calmly stepped out of his vehicle and approached the wreck, and there he stood and waited. Waited for my mother to take her last breath as the wound on her head bled and stained her dress. Then, he turned and walked away.

I was gasping and clutching my stomach when I came out of the vision, but Father was still on the phone.

"No, she never came home last night. I thought perhaps she stayed with you because of the rain. Yes, you're right. I'll call the marshal. Thank you, Mr. Henderson." He hung up the phone and looked over at me. "What's the matter with you?" he asked harshly.

"It's too late," I gasped and met his hard eyes. They were always hard and cold when he looked at me, so it wasn't unusual. "I didn't see before now."

He shook his head. "I don't want to hear it," he said and almost started to walk away from me but then stopped mid-step and went back to the phone, but before he could pick it back up, there was a knock on our front door.

Outside was the town marshal himself.

"Mr. Brandon?"

"Yes?"

I peeked around Father's shoulder even though I didn't want to hear what the marshal had to say. I already knew.

"My condolences, Mr. Brandon, but we just found your car, and I'm afraid Mrs. Brandon is no longer with us."

Despite already knowing, it was like all the air left my lungs when the marshal confirmed my worst nightmare.

"My wife's dead?" Father asked, and I flinched at his words. Something about the tone of his voice made it sound as if he wasn't actually upset with the news.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brandon, but unfortunately, that is the case."

"What happened?"

"It appears as if she lost control of the vehicle and hit a tree. I don't think she suffered."

"That is a comfort at least," Father said and rubbed his neck. "Well, thank you, marshal."

"A most unfortunate accident. Once again, Mr. Brandon, my condolences."

As the marshal left and Father closed the front door, I heavily sat down on the bottom step of the stairs and buried my face in my hands. I was powerless against the onslaught of tears that pushed their way out of my eyes. "Father, please, I'm sorry," I whimpered. "If I'd seen it a little bit earlier, I could have saved her." My whole body trembled as the truth sank in. My mother, my beautiful, kind, warmhearted mother was dead.

For that moment, I wished with my whole heart that Father would just put his contempt for me aside so we could comfort each other because not only was my mother gone, so was his wife.

"I saw it," I continued. "And it wasn't an accident. A man, the same man I saw shoot her, caused her to hit that tree." I raised my tear-streaked face. "Father, you have to believe me!"

"Enough," he exclaimed loudly and glared at me. I was startled by the volume and his complete lack of empathy. "I don't want to hear any more of your stories, Mary Alice." He slowly approached me, his tall frame towering over me where I sat. "Do you even hear yourself? You sound insane."

With those words hanging in the air between us, he passed me and went up the stairs.

I'd heard him say those words to Mother during their fights, but never had he said them to my face. I clapped a hand over my mouth and suppressed my sobs as best as I could while my heart broke into tiny little pieces.

{=LMF=}

So many things just didn't feel right after Mother's death. Not only did the house feel incredibly empty without her laughter or humming echoing through the walls, but my entire life changed in a way I couldn't have anticipated.

I had never understood how much of a protective barrier Mother had been between me and Father until his remarks about me and his disapproval of my behavior became a daily routine. When she had been alive, the lashes of his tongue had never felt very deep because she had always given me a smile or comforting hug to soothe the pain.

On top of that, since I no longer had school to think about, I became Cynthia's caregiver. She was my little sister, and I loved her above everything else in the world, but being with her all day, every day, was a constant reminder of why I had to. Because Mother wasn't there.

My eighteenth birthday on September twenty-second passed without any fuss, and I wondered throughout the day if Father even remembered. Lottie gave me a weak smile and whispered "happy birthday" in my ear at breakfast, but that was it.

Thanksgiving came and went, and so did Christmas, and then New Years. Father hosted parties and events where he invited his most prestigious clients, and he demanded Cynthia and I attended each one of them to keep his image intact.

While Cynthia prospered under the attention everyone gave her, I simply went through the motions and mostly remained standing on my own against the wall or sat in a corner. Father didn't mind it much because it meant I couldn't get him into trouble.

And all the while, I held on to the truth that Mother didn't die in an accident. She had been murdered by that strange man. I just didn't know why.

However, after church one Sunday in January, Father left us alone for a moment just outside, and when he returned, there was a vaguely familiar woman on his arm. She was blonde, and almost as tall as he was, and the dress she was wearing conveyed she knew what luxury was.

"Mary Alice, Cynthia," Father said and smiled widely. He was happy, a little too happy for a man who was widowed six months ago. "Let me introduce Anna-Marie."

The woman barely acknowledged me and instead bent down to be eye-level with Cynthia. "Hello there, beautiful! You have the most gorgeous sparkly eyes I've ever seen."

Her accent couldn't have been more Yankee if she tried, and considering how often Father had traveled to New York lately, I gave him a suspicious glance. He ignored me.

"I was hopin' you could all get acquainted over lunch," he said. "I want you all to get along."

Cynthia was smiling at Anna-Marie, flattered by her compliment, and then looked at Father. "Why is that, Daddy?"

He looked at her lovingly and patted her head. "Because, sunshine, Anna-Marie and I are gettin' married. She's to be your stepmother."

I almost fainted on the spot.


A/N:

Can you imagine that feeling?

Not just is Alice's father getting married to a woman she's never met before, but just six months after her mother's death? Talk about betrayal!

Let me know your thoughts because they keep me going, which I need because this story is not easy to write :-P

Until next time,

Stay Awesome!