by A. G. Stone
My thoughts scared me; no, they terrified me. It was like I had a second personality, a darker, crazier side that lurked somewhere deep in my mind, so deeply rooted in my mind I couldn't get rid of it unless I were to kill myself. This part of me was terrifying and difficult to think about without assuming that I was insane. Wasn't it a characteristic of insanity to have double personalities?
My second personality I called Aliz because it sounded like Alice but it wasn't Alice. My second personality was all of the insanity in me. I blamed her for me being insane; it was easier to blame a fictional character of my own sick, deluded mind than to believe that it was me who was insane. It was terrifying to think that you're insane; it's terrifying to think that you're different. It was terrifying to wonder if you were even human because you heard voices and saw visions and knew things that other people didn't about common stories that almost everyone knows - or at least they think they know.
As I considered this, I popped a piece of gum into my mouth to keep from gnawing more on my cheek and turned up the volume on my iPod as one of my favorite artists in my favorite genre - heavy rock - came on with one of their best songs: "Iced Heart" by Temporary. The song "Iced Heart" basically described my goal: to ice over my heart until I didn't care about anything or anyone anymore. I was tired of everything, of being used, of being abused, of being treated like nothing. But I was too scared to end my life, and every time I tried, when I gathered up enough courage to try, it was as though some invisible hand stopped me and a voice told me in the sweetest, most attractive voice I've ever heard, "Don't. We need you . . ." The ending was always blotted out of my memory as if I wasn't supposed to know that just yet.
As I sat there listening to my music, my phone began to ring. I paused the music by clicking the center button on my dark, royal purple iPod hanging on my belt loop. I then picked up my phone and answered the call. "Hello?" I asked, and there was the sound of static on the other end.
Then in a terrifyingly familiar voice, the person on the other end said, "Ding-dong, guess who? Do not worry, luv; I'm coming for you."
"Who is this?" I asked, and the voice on the other end chuckled.
"Do you not remember me? Well, I guess it has been many. Well, no matter, then. I will say it again. Ding-dong, guess who? Do not worry, luv; I'm coming for you. Forget me again. Do not worry; it'll simply be a part of your chain. Your mother sent you away. But it doesn't matter; let's play. You VS me, we'll have some real fun. Maybe we'll even put out the sun," the voice said, and I continued to chew my cinnamon gum quietly, hoping to keep calm.
"Who is this?" I repeated, now almost completely terrified.
"The one you love. Go ahead; send me your mourning dove. I know you love me. Maybe I'll take you back to the Ash Tree. Remember me now? I'm the one to whom you made that vow," the voice said tauntingly, and I took a deep breath.
"What do you want with me?" I asked, almost afraid of the answer. No, who was I kidding? I was terrified of the answer.
"Come back to Wonderland, luv. Everyone else has fallen short of. Wait for the two. They will lead you. I am captured now, luv. This will be the last time we speak, darling dove. Sending you part of my soul now. You will feel me with you forever if you only allow. Accept my gift, luv. And forever you will be a part of," the voice replied, speaking in riddles that I suspected I would only understand when it was time for me to understand them.
As soon as the phone call had begun, it ended. There was suddenly the dial tone on the other end, and I set my phone down, freezing in place. I was too terrified to even turn my music back on. What did the voice mean, sending a piece of its soul to me? Suddenly, there was a glowing light in front of me. Before I could react or bat it away, it dove down my throat and I could feel a strange feeling as though the glowing light had attached to my soul.
I fainted.
Chapter 4:
Arguments and Friendships
"Are you serious?" Arianna asked me, looking up at me from my drawing.
"Yeah," I said, nodding as I shrugged. "I'm thinking about getting it tattooed under one of my eyes. What do you think?"
"Are you parents okay with this?" she asked instead, her blue eyes wide.
I rolled my eyes at the thought of my parents - the idea of the pain that they had caused me, the scars that they had left on my heart and arms and thighs, the memory of the terror they had left embedded in my soul that whenever I got close to someone they would only hurt me.
"They don't care," I said, giving her a look; I expected her to know this, as I had told her just as I had told all of my other friends. "I can do anything I want, just as long as I don't get caught or get in trouble. Their other requirement is that I can't end up in the asylum either, not like Grandma Alys or my mother."
"I've half a mind to put you in the asylum, too," Ariana muttered, and my eyes widened as hurt panged through my heart and down my limbs.
"Jeez, thanks," I said bitterly, yanking my drawing from her hands. I was careful not to rip it, though I had the image imprinted in my mind. "It's not that bad. Besides, the drawing isn't crazy."
The drawing itself was simple. It was of several black roses with red, bleeding hearts as their centers, all wrapped up in thorns. Vines adorned with thorns twined around the roses, weaving in between each petal, so that it spelled out a word. It was an Egyptian character meaning 'eternal'. As far as the beauty of the drawing, I was pretty proud. It was wonderfully shaded, with brilliant and dazzling colors and harsh angles and dark colors too; it looked like something that belonged in my version of Wonderland.
"Yeah, sure," Ariana said sarcastically, her voice harsh. "Just remember, one of your creations, the Dark Prince as you call him, has that tattooed under his left eye. And he's insane, waiting in a gold coffin for you to come awaken him with a kiss or some shit like that." She made a disgusted face with her painted features decorated with what appeared to be clown make-up and pointed at the drawing with a stubby finger topped with lime green nail polish.
"Wrong fairy tale, and it's up and down the left side of his face, twining over that side of his face, and it's not a tattoo, Ariana," I said quietly, hugging my drawing to my chest as I bit down on my cheek and began to gnaw on it.
She gave me a disgusted look, acting so superior to me that I had to bite the tip of my tongue to keep from yelling at her to respect me, to tell her that I was a person, too, who deserved kindness and respect as well. "Whatever," she said, dismissing my correction with her stubby, little hand. "The point is every time we see Alice in Wonderland in its many adaptions, you're always correcting it, telling me how everything is all wrong in the story and the movies."
"It is wrong! Wonderland isn't all whimsical and magical! It's dangerous and dark and filled with murderous creatures out to take your last breath!" I exclaimed, my dark brown eyes wide as I tried to get the idea into her head, and Ariana gave me a disgusted look with a sneer pulling her features into unattractive and harsh angles.
"Bryony," she said harshly, and I flinched at the bitterness and hatred inside her voice, painting it a rich color of loathing and cruelty. "Your visions are not real. They're delusions created by a very sick mind. The White Rabbit is supposed to be a cut, furry bunny wearing a waistcoat and carrying a pocket watch. But you changed him; you made him a monster with the body of a skeleton with tattered fur barely covering the sharp angles of his bones, the fur peeling back in places to reveal his stark white bones. That isn't normal.
"And your childhood friend, Seth, he isn't real - just like everything else in your life. The characters you've created for your freaky, little, fucked-up fantasies are just that: fantasy. They aren't real. You're just a freak who acts like she's normal and plays the innocent card as if there's nothing wrong with her but a bad background. It's you that's screwed up, not your family, not your friends. You're the freak, and you deserved everything that came to you - especially being bullied about the Elliot incident."
I sighed, and Ariana stalked of
f, her hips swaying in what she thought was taunting - it was actually pathetic, the way her skinny little hips swished and her short little dress clung to her nonexistent curves. "Guess I just have terrible friends and a terrible choice in friends," I muttered, blinking away tears. "My visions always seem to drive people away from me; it isn't my fault my family is cursed. I can't control the things I see; I just tell people about them 'cause I trust them, but they treat me terribly when I do. Maybe I shouldn't trust anyone anymore.
"People are like poisoned wine; it's sweet, but it always ends up killing you in the end."
I burst into tears, plugging back into my music as a sad, slow song came on called "Not Alive" by Alice in Deadland.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Are you sure you're okay, Bryony?" Madame Annaliese asked me, her voice warm and caring like the voice of a mother; to me, Madame Annaliese was like my mother, since my mother hadn't been present for most of my life.
I shot her a smile, secretly turning up the volume on my iPod as the song, "Burn it on the Inside" by Death's Grace. "Yeah, I'm good, Madame Annaliese. What else do you want me to repair?"
"Nothing, dear," Madame Annaliese replied, grinning at me. "You have the rest of the day off."
I blinked, turning down the volume in case I had heard her wrong. "But I have absolutely nothing to do," I said, biting down on the inside of my cheek, "so what's the point of a day off?"
"The point, my dear Bryony, is that your best friend, Amber, the only one that - in my opinion, and you know how well that usually turns out - you can trust, is out there, wandering through the mall all by herself," she said, pointing out the window at my brunette ex-best friend - for the time being it appeared - until we made up again, who was - as Madame Annaliese had said - wandering the mall. "She's probably lonely, waiting to find a friend as wonderful as you, waiting for a friend as amazing as you to walk into her life. Go out there and make up with her, apologize for only talking about yourself. Be friends again. You need good friends, especially after that terrible spat with Ariana."
I gaped at my employer, the woman with graying golden red hair pulled up in a bun smiling at me with painted red lips, caked on make-up hiding the wrinkles in her face. The only wrinkles that she left alone were the wrinkles around her eyes that showed she smiled a lot; those were precious to her, as well as the fond and happy memories that accompanied each and every wrinkle around her eyes. Her laugh wrinkles just made her even more beautiful. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't I have a wonderful, beautiful face like hers even though she was old - at least 70? I was terribly ugly in my opinion, and I always wondered why guys seemed to like me so much - more than Amber and the others, who were so much more beautiful than I was.
"How do you know about that?" I asked incredulously. "We were alone when we started arguing, and when it was done, I sat by myself crying for at least five minutes before anyone came into the café."
Madame Annaliese smirked at me, tapping the lobe of her ear. "I have ears everywhere. Now, go, Bryony. Leave the work to May and I, 'kay, little luv?"
I nodded, ignoring the pang of familiarity and longing stinging my heart, and waved to May, the girl with her fiery red hair pulled up into a ponytail who worked alongside me and Madame Annaliese in the Costume Emporium; there was another girl who worked there, called Andréa who had brown hair and light blue eyes, but she was hardly ever there and we didn't really get along - mostly because she was a snobby brat that treated the customers and the other employees terribly. I had always wondered why Madame Annaliese kept Andréa around, but whenever I suggested firing her, Madame Annaliese always told me not to judge books by covers and that she needed Andréa around; apparently she was good help around the shop even though she drove most customers away with her bad attitude.
May smiled at me with her pale pink lips that she only painted with light gloss that didn't change her lips too much. Her eyes, a light brown, sparkled with friendliness, and her smiles simply lit up the room. And she waved back, her perfectly manicured hands - topped with light pink painted nails - moving gracefully.
"Good luck!" she called, and I bit the inside of my cheek.
"Thanks, May. Have a good rest of the day," I said, grinning at her.
"Thank you, Bryony," May said, and we giggled together.
While May wasn't considered to be one of my friends, for the main reason that I hadn't told her the secret about my visions, she and I were very friendly with each other. You kind of have to be when you work together, you know? But she and I were very friendly with each other, and we had even exchanged numbers. If we passed each other in the hallway, we would wave to each other. So, yeah, we could be considered friends. I was considering trusting May with my most secretive secret, the one about my visions, knowing that she was an excellent person to tell about this secret; May was very accepting and warm, and she could be trusted to keep a secret, to take it with her to the grave.
I walked out of the store, parting the curtains that shrouded the entrance in dark velvet mystery. I blinked in the artificial light of the mall, a bit blinded by the brightness and falseness of the lights. I rubbed my eyes with my palms and sighed before I began to walk towards 32 Below, an awesome ice cream store that my friends and I used to go to before I got my visions and drove them all away with tales of poisoned roses and animals with the skin hanging off of their bones and men with markings up and down the left side of their faces in different colors - in every color of the rainbow.
I ordered a scoop of Apple Pie and two scoops of Amaretto, each on sugar cones decorated with chocolate and rainbow sprinkles. I took a few licks of my Apple Pie ice cream before walking up to Amber and shoving the Amaretto ice cream in her face.
"Here," I said, giving her a smile. "I'm sorry for everything, for only talking about me and what's going on in my life instead of asking you about yours; we all make mistakes, you know? Please forgive me; I don't know what I would do without you."
Amber grinned at me and took the ice cream from my hand, taking a huge bite of it. "You're forgiven, Bryony. You know, you always come up with the best apologies. How did you know Amaretto is my favorite flavor?"
I shrugged, giving her a mysterious smile. "I guess it was just a lucky guess," I said, even though the truth was that I had seen that she loved Amaretto in a vision - a vision of this happening, actually, and she shrugged also.
"Good enough for me," Amber said, and she locked her arm with mine as we walked through the mall, chattering with each other cheerily.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The man with the large top-hat on stared into the mirror, at the image of a brunette girl walking with her friend. "Hurry, Alice," he begged in a soft, sweet voice like honey. "Hurry and save us. We're running out of time. Save us, please. We won't survive without you."
Chapter 5:
Coffee With Strangers
"I say raspberry," I said, tugging at the collar of my winter jacket, but Amber shook her head, almost dislodging her purple earmuffs.
"Caramel," she said, and I made a face, combing my fingers through my dark brown hair.
"What about blue raspberry?" I suggested, and Amber made a face.
"I hate anything raspberry," she said, and I groaned.
"Well, I hate anything caramel," I said, and she groaned.
"Looks like we're at an impasse," Amber said, and I shrugged.
"Well, what are we going to do now?" I asked, and she shrugged.
"Hell if I know," she muttered, looking down at the candy flavor emblems - painted in bright, neon colors - we had to choose from.
"If I may interrupt," a boy behind us said as he combed the bangs of his black hair from his eyes. I was shocked to see that he had the same green diamonds under his left eye as the guy from some of my visions had, as well as the same face shape. The only difference was his eyes; instead of being light-colored, they were very dark and beautiful. The diamonds had the same glimmer and shine, and I wondered idly if the diamonds w
ere upraised or not, like they had been glued on to his cheek.
Amber elbowed me in the side, and I let out a cry of pain, snapping back to reality as I realized I had been staring; I blushed. "Yes, you may," she said, smiling warmly at the boy.
"I would suggest lemon-lime," he said, pointing out the flavor painted in neon green and yellow he had suggested to us on the board with two slender fingers, tapping the board.
Amber and I looked at each other; we were both surprised that the other hadn't noticed that option, screaming at us in bright, neon yellow and neon lime green.
"I love lemon," I said, smiling.
"And I love lime," she said, smiling just as widely.
"Thank you," we said in unison, turning back to the boy.
"You're very welcome," the boy said, miming tipping an invisible hat to us. "All that I ask in return is that you join my friend and me for coffee after this."
Amber and I looked at each other and made our decision by communicating with each other with our matching, dark brown eyes. We both turned back to him and nodded.
"Absolutely," Amber said, her eyes raking over the boy in every detail of his clothing, of his shape.
The boy was perfectly calm under Amber's flirtatious scrutiny, and he turned to me. "You'd best order, little one," he said teasingly, pointing behind me, and I turned to see that Amber and I were next to order.
"Thanks again," I said, ignoring the blush painting my cheeks red at his nickname, grabbing Amber's arm, and towing her off so we could order; she was no doubt jealous of the fact that he had chosen me to give the first nickname to, but I gave her a look saying that she could have him. After that, she calmed down considerably, and we began to order.
