His eyes widened. ‘No! Of course, not! I meant if you would let me, I would love to become your friend.’
‘Oh.’ She blushed. ‘Of course, I’m so sorry.’
He pressed his lips together. ‘What bothers you so much?’
She looked at him, her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘He forces himself onto me nightly. He tells me it’s his right. After my parents had died, he took me in, and he said this is repayment and that he is good to me, and I should appreciate that this is all he wants for I am not a girl of desire.’
Croon’s fists tightened. ‘He is a coward, a disgusting pig. A …’ He looked at her, and his expression darkened. ‘A rapist. He deserves death.’
‘They would not hang him, even if anyone did believe me. He is so wealthy and—’
‘Then I will confront him tonight. Come on.’
‘No,’ she begged, pulling at his arm. ‘Do not. He will strike you.’
Croon scoffed. ‘He could try.’
He walked off into the night toward the old house where he knew her uncle lived in. It did look pretty run-down, but as he walked up the long driveway, he realised it was grander than he had ever thought. The weathered stone steps led up to a set of mahogany double doors with a large knocker shaped like a lion.
She hid behind Croon as her uncle opened the door. He growled, making his many chins shake, and looked down at the pair with beady brown eyes. ‘I told you no friends back.’
Croon looked up. ‘Oh, I am here for a much bigger reason, sir!’
The man took a step back and tried to close the door, but Croon pushed it, almost knocking the large man onto the dirty marble floor. ‘You think it okay to sleep with your niece? That is a sin!’
Her uncle looked over at her with pleading eyes as Croon knocked him to the floor by kicking his shin. Croon then tightened his fists and punched his eye. The man fell backward and hit his head on the marble. ‘Do you groan as she cries, you sick—’ He punched his nose, feeling the crack beneath his knuckle. ‘Cowardly, disgusting’— he continued punching, seeing blood splatter over the white floor—‘vile man!’
‘Stop!’ she begged. ‘You’ll kill him.’
She was right. It was too late. Her uncle was looking up at the ceiling, his gaze blank, his face pale and covered with blood. Croon stepped back, his eyes crazed, and ran out of the house into the chilly night, his jacket flaps dancing behind him with wearing the blood of his first victim.
♥♥♥
Two years passed and Croon loomed over his sixteenth victim who was currently suffocating from the bag wrapped tightly around his face. His genitals laid on the floor, chopped at the end, and blood pooled onto the floorboards below. He finally took his last breath in a panic-induced attempt at freedom but soon fell to the floor. Croon adjusted his hat which had been knocked to the side during the fight. Croon had caught the man with a child and had made him pay.
He felt no guilt for what he had done. After the uncle had been found dead, Croon’s sense of justice made him feel that it was his responsibility to rid the world of such evils, as if God himself had appointed him so.
He had taken on the infamous identity of the Hatter Killer. The serial killer who hunted perverts and killed them.
He took the man’s watch from his wrist and broke it into pieces, taking out the hands from the clock, and slipped them into his pocket. He would later sew them onto his hat as his sixteenth trophy. Sixteen murders. Sixteen times he had saved humanity from evil.
He looked down at the time on his own watch and panicked. She was expecting him home. She had lied and said someone had broken into her house the night when her uncle was found dead. She didn’t know Croon was the serial killer that they talked about in the newspapers.
He washed his hands of the blood and took off his butchering apron, and placed his hat into his suitcase then headed out the door to his wife and hot dinner.
He walked up to the grand house that she had inherited from her uncle by Croon’s hand. They never spoke of the murder, but she had grown colder since she had miscarried their first child. She knew something was wrong but couldn’t catch him in the act.
‘I’m home,’ he said as he walked through the door and hung his jacket up.
She walked out, dressed in a white dress. ‘How was work?’
He shrugged. ‘Boring, as always.’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I’ve made us dinner- Hey, what’s that?’ She grabbed his wrist where a splatter of blood lay crusted into the hairs on his arm. Her eyes widened. ‘Why do you have blood on you?’
He pulled his sleeve down. ‘I cut myself.’
‘Where?’
‘Drop it.’
She placed her hands on her hips. ‘No! You have been so secretive recently. Where have you been going? Brothels?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I must know.’
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I have no need for brothels. I have you, and you, my love, are everything.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘You just have to trust me.’
She pulled away. ‘I love you too, but I know something’s up, and I won’t stop until I know what it is. You shouldn’t have to keep anything from me; I’m your wife and would protect you no matter what.’
The murder hung unsaid in the air, and they both looked at each other in silence.
‘I know,’ he said, breaking the silence.
‘I’m pregnant again.’
His stomach twisted. ‘That’s great.’ He looked down at her stomach and felt a chill dance down his spine.
‘Really?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Tell your face that.’
She stormed into the kitchen. He trudged up the stairs and into the bathroom. He rested his head on his hands. The cold edge of the bath sunk through his trousers.
He couldn’t have a child.
That child would never be safe in a world full of bad men.
If he were caught, his child would be known as the son of a murderer.
He wouldn’t be around forever to protect the child.
A million questions raced through his mind. He contemplated the herbs again. The ones he had bought that he had slipped into her tea one night; the herbs that had caused her to miscarry.
God would know his reasons, he would understand, but if she knew the truth, she too would understand.
He repeated those words a hundred times as he searched through his sock drawer for the glass bottle. ‘Looking for this?’ a voice asked from behind him.
He turned. She was holding the bottle. He gulped. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘I know what these are used for,’ she cried. ‘How could you? Do you not want a family with me?’
He let out a long breath and looked at the floor. ‘We cannot have a child. It would get hurt like you did.’ He recounted the many times where she had flung around and screamed in her sleep, her nightmares haunted by her uncle. ‘I must kill them all before any one is safe.’
Her eyes widened. ‘What are you talking about?’
He slid down the wall and buried his head in his hands.
She sat next to him and placed her hand on his leg. ‘If you tell me, I can make it all better.’
He shook his head then laughed. ‘You do not understand. It’s my job to rid the world of evil.’
She looked down and sighed. ‘Croon, have you killed someone else?’ she whispered as she leaned closer to him.
He looked at her sideways and smirked. ‘I kill those who are evil.’
Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I suspected but couldn’t believe that it would be you.’ She paused. ‘Are you the Hatter Killer?’
He paused for a few minutes then nodded. ‘But don’t you see,’ he said, smiling, ‘I’m taking the evil from the world. Men who hurt my mother; she killed herself because of men like him, and then they hurt you.’
She glanced down, tears running down her cheeks. ‘The men you killed were not bad men, Croon. They just looked like my uncle. I saw the photographs in
the paper.’
He shook his head vigorously. ‘No. They were bad men. One was with a child.’
She shook her head. ‘None of them were found to have done anything like that.’
He thought back. Had they been with a child? Or had he thought it to motivate him into killing them? They did plead their innocence until their last breath, and now that he thought about, they did all look like—
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘I did not! I did not murder innocent people.’
‘Croon—’
‘No.’ He stood up and paced the room. ‘They were guilty,’ he said although it sounded more like a question. ‘They were guilty.’
‘We must tell someone. We can get you the help you need. They will understand—’
He went to run out of the room, but she tried blocked his exit. ‘Please, Croon. You need help. I’ll still stay with you.’ Tears still poured out.
He panicked as visions of prison or gallows shot through his mind. ‘Move,’ he ordered.
She stood in front of him as he moved over to the stairs. ‘No.’
‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Move. FOR GOODNESS’ SAKES, MOVE.’ He pushed her, perhaps a little too hard, because what happened next played on his mind for the next four years while he was trapped in the asylum.
The look of betrayal in her eyes as she fell backward and tumbled down the stairs haunted his nightmares. Until Peter came one night and took him away to somewhere he never had to think about her, the men, the asylum, or his mother again.
He went to Neverland. He could be him again. Innocent. Still a boy.
‘Hatter?’ Alice said as she opened the door, waking him from his nightmare. ‘I’m here. I’m here to free you.’ She unlocked the chains and took off the straight jacket.
‘No!’ he screamed. ‘Alice– I remember. I’m a—’ His gaze flitted around the room. ‘A murderer. I murdered. Murder, Alice.’
‘No,’ she cooed.
He pushed her away. ‘Leave me here!’
‘I can’t. Please, Croon. I need your help. I’m on the run, and I managed to get the keys, but they will find out in a minute and come for us. We must leave now.’ She looked at him with pleading eyes. ‘Please.’
He opened his mouth but closed it again. They heard the guards call to each other down the corridor. ‘Please, Croon. I need you.’
He looked at the door. ‘Okay.’
‘Stay out of sight and do not seek revenge,’ she made the hatter promise.
‘Alice, we need to go. They’re on our trail,’ Robin interjected.
Alice looked at the hatter. ‘Promise?’
He nodded. He was pale, his eyes no longer glistened, and he was dressed in black. ‘Yes. Good luck. Guess this is goodbye.’ His eyes brimmed with tears. He turned away from them. ‘I hate goodbyes. Go.’
Alice turned to Robin. ‘We cannot leave through the mirror.’
He looked a little hurt. ‘We will just have to try anyway. We have no choice.’
They ran through the forest, over the shrubbery and rocks until they fell out onto a meadow. Alice stumbled through the mirror hand in hand with Robin. She quickly let go of his and took a step to the side.
‘So … it worked.’ She didn’t know what else to say and what more could she say? The mirror was supposed to only let those out who were in love, yet she knew she didn’t love him. ‘Guess the mirror changed its rules.’
His expression darkened and his posture straightened. ‘It must be that then.’ If his tone were a venom, Alice would be dead by now. ‘Nice to meet you, thanks for your help.’ With a quick glanced back at the mirror, he walked off, leaving Alice alone in the cold room.
‘Wendy,’ she whispered. ‘Wendy.’ In fact, she kept saying her name over and over in hopes that it would somehow bring Wendy back. The music of New Orleans no longer made her smile, and nothing in the world filled her with wonder. With each car journey and ship ride home, she panged for Wonderland, even in its terribleness. Her dress was still blotted with crimson, but neither the crew nor the chauffeurs asked any questions. Perhaps it was the crazed look in her eyes that kept them silent?
She knocked half-heartedly on the door and looked at the face of her mother who had aged ten years from worry. ‘You look dreadful,’ was all her mother could say.
‘Thanks,’ Alice muttered and trudged into the living room where she was greeted by her father’s stern gaze.
‘What happened to you?’ he asked and placed his glass of scotch on top of the cabinet. ‘You look like you’ve come from a brothel.’
Alice suppressed the need to roll her eyes and softened as Wendy flitted across her mind. ‘I have something to tell you both.’ Her gaze met her mother’s, who was standing by the doorway. ‘You should both sit.’
Neither did, clearly defiant against doing as their daughter wanted. Instead, Alice’s father raised an eyebrow. ‘For goodness’ sakes, child, what is it?’
Alice cleared her throat. ‘Wendy is dead.’ Surprisingly, she didn’t feel bad for the harshness in which she said it yet saying it aloud made it true, and the truth hurt her. ‘She was killed, and if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me. That is all I have to say, and I shall be leaving now.’
Her mother held out her arm, blocking the door. ‘How did she die?’
‘Fire,’ Alice said bluntly and lowered her mother’s arm. ‘I won’t be coming back this time,’ she admitted and walked to the front door. She didn’t dare say that Wendy had been executed. She found out that Wendy was burned, tied to a small stake. They said her screams were enough to make anyone cry, and that was enough to tear Alice’s heart out, with the assurance she could never feel again.
She looked around and realised she didn’t have any possessions. Everything of hers was lost. She got into a taxi and headed to the only place she thought right—Sherwood Forest, where Robin had gone back too.
It took seven hours by car until she reached the edges of Sherwood Forest. It was bigger than she imagined, and darker, too. The trees lined the winding path as she walked up it, hoping she wouldn’t have to step into the dense forest. She turned and walked down a path littered with skeletal trees and fallen branches. She hadn’t seen one person, so with a deep breath and racing heart, she stepped off the path into the thick forest. The trees swallowed her into a matte blackness. She couldn’t believe that it was still sunny outside.
No animals sounded nor did anything move, and everything looked dead. The more she walked, the quicker her heart pounded. She held her arm out in front of her, mostly blinded in the darkness, and felt a rope. She ran her fingers around it and screamed out when she realised what it was.
A noose … and someone was hanging from it. Her mouth filled with vomit, and she stepped backward, tripping on a vine. She hit her head on a trunk and crimson sprayed onto her blond waves.
She had heard him before she saw him, his heavy panting, his hands on her arms as he dragged her across the forest floor. Robin, it must be him; he must had found her and was taking her to safety.
The sharp edge of a dagger gliding along her skin snapped her back to reality. ‘Robin?’
‘He’s here?’ the voice replied. ‘Where is he?’
‘Are you a skinner?’ she asked, remembering Robin’s stories.
The man laughed evilly. ‘You’ll soon find out if you don’t tell me where he is.’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. She looked up and saw the man’s silhouette. ‘I think he’s hiding to the east,’ she lied. He turned, and she seized her chance. Leaping up, she kneed him in his crotch. He fell to the ground, screaming. She slammed her heel down on his face, piercing it through his eyeball. She dusted herself off and wiped the blood from her heel onto some leaves.
‘Well, well,’ a familiar voice said from behind her. ‘You’re stronger than you look. You never cease to surprise me.’
‘Robin,’ she breathed. ‘Sorry, I had to come and see you … I didn’t have anywhere else to go, to be honest.’<
br />
‘Always happy to be the lady’s last resort.’ He laughed.
She held out her hands and found his body. ‘I may have missed you a little, too.’
He poked her side. ‘You too, love. I was going to come and find you. Nothing’s changed here, and the only reason I left Wonderland was because you needed me to leave …’
‘I didn’t?’ She paused.
You can only leave with your true love.
Her stomach knotted. ‘Either way, thank you.’
He frowned. ‘Yet I should return.’
She nodded. ‘I will, too. There’s nothing here for me anymore. Why didn’t you come with me, then? If you knew you couldn’t do anything here?’
Silence hung between them. He wasn’t about to admit the petty truth; that she hurt his feelings by not acknowledging what was between them. ‘I wanted to see the forest for myself first,’ he lied. ‘I shouldn’t have left you. It was petty.’
She bit her lip. ‘You do know we are returning to an almost imminent death?’
He nodded. ‘I am, not you. I’ll protect you with my life.’
‘Do you tell all the ladies that?’
‘Only the pretty ones,’ he said. ‘Come on. I know several crews are leaving for America tonight at the harbour.’
♥♥♥
Alice and Robin fell out into the room on the other side of the mirror, grabbed the key, drank the potion, and walked through the smaller mirror until they fell out onto the grass. ‘It’s weird that they only have that room coming in.’
He shrugged. ‘The queen’s mad. God knows why she does the things she does. Let’s find the hatter.’
They walked up to the wrought-iron gate and creaked the door open. They hurried over to the town square and just avoided the heavy rainfall that swept down then disappeared. ‘Doesn’t it seem a little too quiet?’ Alice asked. They stood under an awning outside a coat shop. ‘There’s hardly anyone here.’
‘Perhaps we’re too late.’
She hit his arm. ‘Don’t say that.’ She looked over at the hatter’s fence. ‘Come on.’
They reached the fence. The smell of burning wood hit both their noses. They pushed open the gate, and Alice gasped. The house was charred, the table was broken into a hundred pieces, and a layer of ash covered everything else. ‘What have they done?’ she cried.
Into Wonderland (Haunting Fairytales Series Book 3) Page 9
