The Girl Called Alice

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

August 25, 1909

When I awoke, I was tired. My eyes felt strange from crying so much. Cynthia was already up and out of bed. The morning light was shining through the thin, white curtains on the window. I slowly jumped off the bed and went to the closet. I took of my nightgown and slipped on my blue and white dress. I fumbled with the strings but managed to tie them. I slipped on my shoes, brushed through my long, midnight black hair and walked downstairs. My mother was in the kitchen, humming and flipping pancakes. I sat down at the table.

“Good morning, Alice. Did you sleep well?”  My mother’s name is Catherine. She doesn’t look a thing like me or Cynthia. She’s much prettier with her wavy golden hair and her large blue eyes. The only thing we have in common is our slim figures.

“No.” She turned around to look at my face, which I am sure looked a mixture of horrified and depressed. “Alice, what’s the matter?” “I shook my head. “Mary Alice, tell me what is wrong.”

“Momma, you’re gonna die,” I choked out. I started to sob again. Her face fell and she looked concerned. She dropped the spatula in her hand and rush over to me. She gathered me in a hug. I cried her apron that smelt of her perfume.

“Shh, baby. Tell me, did you have a vision?” I nodded. “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“No, I know the difference.” My mother is the only one who knows about my visions. She’s the only one. “There was a man. You were dusting on the stairs and he came and…” I started to cry again.

“Shh. It will be okay, alright? I’ll be okay. Don’t you worry about me.”

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Yes of course I will.” And I believed her.

I don’t know what the time was when I awoke. Time doesn’t exist here. Or it works differently.  I can never tell morning from noon from night. I just can’t tell. No matter the time it is dark and I can’t hardly see. No matter. It doesn’t matter.

I’m still hungry. I can eat a lot and still feel starved. I’m too thin. It’s not like before, no. Before I was a good thin. Now I’m skin and bones. My head always hurts from the constant hunger and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I curl up and hug my legs. It’s cold, also. I am lucky though, I have a blanket. It’s thin and unraveling, but it’s a blanket.

I’m considered a permanent resident here, marked as incurable. That means that I get a slightly smaller cell, or room as they like to call it. They always try to make things better than they really are. Oh, no. They’re not killers in their minds, but doctors. They help people, and it’s not their fault when they don’t survive. It’s our fault. Along with the larger cell, I get first dibs on the small amount of donations this hell hole gets, like the blanket. They’re mostly from families who still care or old ladies on death’s doorstep and feel they need to do good.

There’s only one other person who’s been here longer than I have. It’s a girl. Her name is Lucy Karens. She’s been here since she was eleven, and she’s eighteen now. Like me, she has an actual gift, or curse. Like me she is not crazy. Lucy can communicate through her mind, I can hear her thoughts and she can hear mine, but only if she listens. I was fourteen or fifteen when she first talked to me. She had heard about me in a workers thoughts and was impressed by my years. So she searched for me.

Scared me to death when I first heard her. I thought I had gone mental. She explained her gift, and we talked for a while. I found out that Lucy has brown hair and green eyes, and she is tall. We don’t talk a lot, maybe a few times since the first. The last was maybe weeks or months ago, I’m not sure. I could ask her the date or the time or the year, but I don’t want the answers.

It’s not unusual for the long periods of time in-between. I know that she doesn’t like to talk and neither do I. It’ll give us both headaches, but we do it to keep sane. Knowing that someone is there is always nice. We’ve both told each other our stories and we understand.

Lucy comes from a large family. She’s the third child of five children; Katrina, Albert, Lucy, Sarah, and Henry. At least, as far as she knows. Her mother was pregnant when she was taken away. She didn’t know she was giving her thoughts away. She wasn’t very practiced. Instead of talking aloud she would think and people finally noticed, landing her a spot here, for longer than the most.