But First, The Eyes

Darkness

Alice knew she was in darkness, complete. That was her one surety. She could feel the blackness seeping into her eyes—her mind. She could feel it toying with her sanity; it curled coyly around her picture of reality like an ancient trickster. It was tinging her memories with darkness...but Alice couldn't be completely sure that the darkness hadn't always been there.

Alice also knew she was at the bottom of a man-made hole. Her own personal hell-scape. From touch alone, she knew she was surrounded by bricks. They scratched the pads of her searching fingers and left wet residue when she pulled away. So, for the most part, she stood.

She was in a cell, and she was only moderately certain she would ever get out.

knew knew knew knew know know know

Alice shakily breathed in the humid air. He said 'good morning' when my tray was dropped off, she recited to herself. There's one more for the day. That's twenty-three 'good mornings,' so it's the afternoon of the twenty-third day. I am sane. I am fine. I am—

The stones above her head—out of reach—moaned with protest. Alice's head snapped up. It couldn't already be dinner, could it?

A tray bobbed as it was lowered with a pulley system. The first day, she had tested if the rope could hold her weight; it couldn't. It snapped. As the staff replaced the mechanics up top, a woman shouted down to her how she was a terrible, wretched girl. But at least she knew.

The tray jerked to a stop, right at Alice's arm-level. She quickly scooped up the tray and clutched it close.

"Good morning!" a voice called down. "I hope you eat up quick—you have a full-day today!"

That's twenty-four.

Alice's arms slackened.

No, no, no, that can't be right.

"Good morning?" her voice cracked.

"Indeed!" the deep, chipper voice said. "The beginning of the day. Now, take a bite. You don't want cold food waiting for you before your appointment."

The stone slid back, cloaking her in darkness once more. Appointment? Shakily, she brought a piece of bread to her mouth.

It tasted of tears.

—

They came for her swiftly. Alice had only shoved aside her tray moments before the stone shuttered open. Light spilled onto her face. She blinked.

Above her, there were two bulky figures. There was a gruff sigh as one of the orderlies took in Alice. "Why do they always cry?" he muttered.

His voice was loud enough to carry down to Alice. She assumed it was intended as such.

He squared his shoulders. "Come here, sweetie," he said, before dropping into the hole beside her. His shoes hit the stone floor with a rough crack.

Alice squirmed away, pleading—crying out—but the orderly's hands were quick and iron-willed. She lashed out with her nails, drawing blood from beneath his eye.

He hissed, snapping her arms behind her back. 

Alice felt her joints screaming. 

But then the orderly stopped. His muscles corded taunt and, no matter how she jerked her body, Alice couldn't budge him. He smelled deeply of sweat and cinnamon.

She was too preoccupied to notice that the second man had come down.

There was a jab, sharp and warm like a hornet's sting, in her neck. Alice's eye's flew wildly to her side; the second man—the calmer, more calculating man—had a needle buried in her.

He pulled back his lips as if he were offering a smile to comfort her.

"We have an appointment for you."

—

Alice welcomed the darkness back like an old friend. She waved to it, laughing. Thank you, she said. Thank you for being here.

And the darkness hugged her.

—

The rest came in snatches.

A hallway. Green, peeling paint. Leather. Metal.

Pain.

Alice felt her back arch with her screams. But, funnily enough, she wasn't in the bed! She was watching someone—a slim, dark haired girl like herself—screaming! She was warm and safe and held like the lover of darkness. The girl—the screaming girl—couldn't be her.

But Alice felt warm all over like she was.

Her stomach clutched and retched like she was the girl strapped into the machine. Like her hair was the hair matted with sweat and tears and shoved haphazardly underneath a piece of leather. Like her brain was within the head that was being heated and baked and shocked. But it couldn't be her, the darkness cooed. It couldn't.

And then the girl was still. Her pulse was her own. Together, Alice and the girl shuttered out a sighed.

The burly orderly left. The small one stayed behind.

He came closer to the girl.

He sniffed.

And grinned.

"You're a singer, sweet girl," he said. His breath was warm against her cheek. The darkness hugged Alice closer, drew her away. "You don't know your potential."

know know know

"I've been watching you," he breathed. "You talk in your sleep, you know. About a dark-haired girl with large, brown eyes. You tell her she's special." He snorted. "It's quaint, really." His voice was even; there was no stress present. No fear.

The girl's heart hammered. She knew fear.

knew knew knew

The man cleared his throat.

"You're aware of more than most," he said. "And you could know so much more." He circled to her other side. Alice couldn't keep up. The girl was talking in her sleep?

know know know

"You can see, Alice."

Her name was a whiplash, jerking the girl and Alice back to one vantage point, to one body. Alice could suddenly feel the girl's —her—rolling shutters clearly. Her head pounded rhythmically, and her entirety ached. The darkness unfurled from her grasp. Only her fingertips could reach it.

But still, they touched.

"Why," Alice croaked, searching his face. There was nothing there but cruel blankness. Her words caught on the roughness of her throat. They stung.

The man leaned back and Alice could get a better look at his long, blond hair. His sharp, pale face. His bloodshot eyes. There was apprehension in her chest as she looked up at him. Her nausea crept back.

"Why?" he echoed. "For the same reason any of us act in life." He grinned once more, his thin lips revealing opalescent canines. "Why, Alice, I can use you."

Alice gasped, pain radiation through her like a current. Alice tried to separate herself from the girl; she yanked and pulled, but nothing worked. She was stuck and burning, burning, burning, and the darkness was slow to come. In fact, it seemed to stand back and watch, pitying.

Everything was red.

No no no no

"Don't worry, sweet girl," the man said. He wiped the burgundy drip from his chin. It stained. "You'll find your special girl soon enough."

Alice gagged as the world grew painfully bright—and then brighter. The smell of the room suddenly assaulted her; the stench of what came from human fear encompassed her senses. She tried to shove the image of large, umber eyes out of her head, but they had become a refuge. The buoy in a sea of searing. So she grasped them.

And then darkness bid her hello again.