Behind Sanity
Chapter Seven
1
Alice stood in the kitchen, alone and silent. She held her fingers to her lips in pondering, staring toward the smooth, tile countertop but looking right through it. The house was empty except for herself, since Wendy had left to walk Morgan home from school. Alice had been standing in the same spot for half an hour, simply thinking and gazing at her surroundings. The floor was cold through her stockings. She could see the red and yellow leaves falling from the tree outside the window with the white drapes. The counter top shined in a small ray of sun, but none of this lifted Alice. She was again without hope. Fingering her lips lightly, she let her eyes close and took a deep breath.
Why? That was the question traveling across her mind. Why had any of this happened? She had been fine for a while – just fine in the asylum – but now, as soon as she was free, she was slipping again? The worst thing about it all was that she had no idea how to deal with her own disease. She did not know how to help herself because she could not remember. There was a completely different world in existence, somewhere beyond her reach. She had been part of it once. It had deserted her.
“Wonderland…” she whispered, just to feel the word pass her lips. “Where are you now?”
Shuttering, she felt something wet against her lip. There had been nothing on her hand when she’d raised it there, and so the liquid sensation surprised her. Slowly, she drew her hand from her mouth, peering at it cautiously. It was unmistakable. Blood. Deep, red blood covered her fingers and made a small puddle in her palm. Somewhere in her mind she knew that the blood was not really there, but the sight of it had already gripped her heart. A tear began to well in her eye. The blood in her palm – the claw marks.
That night. That dreadful night…
“Dinah! What are you doing?” a ten-year-old Alice had questioned her beloved pet.
Darkness had settled in outside and Alice was about to turn in just as the rest of the town, when Dinah had pulled the drapery from the window. The blue material cascaded down and covered the troublesome feline, nearly giving Alice herself a heart attack when the rod had dashed the hard floor.
“You silly dear! Come here!” she scolded, but Dinah had just turned up her nose, as cats do, and ignored the tired girl.
Pulling herself up angrily, Alice had scooped up Dinah.
“I said to come over here and get in your bed!”
That was when Dinah had pulled her claws and sliced Alice’s skin across her hand. She winced and stared at the blood coming out, covering her fingers. The feline had dug in much too deep, but young Alice was far from tears. Dinah scampered out of Alice’s grasp and darted to safety under the bed.
“That’s it!” she yelled and pulled the cat out from her sanctuary by her tail, causing her to release a small mew and hold onto the floorboards for dear life. This still did not stop Alice from angrily tossing her out the bedroom door.
“You can sleep out here tonight!” she said, and left the cat staring at her with wide green eyes as she closed the door.
The fire had been caused by an overturned lantern. The incident had been the cat’s doing. Though unlit itself, oil from the lamp had spilled into the hearth and sent the house up in flames. A horrible night. What a horrible night that had been.
Alice, at the kitchen counter in her sister’s house, began giggling madly despite herself. It was her fault. Her fault! If she had not kicked the mischievous cat out of her room, the house would not have burned. If she had not lost her temper, her parents would still be with her and she wouldn’t have had to spend those awful years in that hellish asylum!
Her laughter turned to tears, and the droplets fell steadily now. She gripped the edge of the counter with white knuckles.
I am seeing these things because I am guilty, she thought, leaning over the clean tile and crying openly. It is my fault that they are dead! Their blood is on my hands! She looked down to her hands again, but she couldn’t see anything through the tears. I am being punished!
From the corner of her eye, she saw something gleaming. She wiped her eyes with one hand and reached for the gleaming object with the other, only to find herself staring at her own reflection in a large butcher’s knife. She laid the slender blade across her palm, its appearance watery through the tears.
I can’t take this pain, she thought. I must end this!
Putting the knife to her wrist, she stared at her veins, green through the skin. For a moment she thought she wouldn’t do it. Her sobs echoed off the pale walls. She stared at the knife tentatively and then moved it down her arm further from her wrist. Perhaps she shouldn’t slice at the vein right away. She could get the punishment she deserved before she sliced the veins and shed her own blood for the innocent blood of her parents. She took another deep breath to calm herself and began pushing the knife slowly to her skin.
“Aunt Alice?” came a voice.
Alice dropped the knife immediately, having not broken flesh, and turned around in one motion. She began vigorously wiping the tears from her face. Morgan stepped into the kitchen and her smile faded suddenly when she saw her distressed aunt.
“What’s wrong?” she asked innocently, her eyes full of sympathy for the unknown.
“Nothing,” Alice said through a short sob. “I have to go to my room. Excuse me, Morgan.”
Alice went up the stairs as fast as she could, her head pounding. In her room, she fell flat on the bed, sobbing into her pillow. She continued to cry unyieldingly until she fell asleep.
2
Alice awoke sometime during the night. She couldn’t see the clock on the wall because her eyes were matted together with the remnants of her tears. She breathed out, surprised that it was still uneasy. How long had she been asleep? It had been mid-afternoon when she’d closed herself up in her room, and despite a few coaxing visits Wendy had paid to her door, Alice had remained inside. She was not sure when she’d fallen asleep, only that she felt well-rested – and she hadn’t dreamed. She was grateful for that.
The woman tossed in her bed, her long thin gown twisting around her. Comfort had deserted her, and yet she did not wish to rise. How could she? There was no reason. Her aching eyes drifted to the picture near her bed. Her young self and her family. But the picture was all wrong, wasn’t it? The parents were gone, lost from this world. The older sister had moved on and had now made a different family. And the little girl was all alone. All alone…
Alice looked away, rolling onto her back and stretching her limbs. Perhaps she would just sleep on. Sleep forever. No that was not a good idea. If she went to sleep, she might have some terrible dream about a withering forest and a large hole in the ground – a large hole in the ground and a white rabbit and a pocket watch. Alice rolled again, facing the locked door.
Certainly she had determined that she could not sleep, and yet she could not stay awake. Her body felt weary, but her mind was manic. She turned again to face the ceiling.
What is that sound?
Alice lifted her head slightly, aiming toward the disturbance she heard. What was that? Quiet laughter?
The curious young woman got out of bed and slowly opened her door. Slipping quietly down the dark hall, she moved on toward the sound that seemed much less a figment of her imagination now. She didn’t know why she might have been surprised when the eerie noise led her to Morgan’s room.
The door was open a tiny crack and Alice peered in carefully, hoping to solve the mystery. Who was the child having such a fine time with?
The lantern lights were low, but there was enough faint light for Alice to see inside. Morgan was perched on her bed in her gown, wide awake. The white rabbit doll was propped up across from her, as if she was holding council. Oddly, it was not he whom she was addressing. He was not the one she was laughing with. She looked off into a blank area of space and she whispered to it; occasionally, she laughed at it as if it had told her a joke. Alice did not understand, but she remained silent at the door.
Morgan was quiet for several moments, as if listening intently to one who was speaking to her. Eventually, she began to reply. Alice strained to listen in on the one-sided conversation.
“You’ll have to slow down just a bit.”
The girl was quiet once again, pausing to let some unseen person speak again.
“Yes, I’m worried about her, too. She cried today, and she won’t come out of her room.”
More silence within. Alice furrowed her brow in confusion. A little girl in one of her games of imagination? No; that’s not what this felt like.
“I don’t really want to do that,” Morgan said quietly, picking at the hem of her gown. The pause that followed was very short.
“I want to help, but it sounds a bit scary. Actually, you’re a bit scary, too. I mean, I like you and everything… Did you hear something?”
“What are you doing?!” Tommy bellowed, slamming the door closed and making Alice jump back with wide eyes.
“I thought I heard something. I came to check on her,” she stammered.
“You’re up to something,” he accused coldly. “You do not check on her! I’m her father. That’s my job!”
“I have the right to be concerned…”
Alice’s defense did not seem to be working on the man who hated her. She focused suddenly on his scars, and she remembered what Robertson had told her. Those scars were there because of her, and she did not even remember it.
“She doesn’t need your concern,” Tommy insisted, unaware of her thoughts.
“So I can’t be allowed to protect my own family?”
“This is my family! And you do not belong to it!”
Alice clenched her fists at her sides and ground her teeth together. Flames rose before her eyes – flames that had devoured the whole of a large white house on a night that it had snowed. Her family had been inside that house, and they had not made it out. She’d not been able to protect them, but she swore she’d be lost in hell if she failed to protect her sister and her niece – even if it was from herself.
“I live here now too, Tom. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Done with him, she turned and stormed away. Once again, he did not follow.
3
Feeling heated and shaken, Tommy watched after Alice to make sure she went it back to her room. When she had disappeared behind the roughly closed door, he felt a bit more relaxed, pushing open Morgan’s door quietly to look in on his little girl.
With her head sliding off the pillow, she was sleeping like a baby.
4
In Alice’s room, she lay staring at the ceiling. How long she looked on, she did not know. Her declaration to Tommy earlier in the night seemed to be thinning like separated milk. I’m not going anywhere. How sure was she of that? If she hadn’t come, then Wendy and Tommy would still have a wonderful little family life with no Alice to screw it up. Tommy wouldn’t be so on edge, Wendy wouldn’t have to suffer, and everyone would be happy. Alice was the odd one out.
If Morgan hadn’t barged into the kitchen that afternoon, she would have killed herself, she realized. Maybe that was meant to tell her something, but more importantly on Alice’s mind was this: Who had Morgan been talking to in the quiet of her room? As much as Alice hated to admit it, she was becoming more afraid with each passing day. What horrible secret had she forgotten? Who was Dr. Robertson? What had he been trying to do by having them meet? What was she supposed to help him with? What about the stuffed rabbit? What about the smiling cat? What about the DRINK ME bottle? What about the secret voice? The forest scene and the large hole amidst the trees? Too many questions. Too many questions! She pulled her pillow over her head to shut out the sounds that she heard screaming in her ears.
There never really were any.
5
Waking up again that night, Alice arose to a faint mewing sound. She raised her head and found that Dinah was not beside her as she’d been when they’d both fallen asleep. The mewing continued softly, sounding shut away or muffled in some way. Had she shut Dinah away in the closet by accident? Funny… She didn’t remember opening it.
“Dinah?” Alice asked, quietly.
Looking around through the darkness, she couldn’t locate the kitten. She called again. This time, as she looked close to the floor, she caught sight of a pair of glowing eyes.
“There you are. Come here, kitty,” she said, making a hand movement near the floor.
Dinah graciously jumped onto the bed beside Alice, but sat uneasily. She kept her attention directed toward the closet. Another cat sound reached Alice’s ears.
“Dinah. Please, I am trying to get some… ”
Alice tilted her head and found herself staring right into Dinah’s shining eyes. Then, as she listened in the darkness, another mew was audible – but Dinah’s cat lips had not moved. Then another soft mew – then another. Dinah spat menacingly in distaste and jumped quickly from the bed and darted from the room with a screech. Alice tilted her head up more and peered around. All she could see was the darkness; no forms were visible.
How did another cat get into the house, she wondered. Or has Dinah become a ventriloquist?
As she continued to listen, the mewing sounds became louder. The cat’s volume grew, and the deepness and violence of his calling increased with every cry.
There was suddenly a long pause.
Alice could feel the silence booming in her head, but listen to it, she must. Slowly, she began to hear a low, rumbling chuckle. The sound echoed between her ears. Then she heard a voice as it, in a low, quiet tone, clearly stated: “Meow.”
It was not a cat sound; it was a clearly spoken word – the word “meow”, pronounced clearly and carefully. Alice’s mind filled with fright as the sounds of the laughter continued to haunt her.
“Who’s there?” she called aloud.
She pulled herself from the bed quickly, grabbing the antique candlestick stand from the table beside her, and waited for the voice to explain itself. There was a long silence, but finally it did.
“It’s me,” the smooth and barely audible voice said, “Alice.”
Alice shuttered. How dare this voice introduce himself as her!
“I’m Alice,” she corrected angrily, but received no reply. “Who are you? What are you doing in this house?”
She began to slowly approach the closet, trying not to make sound, all the while continuing to watch behind her as well. Was this the same voice that had whispered to her within the darkness of that junk room? She could not say, but she greatly wished to know who he thought he was. Reaching out to the knob, she began to hear the voice again. This time it was barely audible, even though she was right beside the door.
“That’s right. Come on,” it urged.
She thought for a moment about what she was about to do, then remembering she had almost killed herself that afternoon. She continued.
I might as well take the risk. I don’t care about myself anyway.
And with that thought, she opened the door.
There was nothing. She batted around inside the small space for a moment but there still was nothing. No one was there, and it didn’t look like anyone had been. She traced the entire frame of the closet, but it was indeed empty. Her mouth frowned in confusion, but nonetheless, she reached behind her for the knob. At the moment, something caught her eye.
An article of clothing hung from the rack, which was not unusual, but this particular garment had managed to grip her attention. She reached out for it and gave it a tug. It came off the rack easily into her hands and she threw it across the bed. She crossed to the lantern near the door and lit it quickly, replacing the glass over the top.
Surveying the room to insure that she was alone and finding herself satisfied, she walked to the bed and found herself staring down at a dress. It was long and blue with puffy sleeves and a pretty white apron tied on it. There was a dried daisy chain stuffed in a front pocket. Alice remembered this dress. The blue and white dress… It was as Robertson had said. Of course! She used to wear this! Her mother had made it for her when she was seven. She ran her hand across the material fondly, aware of a smile.
She had the sudden urge to put the dress on, but she knew she could no longer wear it. Instead, she picked it up and headed to the mirror on the wall and held the dress up in front of her. Examining herself carefully, something came to her. It was an image of a green field on the other side of the mirror. It was blurry, but she was reminded of another familiar notion. But as she looked on, the image cleared, and before she’d realized what had happened, she was inside the scene.
The field appeared before her eyes and a cool breeze whistled, blowing long locks in front of her face. She heard herself humming a song in a little girl’s voice. She looked down and saw the blue and white dress. She was making a daisy chain. Looking up, she saw Dinah, running after something in such a slow pace that no creature could have managed it in reality. Gravity would not have allowed it.
“Dinah, where are you going?” she called, and began following after her.
She ran and ran, following the cat until suddenly she stopped. There was a white rabbit there! She had seen such a creature before, but this one was most peculiar. It wore gloves and a coat and an elegant little top hat. It carried a pocket watch.
How curious!
“Oh, Mr. Rabbit!” she called, intrigued at the idea that a rabbit dressed so elegantly.
“I’m late!” he muttered to himself.
Alice continued to follow the rabbit, calling for him to wait but he kept on hopping away quickly.
“I’m late! I’m late!”
Finally, coming to a large rabbit hole, the white rabbit jumped inside and Alice was left alone. This didn’t last long however; her curiosity always did get the best of her. She took one look at the hole and jumped right in.
Everything was dark. Looking up, Alice saw a lovely garden and beautiful sky. But slowly, as she watched, everything began to wither. The trees turned black and all their lovely leaves fell to the ground. The rivers and streams ran dry and the ground was desolate. After a few moments, she could see several beasts of indescribable nature sauntering out of the trees. She looked down. Down at the dress. The blue dress with the white apron. Blood on the dress . Blood on the apron. Blood on her hands . Her blood? No. Not hers…
She looked around and saw herself sitting on the ground with something lying beside her, dead, no doubt. She could smell the stench. From there on, the images became too fuzzy to tell what had happened next. Then she opened her eyes and she was back in her room – the small, cramped room that smelled like mothballs.
But the walls. The walls were churning.
And so began her stomach. The room twisted around her and her mind boomed. She reached out and tried to find the bed, but couldn’t locate it for the spinning. A sudden jolt to her body and a gasp from her mouth responded with a loud thump as Alice collapsed on the floor, crumpling up the dress with her.
The stuffed rabbit peered over the bedside at her – button eyes empty.