2
I woke up in a bed, but it wasn’t mine. Blinking hard, I tried to remember what happened after I fell in. Closing my eyes, I could almost feel the rush of wind as I fell while tea cups and jam jars floated around, but those shouldn’t be in a hole at all. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me, I rationalized. Slowly, I sat up and raked my eyes over the room; nothing, but an emotionless, white stared back although the blanket that rested in my lap was a calming green. Gripping it tightly, I pulled it off and examined myself; scrapes and bruises covered my body, but I was relieved to see that I was still in my clothes even if they were slightly torn. Glancing around once more, my eyes glanced at the window beside me; the sun was slowly beginning to rise, shining a light on the forest outside. The trees were twisted in odd shapes while the flowers glittered with dew and gently swayed.
“What did I do to myself?” I murmured. “And where am I?”
As I began to think, I overheard a conversation happening downstairs. My curiosity getting the better of me, I carefully moved out of the bed and pressed my ear against the door. “Bloody hell, Jack! You were supposed to bring her back in mint condition,” someone yelled, “but, no, you bring her back in cuts and bruises!”
“I didn’t mean to do that! She fell in!” the other, Jack, pleaded.
Jack chased me, I noted. At least I have a name to tell the police.
“If you hadn’t scared the living daylights out of her, she wouldn’t have fallen!”
“I’m sorry.”
“This is why you never send a rabbit to do a hatter’s work!”
That’s an odd sort of saying; hopefully they’re not too crazy. Then I quietly made my way towards the window, where the sun was still rising over the horizon. Glancing down, I found out that the two story drop would cause me to land on a flowering hedge. Looking around the room, I found my Doc Martens hidden under the bed although my jacket was nowhere to be seen along with my cell phone. Hurriedly, I tied them up and scurried over to the window. Gulping down fear, I opened the window and perched myself on the windowsill, preparing for the jump.
Suddenly, the door opened, revealing a silver haired boy. His sudden presence startled me and I lost my grip on the windowsill, now falling down to the dirt ground. Closing my eyes, I covered my head with my arms and waited for impact. Air whistled through my ears then an audible oomph sounded. The feeling of warm arms holding me made me open my eyes. A pair of shocking, crimson orbs stared right back.
“Are you okay?” the boy inquired.
I screamed and clawed at his face, causing him to drop me as he clutched his wound. This was my chance. I began to run down the dirt path, but was tackled to the ground moments later. A scream ripped out of my mouth. The red eyed boy held me down, a sympathetic look in his eyes this time.
“Calm down,” he whispered, pinning my arms to the ground. “We’re not going to harm you.”
“How can I trust you?” I replied, trying not to sob. “You brought me here!”
“Because in my current situation, I need you,” he responded. “We need you.”
“We?” I echoed.
He nodded and glanced back at the white house. Following his gaze, I noticed the silver haired boy watching us from a window before he walked away. “I’m going to let go now,” the boy began, “and if you try to escape, I’ll do something I’ll regret.”
I nodded, gulping down nervousness. He slowly let go of my arms and stood up, offering his hand to assist me. Hesitant, I stared him down; his platinum blonde hair was ruffled up and a crooked smile was placed on his face. He would have looked harmless if it weren’t for the scratch mark on his cheek; I smiled inwardly as I rose from the ground. Dusting dirt off, I walked with him back towards the house.
As we entered the living room, the silver haired boy was resting on the couch and holding a leather bound book in one hand. His obsidian eyes bored into mine before I broke away to examine the minimalistic room. Then the blonde motioned to a seat, but I continued to stand, feeling defiant.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I demanded, glaring.
“Everything will be answered later,” the silver haired one answered, “but first, introductions.”
“Jack Lepus,” the blonde began.
“Maddy Hatshire.”
“Who do you take me for? A fool?” I hissed. “Those are the most random names ever.”
“No, Alice Nightray, we don’t,” Maddy replied. “You see, we realize you’re smart, but we’re very non-threatening.”
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“We know a lot of things,” Maddy began, “but as I said earlier, everything shall be explained later.”
“Alice, we’d like to ask you some questions,” Jack said.
Maddy nodded, his smile getting broader. “Jack, get us some tea,” Maddy commanded. Jack left with no hesitation, disappearing behind a white door. I glanced back at Maddy and prepared myself for the questions, clenching my jaw.
“Okay, let’s begin,” Maddy beamed. “What are your parents’ names?”
“I thought you knew a lot of things,” I answered, now leaning against the arm chair.
“True,” he murmured with a gleam in his eyes, “but I just want to clarify.”
“Fine, Jane and Philip Nightray.”
He asked no further questions, which left us to sit in silence until Jack appeared with a tea tray in his hands although he quickly retreated back into the kitchen. Then feeling fatigue start to seep into my bones, I nestled into the armchair and stared at the silver teapot. Maddy poured two cups and pushed a purple cup towards me, but I merely inspected him as he took a sip. Unlike Jack, he was messier with his hair in disarray and his black tie askew. He took another sip of tea before smiling, revealing a dimple.
“It’s not poisonous,” he commented, “and you look like you need a good cup of tea.”
“Drink mine then,” I suggested.
“Whatever floats your boat.”
After adding milk and sugar, I slid the cup towards him. Still smiling, he gingerly took it and held my gaze as he took a gulp. He slid the cup back and motioned towards the plate of tarts. When my stomach rumbled, I grabbed a tart and began to eat, savoring the flavor. Then I picked up the cup and took a sip, letting the warmness of the drink flow through my body; I let out a sigh of content. I nestled deeper into the plush armchair while he fiddled with the book. Then he broke the silence.
“Could you tell me about your father?”
“I can’t tell you much,” I shrugged. “He sort of…disappeared out of my life.”
“I’m sure you remember something.”
“I remember him reading me stories,” I murmured, gripping the cup tighter, “and playing the piano. Sometimes, he would play chess with me.”
“Seems like a nice man.”
“Would a nice man just desert his–”
“And that is where I’ll stop you,” Maddy interrupted, slamming the book on the table. “Now, I want you open this book.” With hesitant hands, I grabbed the book and opened it. A yellowing newspaper article stared back at me along with a picture of a familiar looking man, beaten and teary eyed.
“That’s your father,” Maddy stated.
I stared longer at the picture before looking up to meet his gaze. Shaking my head, I replied, “No, it’s not.”
“Alice–”
“This Alistair Curieux is not my father,” I hissed, pointing at the photograph. “My father has blonde hair and blue eyes. Also, his nose isn’t so pointed!”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Have you ever heard of a disguise?”
“Yes, but–”
With a quick hand, he withdrew a folded paper from his pants’ pocket and slid it in front of me. “This is what you believe your father looks like,” he informed. “I want you to compare the two.”
Unfolding the paper, a picture of my father stared up at me and I put the two photographs side by side. I couldn’t deny it; both had the exact face shape and strong jaw line, but it was the fact that each had the same, unyielding gleam that only my father possessed.
“Where do you think you got that weird eye color of yours from?” Maddy inquired.
“My father said it was a recessive trait,” I murmured.
He let out a short laugh. “Recessive? That’s the most dominant gene your father could give you!”
My head began to spin and quietly I asked, “So..my father..he’s alive?
“He’s alive although we don’t know exactly where he is.”
“Have you looked?”
“That’s a given.”
Absentmindedly, I ran a hand through my black hair and felt something sticky. Upon closer inspection, beads of red dotted my hand. Feeling woozy, I gulped down the rest of the tea, trying to calm my nerves. After setting both the teacup and book back onto the table, I stared at Maddy, who held my gaze.
“You should go upstairs and clean up,” he suggested, gesturing towards the staircase.
Still feeling hazy, I slowly made my way up the stairs while my mind screamed in protest. Escape you idiot! But the prospect of a nice shower felt good. “There are some clothes in the dresser,” Maddy called out, “and brunch will be ready soon! Also,” he added, “don’t fall out of any windows!”
At that comment, I smiled a bit and peered down the hallway, guessing which room was mine. Seeing the door to my left was open, I peered inside and noticed the open window. Quickly, I locked the door and the window before rummaging through the dresser until finding a plain, blue shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Hurrying into the bathroom, I locked the door and dumped the clothes into the sink before stripping myself and stepping into the hot shower.
The water managed to release the built up tension in my body while I picked out a few stray leaves from my hair. After the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body and wiped away the condensation from the mirror. A hollow looking girl stared back at me; her indigo eyes were glazed over while dark circles rested under them. Bruises and a few scrapes covered my pasty skin. I brushed wet locks of black hair from my forehead before slipping into the clothes; surprisingly, they fit like a glove. Quietly, I dried my hair and threw my old, tattered clothes into the waste bin.
After I exited the bathroom, I tossed my shoes onto the floor. Silently, I pulled on a pair of new socks and tied up the shoes. My mind raced with the idea of escaping, of going home yet I merely stood in front of the window while my heart swelled up in my chest. I’m sorry, Mom.
“Alice?” Jack piped in.
Flinching, I whirled around to stare at him. He was positioned in the doorway with his lanky arms crossed over his chest and a suspicious look on his angular face. He cocked a pale eyebrow, questioning me.
“But I locked it,” I murmured.
“And I have a key,” he retorted, smiling. “Also, brunch is ready.”
“Oh, thank you,” I replied. “Um...what happened to my coat and bag?”
“We got rid of them.” He made a move to go, but he stopped himself to glance at me. “Please don’t try to escape again because it won’t work.”
“I won’t, but could you tell me where we are?”
He paused a moment to consider my question. Then a small smirk crossed his lips. “It’s a secret,” he answered. And with that, he closed the door.