DESCENDING INTO MADNESS

by Brown, Stacey Marie

  I continued to travel, the scenery never changing except for the toys dipping and rising in the sky. Some had so much sorrow they had fallen into the snow, burying themselves under the weight. Nothing but the same woeful song drummed at my chest. Their loneliness ripped tears from my eyes; my heart broke into pieces, and I crashed to the ground. I did not want to exist. The pain was too much to bear alone.

  Alone. Was I alone here?

  “Hello?” I whispered hoarsely, my muscles twitched with the weight of sorrow and fatigue. “Is anyone here?” I whimpered, my hands covering my face. “I’m lost.”

  Lost. The word seemed to trigger a feeling in me, once again harboring the notion I was searching for something. What was I looking for? A toy? A game?

  No. It was something else. I could feel it like butterfly wings in the back on my mind, hitting themselves against the barrier blocking my mind. Pushing against the wall blocking the image of what I was searching for, I grunted, feeling as if my claws were digging into my brain.

  I. Would. Remember.

  “Ahhhh!” I screamed as I continued to push, dig, and knock at the wall in my head.

  As though my head actually splintered, the sound of a loud crack ricocheted over my eardrum, jerking my chin up. All my pain fell away. All the fear and the sorrow. I blinked, gaping at the scenery in front of me.

  Curious and curiouser.

  Had the environment reformed, shifting into a different location? Had it always been this way? Did I just not remember?

  Glittering snow swathed the shallow ravine encompassing me. Ice frosted the hills in creamy swirls. The snow kissed the edge of a frozen oval lake, circling it like a frame and making it glint like encrusted diamonds. The solid water filled the entire bottom of the valley. A swirl of lacy fog hovered over the surface, creating an ethereal scene.

  Objects hung in the air over the lake, but I knew they weren’t toys. Square, oval, round—the closer I got, I realized they were mirrors.

  Old. New. Broken. Pristine. Large. Small.

  They were all a little different except they had the same silvery old frame that mimicked the snow around the lake, luminous and dazzling.

  I stepped out on the smooth ice, the strong draw to the center dictating my actions. My boots slid over the ice, cutting and curving me gracefully to the middle. All the mirrors pointed toward me.

  Spinning in a circle, I noticed how each mirror reflected the mist and snowy terrain, replicating the scene in the next and the next, along with never-ending images of me. I stared into the endless echoes, my head spinning with the dizzying effect. It created an infinity of time and space.

  Ceaseless eternity.

  No end and no beginning.

  The numerous copies of me showed me gasping for air. The more I was reproduced, the less of me was real or recognizable. Each imitation tore me more and more from myself, to the point I could not identify which was the girl in the mirror and which was the real me. If she even existed anymore.

  My vision blurred, whirling, dropping me on my butt with a whimper. The nothingness clawed at my head, wanting to take the last bit of me, stripping all sanity from me. My stomach lurched with bile, and I fell back on the ice, my eyes shutting. I was losing me. Panic crunched down on my airways, tears spilling out the corner of my eyes as I tried to hold on for dear life.

  “Once you give up your strict notion of practical and logical, the more you will understand,” a deep voice whispered, but I had no idea if it was inside or outside my head. The thought came out of nowhere. I had no tangible memory of it, but somehow I knew I heard it before.

  That voice…

  “Let go,” it spoke again. This time it sounded louder than my thoughts. “Alice…”

  The voice yanked my head up, and I stared into the glass. A large outline appeared in the mirrors, dark and shrouded. Moving closer.

  I sat up, glancing around me, trying to spot it, but nothing except the sparkling snow could be seen through the gaps of the mirrors.

  “Alice…” A husky whisper licked my ears, coming from everywhere and nowhere.

  The form continued to advance in the reflection as my head raked over my shoulders trying to locate the source. The murky figure moved near my image in the glass, but nothing was actually next to me.

  Blue eyes broke through the haze, a shape of a man’s face, wearing a top hat, stirring a gasp from my chest, heaving me to my feet. My body understood something my mind didn’t. I couldn’t recall knowing him, but at the same time he felt as familiar as the air I breathed. Like I found the something I was looking for.

  “Alice.” A hand stretched out of the mirrors. “Come. Let me show you all you are missing.”

  My brows furrowed with the desperate need to do exactly what he asked along with an unexplainable need to run. “Look… all that you lost.” He motioned behind him, the mist swirling into a scene of four people sitting round a table, laughing, and playing a board game. I recognize myself as one of them. A girl who looked younger, but very similar to me, threw up her arms, claiming victory. The older woman and man groaned playfully while I accused the woman of cheating, causing everyone to laugh.

  “Your family, Alice. Your absence has greatly affected them.”

  The scene changed in the reflection. It was the same room, but this time they cried and held each other. I was no longer part of the group. The ache at seeing them in pain trailed more tears down my face.

  Yes. They were my family. People I loved.

  “They are what you were looking for.” He motioned me to move toward him. “Step through and you will no longer feel alone or lost.”

  That sounded like heaven. The burden of sorrow and desolation of this place hurt every bone and muscle in my body. I wanted relief. I needed to find something.

  Maybe it was them.

  “Let go, Alice. Let the madness in…” His voice swathed my heart, wrapping it up with bliss, something I couldn’t get enough of. I didn’t just want—I needed more. “Once you let it in. Everything will be right again.”

  I nodded, my hand reaching for his. My fingers went through the glass like water, his hand wrapping around mine. A moan hummed in my chest at his touch, setting life back in my veins. He pulled me through.

  The moment I fully entered the glass, his hand disappeared from mine. Gray haze coiled around me. Panic exploded in my chest, a cry of help sticking in my throat as the fog covered my mouth.

  A woman’s wicked laugh echoed in my ears before everything went black.

  The world dropped away, and I plummeted.

  Down.

  Down a dark, dark hole.

  Chapter 31

  “Alice?” A knock thudded through the darkness of oblivion, stirring me from a deep sleep. “You awake?”

  Brightness swept across my lashes, my eyes opening to stare at the glaring light. Flinching back, the harsh light daggered my pupils, as if my eyes had no understanding of sunlight.

  The sunrays cut across my bed from the window, coloring my white bedspread like snowy peaks. My hand stretched out into the beams, warmth baking into my skin. Christmas cookies! It feels so good. Why does it seem it’s been ages since I’ve seen sun?

  I felt groggy, and my head seemed packed full of chunky cotton, like it was veiling me from my thoughts. It took me several moments to understand where I was. My dreams rested heavily on the cusp of my consciousness, just on the other side of the shroud, and if I reached for them, I’d push them over into a void.

  My gaze went over the familiar space.

  My room.

  On one wall were the doorway out and a dresser that had clothes strewn from the open drawers. A huge bay window with a window seat cluttered with piles of books was on the opposite wall. In front of me, on either side were two more doorways: a closet and a bathroom. A large desk with a sewing machine sat at one end. The cornflower blue wall was covered in hats and sketches of my designs. In the middle was an oval antique mirror; the encrusted frame glistened in t
he sunlight. Like flames in a fire, the jewels flickered and sparked. My eyes transfixed on the glittering frame, lost in their memorizing beauty.

  “Alice?” the girl’s voice called again, snapping me away from my trance. My door swung open, a figure bounding into the room, carrying a steaming mug. “Good. You’re up.”

  Dinah. Her name crushed against my vocals, my chest opening like a chasm, echoing the notion, “I’ve missed you so much.”

  “Finally awake? It’s past noon. Mom wanted me to check on you.” My sister set the cup on my nightstand, the smell of peppermint making my nose wrinkle.

  “You look a lot better.” Dinah’s brown eyes passed over me, assessing. She brushed a loose strand of hair off her flushed cheeks. She was dressed in a workout outfit, her hair tied back, noticeably coming back from a run. She and I looked alike, but her hair was more like our dad’s, light caramel brown, where mine was similar to mom’s, long, dark chocolate strands. Dinah kept hers long enough to put in a ponytail, but short enough not to have to deal with it. Practical. Like her.

  She was slightly shorter than me, and her A-type personality came out in the form of running every chance she could, leaving her without an ounce of fat on her body. I was thin and fit, but next to her I appeared much shapelier.

  “Last night I was sure I was going to have to take you to the hospital or something.” She plunked down on the bed next to me. “Gabe totally freaked me out.”

  I blinked at her. The rapid fire of her dialogue congealed the cotton clogging my mind. Why couldn’t I remember last night? Why did seeing her make me want to cry, like I hadn’t seen her in years?

  “Alice? You okay?” Her brows crinkled, lifting her palm to my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever anymore.”

  “What?” my throat finally croaked.

  “You were burning up last night. I was at Scott’s when Gabe called me.” Scott was Dinah’s boyfriend, and they had been dating since they were fifteen and talked about life like they were already married. “He was really worried about you. Didn’t like you driving home so sick. Thankfully, it seems it was just a twenty-four-hour bug.”

  “Sick?” I sat up, bundling the cover at my chest. All I wore was my underwear and bra.

  “Yeah? Don’t you remember? I came home, and you had torn off your costume and passed out face-first into your pillow, muttering nonsense to yourself about flames burning up your skin.” She motioned to the floor next to my bed.

  My gaze landed on my crumpled elf uniform and bell curved boots lumped in a pile. My first reaction was surprise to see they were there. Intact. They weren’t in shreds? Why would I think I ruined them? I rubbed at my head, trying to recall the night before.

  “Do you even remember driving home?” Dinah eyed me with a groan when I shook my head. “Yeah, that’s not scary. And in my car. Gabe said you were acting strange. He sent you home early. You really don’t remember? He said it was dead there anyway, but he was really concerned about you. That you were talking to yourself and acting a little crazy.”

  Crazy. The word made my head tilt like it was an arrow headed straight to my gut.

  I bit down on my lip, trying to stretch my mind back. A hazy recollection skimmed my head—Gabe and me at Santa’s cottage, which felt like weeks ago, not last night. Him telling me to go home, but that was where the memory ended. The rest was blank. I couldn’t recall one moment of getting into the car, driving home, or coming into the house.

  “Don’t tell Mom you don’t remember driving home.” Dinah shook her head. “She’s already freaking out about you being sick and the party tonight.”

  “Party tonight?” Fuck, why did I feel so out of it, like I had been drugged for a week?

  Dinah’s eyebrows crouched into a bundle. “You know… the Christmas party… we have every year. The one Mom has been planning since Halloween?”

  “Right.” I forced a smile, pretending it had slipped my mind. Carroll Liddell put on yearly holiday parties like it was her job in life. Similar to my sister, she was a planner and organizer, which helped in her everyday job as a librarian. She used to take Dinah and me with her to work a lot when we were children, where I went directly to the fantasy section, getting lost in worlds and adventures. Dinah preferred helping Mom put away books like it was some fun game.

  My father, Lewis Liddell, was a history teacher at the university and was the one who had the imagination. He would tell me epic tales of the past, taking me on journeys through time and space, full of drama, heartache, deception, espionage, battles, love, hate, and survival. I would sit wide-eyed listening to these stories wondering how anyone could think history was boring. No drama on TV could compare to what our history books were filled with.

  “Well, Mom wanted me to see if you were feeling better. She was going to make you your favorite—cinnamon sugar pancakes.”

  “No.” The word grunted out of me with a violent shake of my head.

  “No?” Dinah leaned back, giving me an odd look. “You are saying no to Mom’s pancakes?

  “Nothing sweet.” My mouth moved without even thinking why. “Eggs. Potatoes. Even steak. Anything but sugar.”

  “O-kay.” Dinah stood up, her mouth puckering in puzzlement. “Very unlike you… but okay.” She stepped toward the door. “I’m gonna jump in the shower. As much as you were sweating last night, it would probably be a good idea for you too. Seriously. You smell.” She winked, slipping out the door with a cheeky grin.

  She was barely seventeen but always acted older, needing to take care of illogical me. Poor Alice, her head always in the clouds.

  It frustrated me beyond belief. Just because I didn’t think the same as them, I couldn’t manage life. Okay, fair enough, I had done a lousy job of it so far, living far too much in the fantasy world, but something felt different in me. I had always somehow felt inferior because I wasn’t as “book smart” or logical as my sister. No more. I liked the way I was. And strangely, overnight, I felt I had become the right mix of dreamer and reasonable.

  I wouldn’t let them belittle me anymore. I was sure they weren’t even aware of the way they teased me, but it still put me down. They didn’t take me seriously. Like my hat shop. It was an idea they smiled at, but I knew they didn’t take me earnestly, nor did they think I really would do it. They thought my attention would flutter off to something else soon.

  My regard went to the wall where various hats I had designed and made hung on hooks. Slipping out of bed, ignoring the slight chill the late-morning air flicked over my skin, I padded to the wall. Reaching up, I touched one of my designs. It was a hat a woman would wear to a racing derby, sleek lines, wound with tulle and feathers. It was pretty, but none of them felt inspired.

  Every artist knows when the muse comes. You drop everything you’re doing and let it in. It was a finicky thing and could leave you just as fast, especially if it was ignored.

  More a feeling than exact ideas, my mind whirled with the need to draw. Creativity fringed the border of my thoughts, twitching my arms and chest with the raw energy.

  My butt hit the chair, my fingers wrapping around a pencil, the sketches coming out faster than my hand could move. Lost in each detail, trying different shapes and sizes, my hand ached as I tore through my sketchpad. My mind was lost in the moment, not even really understanding where the concepts were coming from. Another thing you didn’t do was question the muse. You let it do its thing until it was done with you. I felt possessed, skimming inspiration from dreams or my imagination, I didn’t know, but I could feel them there, trying to talk to me. To tell me something.

  I was frantic. The world became a blur around me.

  “Alice?” My name came from somewhere in the distance, my attention solely on what was in front of me. “Alice!” A hand came down on my arm, making me jump, my head wrenching up, confused. Time and space were concepts instead of reality.

  “Sweetheart…” My mother stared down at me, her shoulder-length dark brown hair pinned up on one
side in a beautiful holiday holly clip, red berries glistening off my bedroom light.

  “Evil bloodsucking assholes.” I wrinkled my nose at her barrette before I stopped myself. What the hell?

  “Pardon me?” Mom frowned, peering down at me as if I were an alien.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, having no idea where it came from.

  “I think you need a break. You’ve been sitting here all day.” Her frown deepened as her gaze went down my barely dressed body. “Why don’t you take a shower? The party will be starting in an hour.”

  “What?” My head jerked to the window. Night had long claimed the day, the streetlamp outside my window of our two-story house shone into my room. Where the hell had the day gone?

  My mind had still not cleared from my illness or my frenetic obsession with my designs. Cobwebs of dreams and feelings took me away from myself, creating a gap in time that twisted the hands of the clock.

  Mom’s frown deepened, her hand going to my forehead, she and my sister acting as though it were the answer to my strange behavior. “You sure you are feeling all right? You haven’t eaten a thing all day. You need a hot shower and food.”

  My stomach growled on cue hearing her and comprehending I was famished.

  “Your father and Dinah are dressed and downstairs. When you’re ready, come down and join us. People will be arriving shortly.” She smoothed down her knee-length silk dress.

  Red. The color of an apple.

  She used to have a figure like Dinah’s, but age had curved her body into a beautiful hourglass shape. She took care of herself, forcing my dad to speed walk with her every night—rain, sleet, or snow.

  “Sure,” I agreed, pinning a smile on my face.

  One brow winkled as she gave me a final inspection, her hand squeezing my arm. “You had us worried last night.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “All right.” She looked down at my drawings as she started to turn for the door, stopping. “Those are beautiful, Alice. Different from your others, though.”