by Zoe Blake
“There was a Christmas party tonight.” I sighed, certain I had made a foolish decision by taking the gown. My parents would never let me out of my room now. “I was to go, but... Mama changed her mind.”
Eyes glowing yellow, smirk earnest, the Hatter tapped his fingers upon his chin. “Turn around. Let me get a good look at you.”
If he were to stay where he was, I’d let him look at whatever he wanted. One pirouette, then I smiled, fluttered my eyelashes as my mother had taught me, and gave a curtsey. “Do you really think I look fine?”
“You’re grown up, Alice. Already of age. The time does fly, doesn’t it.”
The complement set my cheeks to aching, my grin was so large. “I was to have ice-cream and dance with the young men. They are down there now...” my smile faded, and again I felt utterly left out. “I’m never going to get to grow up.”
Spreading his hands before him, the Hatter offered an extended bow, going so far as to whip off his hat and flourish it to the side. “May I have this dance?”
Who would ever know that I’d had my fun? Settling my fingers into his cold palm, for a split second, I did not care if he smeared dust on my dress. At least he was kind to me.
He looked at our conjoined hands and seemed unreservedly taken. Speaking as if in wonder, he muttered, “It’s the first time you’ve ever touched my hand. Now yours is mine to hold when I will.”
Before I could reply, he yanked me forward and set an arm to my waist. Flailing our arms in a ridiculous fashion as he hummed bars of silly music and had me laughing so hard, I failed to notice his other long-fingered palm dirtied the velvet sash at my waist. We caterwauled, hopped to and fro, and masqueraded as king and queen of our very own wonderland. Once I was breathless and dizzy, he spun us to the table. The Hatter plopped down in the low chair so quickly that I fell after him.
He caught me before my face might meet the floor, and propped my flailing person at once upon his boney knee.
Yellow teeth on display his grin was so large, his dusty voice rumbled low and scratchy. “Now look at this, sweet Alice. First your hand, and now you sit upon my lap. For that you must have a treat.”
Jostled by the repeated twitch of his thigh, I thought of the rare times my father had bounced me on his knee. Now, I was too big for such baby games. Ladies sat in their own chair; they were prim and proper, not oddly balanced on a bumping leg.
Flustered, I fanned at my face and moved to stand. The Hatter took my hand, pulling me right back down to his lap so hard I omphed.
He chatted, ignoring my squirming, and reached for something past me on the table. “You mentioned ice cream? Do you want something sweet on your tongue?”
It was then I finally noticed the state of what had once been a beautiful gown. Smeared and dusty, the blue had grown dull. It was a mess. “You’re getting dirt all over my dress, sir.”
Tutting, the Hatter jostled me once more. “I could undo the buttons at your back. Take it off if you think it more important than I.”
His suggestion wasn’t a terrible idea, but I didn’t want his dirty hands, the caked grit under his fingernails black, making the satin covered buttons as foul as his shirt. “What do you do to get so dirty each day?”
Pulling a face, the Hatter, pouted. “These are my finest garments.”
“So they are.” I giggled. “But as dusty as the grave.”
Wagging a finger in my face, he teased, “We have to put the bodies somewhere... if I left them out, everything would start to smell.”
Silliness was my favorite conduct he might grace me with, and I smiled. “I just remembered, I prepared a Christmas present for you.” I leapt from his lap before he might catch me, and ran to my bureau drawer. Rummaging through, I found my hidden prize and pranced back to the table. Taking my seat, I put a hand stitched drawstring bag between us.
I had made it myself, just for him.
“It’s been some years since I’ve had any to give you, but I traded the tailor’s little boy for two of his.” Scooting the parcel forward, I smiled at the blue satin bow and how clever I was. “I know how much you like them.”
Cocking a brow, wrinkles pinched on his forehead, the man at my table refused the gift. “Why would I want his teeth?”
“What?” No, that could not be right. I had procured them so faithfully just for him. Even the blue velvet ribbon I had pilfered from the dressmaker to make the present pretty. “But... you were happy when I gave you mine.”
Frown deepening, his eyes narrowed and our games were at an end. “But these aren’t yours. You’ve even washed the blood away. I want things from you that I take or shove in. I want them warm from your body and wet with your juices.”
The Hatter’s rejection of my gift had hurt my feelings, more importantly, his wacky ramblings had gone over my head.
I’d had enough discord for the day. I decided to ignore the whole thing, lifting up my sad, broken tea pot, I pretended all was easy between us and poured a serving in my friend’s waiting cup. “One lump or two?”
“Take off the dress, Alice. You want to be grown up. It’s been long enough. Give me that instead of old teeth.”
Eyes glued to the table, I reached for the sugar and asked, again, “One lump or two.”
“Two.” The word was growled, despoiled in anger... and sounding oddly far away.
I had misjudged the level of his temper, for though the Hatter had threatened such a recourse in the past, he’d never followed through. That was how they were able to get me so easily. Before I might defend myself, one had me by the hair, the other barging forward to send all three of us crashing to the floor.
The boys, the horrible twins, had crept from some dark corner, and my friend, my Hatter, had abandoned me to make way for them.
Blue silk, rich velvet, all of it was torn to pieces. That was their game that night. By morning it looked as if the blossoms of a cherry tree had fallen to scatter all over my floor, my furnishings, the fragments of silk too numerous to be gathered up and hidden before my nanny might come.
By noon, the entire household heard about what I had done to the dress.
A little rough for wear considering the previous evening’s festivities, my father was the one to attend to my punishment. He took the strap to me himself. He called me a disgrace.
It had been a long time since I’d cried so hard.
Chapter Five
“It cannot be allowed to continue any more. We have tried and tried, but there is no correcting her.”
Ear pressed to the door, I listened to my mother’s complaints, on my father’s harrumphing, and on a stranger’s opinions on why I must be sent away.
“I have no doubt that your Alice can be made well. She’s not the first young lady exhibiting this level of hysterics. My asylum is just the place to set her right.”
“If word were ever to get out that we had her committed, it would ruin us.” My mother sniffed and I knew she was crying, but not for me. She was weeping for herself. “The shame would be unbearable.”
“Rothfield Asylum is secluded in the country. We pride ourselves on the rigorous application of privacy for both our patients and their families.” The man spoke with confidence, eloquent and genuine. “Many families choose to tell friends and connections that their loved one is away on holiday... Italy, Spain, France. You may decide that for yourselves. A few months, maybe a year in my care, and she will be returned to you in glowing health. It will appear as if she’s summered in the continent.”
The terms in which the stranger spoke were beyond my comprehension. I had never heard of an asylum or hysterics, all I could glean was that my parents wanted to send me away. Even suffering immense hurt at the idea of it, a part of me could not imagine that anywhere could be worse than where I already was.
Except that I would be even more alone.
It had been three months since the dress incident. But, it had been years since a member of the household was pleased with my presence.
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br /> I was the walking condemned. I hardly spoke, I rarely ate, and I could not recall the last time I’d shut my eyes to find sleep.
Since he’d rejected my gift, only once had I been visited by the Hatter. Before my parents had considered casting me off, he had abandoned me first. Without his presence, I knew no peace at night. It made me resent him, hate him, for letting me believe he had ever been my friend.
The things that came in his place... It was no longer just the foul twins, the Red Queen, and the laughing man. There were others, a fresh hell each night.
There was not a piece of furniture in my room that was not splintered, or a wall that was unmarked by my scraping fingernails when I tried to flee. The sprigged wallpaper that had once been so pretty, was in tatters. My mattress was now kept on the floor, stinking of old urine... and spattered blood.
“I cannot comment on her level of treatment until I might observe the patient myself. Do send her in.”
My father was the one to fetch me, his red face warning that I was to behave before his guest. He led me into the dayroom by a grip on my shoulder and stood me before a grey-haired stranger.
Blue eyes cast to the rug, I stared unblinking at the polished shoes of the one they wanted to give me to.
He set his hands to his knees and leaned forward. “She is a pretty thing.”
It was expected for me to softly smile at the compliment. I did so robotically. “Thank you, sir.”
“Look at me, Alice.”
Older than my father, but more sturdy by half, sat a well-dressed man with grey hair and thick sideburns. Tidy hair oiled back, he smelled of cigars and rosewater. I met his eyes, uncomfortable with the practice, and tried to keep my fingers from fidgeting in my skirts.
“Very pretty indeed, but why is she dressed like a child?”
My father’s disgust at having to speak on such topics was obvious. “So long as she behaves as a child, she will be treated as one.”
The old stranger addressed me directly. “Do you want to wear stylish clothing and be presented to society, Alice? Is that something you look forward to?”
“Yes, sir.” I wanted that more than anything. A true smile, one born of hope came to my lips as I glanced to where my mother sat. “And to wear my hair up like Mama.”
My mother cleared her throat, pretty blue eyes whirring about the dayroom, landing on anything but me. “She may behave in childish ways, Sir Rothfield, but Alice is accomplished with the harp. Her penmanship is flawless. We have done all we could to craft the girl into a lady in preparation of her coming out.”
The stranger kept his brown eyes upon me, measuring something I could not grasp, but spoke to my parents. “Has she ever grown violent? Has your daughter harmed the staff or struck one of you?”
At this, my mother seemed unsure how to answer. She shook her head, but frowned. “No. Alice is meek. It’s herself she harms, wreaks havoc upon her room, her clothing, her furnishings.” Softness left her voice and she barked, her face sour. “Show him your arms, girl.”
Turning my wrists upward, I lifted my sleeves. Forearms gnawed with teeth marks, marked with scratches, were pale and mottled in bruises.
“It’s a wonder she has all her fingernails today. The girl is usually missing at least one. She bites them down to nubs.”
The old man leaned forward, perusing the map of injuries on my forearm. “Yet still finds a way to scratch herself? Singular. When she is in these fits, is her demeanor much changed?”
My mother was at a loss for words, her explanation half-formed. “You see, ummm, she waits until alone. We’ve never seen...”
“And who is charged to watch her in the evening hours?”
“She is locked away to keep her mischief contained. Her nanny sleeps in the room beside her, and has never once heard a thing. It’s deviousness on Alice’s part, she plots, then blames her destruction on phantasms.”
Bushy brow lifting in my direction, the stranger prodded me for an explanation. “Is this true, Alice?”
I had not been exposed to a new person in ages, and somewhere under my silence and melancholy, a horrible screw of hope twisted around and around. Foolishly, I sought help. “It is not I, sir. It’s the ones the rabbit brings. They torment me night after night.”
Eyes narrowing in thought, the man hummed to himself. “Delusions... self-harm... paranoia... general hysterics.”
My father finally added to the conversation. “Can you set her right?”
“Of course!” Jovial, a smile was offered to my father, and the stranger even let his eyes twinkle in my mother’s direction. “Tell me, has Alice begun her monthly courses?”
My face must have grown as red as a beetroot.
“Five years now.” Even my mother was uncomfortable with such forthright talk to a male. “It is a very upsetting time.” Lowering her voice as if another might hear the terrible thing my mother was about to confess, she whispered, “She claimed that some bloody woman was pulling things out of her. At night, Alice refuses to attend to it and bleeds all over the bed, her clothing.”
That was a half-truth. That was not what I had said to my mother the first time I had found blood on my sheets. And I only bled freely when my courses came unexpected and I was unable to creep from my bed. For every evening my womb cramped, I could rely on a very specific guest: the Red Queen.
Tirelessly she’d circle my bed, and then the day the blood had ceased, poof, another would appear. Last night, the Hatter had come instead. I had not seen him since he set the boys on me at Christmas, and found him stalking the floor in the same manner of the naked bloody woman.
I’d wanted to think he’d come to make peace with me. I’d missed him.
Disapproving, cutting me a sideways glare, he’d hissed, “Stand up and let me get a look at you.”
I was self-conscious to do it, afraid small dots of remnant blood may have marked my night rail, or that he would find fault in the state of my face as my mother had only that morning. My hair was still golden, and it was long and full, but the rest of me was far less glorious. Wan, dark circles under my eyes and bruises on my face, I was unpretty. I had grown taller, the baby softness of my cheek gone, and my limbs felt lanky and awkward. “We have not shared tea in quite some time, sir.”
He ignored my cheek and my bitterness, yellow eyes running over my form from toes to crown. “Your gown is ripped and worn. Half the lace is spoiled. Do I not deserve better?”
Everything he claimed was true. My night clothes were tattered, my ankles on display because the skirt was too short. “I am not to enjoy new things until I cease ruining what I have already been given. But I am not the one who spoils them. The horrid boys always grab at—.”
The Hatter stopped abruptly and spun to stand over me. “But, you’ve let the Red Queen touch you... we all know it! You let her slide her slimy hands around your throat.”
I vehemently disagreed. “That is not true! Only the boys wring my neck. It is them I have to thank for this bruise under my eye.”
The weight of the Hatter’s disapproval sat on me like a pile of rocks. There was something disgusting in his voice, something very bad. “Lies. I can smell the blood from here.”
I knew what he spoke of, and it had nothing to do with the one he called Red Queen. Cheeks flaming, I set my mouth into a stiff frown.
“You stink of her!” He’d spoken with venom, spittle flying from his lips. “What value is there in devouring a child’s innocence when you are not a child anymore? If you are going to bleed, it should be because I made you bleed. After all the years of my attention, all I have done to mold you. How dare you give her what is mine!”
I had no idea what it was he alluded to. All I knew, was that when he got in these tempers he was far more terrifying than the rest of them combined. I crossed my arms over my chest. Above them bulged a roundness the flopping, unstarched ruffles had hidden until I’d pulled them tight.
I saw yellow eyes dart to the swells, and dropped my
arms before he might see.
“What do you have there, Alice? I thought you claimed you’d never grow up.”
Swallowing, I looked away, embarrassed to my core.
“There are such worse things I can send your way than two vicious brats. Do you seek the attentions of the others? Shall I allow the Madman of Cheshire to rise from that chair and carry out what he dreams of doing to you? Continue to refuse me, sweet Alice, and you have no idea what nightmares I can release from the pit.”
Eyes wet with unshed tears, I felt my lip quiver. “You’re my only friend, but you never visit me anymore. Now that you’ve come, you’re cross.”
In a snap, he was cooing, all sweet smiles and soft looks. “Dear Alice, every night should be ours, I agree. It pleases me to know you long for my attention. Take my hand now, let me kiss your mouth, then I shall pour our tea.”
The Hatter had already snatched at my fingers, toying with them and weaving his boney knuckles with mine until our hands were fully united. I stood ramrod, not even so much as blinking. The only way he might reach my cheek was to bend at the waist, his yellow teeth displayed by a full grin. He had kissed me before, often and with great enthusiasm, but that night was the first time I had an inkling of what he thought to accomplish by pressing his mouth to the corner of mine.
He wanted me to turn my head... he’d said kiss my mouth. Without my participation, unless I offered, he couldn’t do what he desired and it irked him. That was why he asked, why he tricked. My hands he could handle at his whim, the left side of my waist available to trill his fingers upon since the night I’d let him waltz me ‘round the room.
In that moment I grasped, there were rules to this game. The Red Queen could not approach so long as I stared at her. The Laughing Man could do nothing but drive me mad with noise. The boys could pinch, bite, and scratch me... but that was all they could do. My moment of clarity may have come with the wisdom of greater age, but I saw through the Hatter’s smiles and gentle coaxing, muttering, “You cannot touch me without my permission...”