Page 15 of Madness

I thump my foot three times on the grass top, just to the left of a wide rabbit’s burrow.

“Finally!”Thatcher appears, his nose twitching in annoyance because of my late arrival.

I plop down next to him, pulling off the beanie that covers my wild red hair, and breathe in deep as the wind ruffles the strands at the base of my neck.

“You’re late!”he scolds.

“Am sorry. Hare wis having a bad day,” I tell the white rabbit, who was one of my first friends when I was put here.

“He’s been having a mighty lot of them. Why?”

“We do not know.” I sigh. I hate seeing Hare regressing into his mind, and I understand enough from spending time with Abe, the resident psychologist, that it’s Hare’s mind trying to protect itself from something- the question is, from what?

“So, how is the red squirrel? Duke, was it?” I ask Thatcher.

His small white body hops around the grass in front of me. The bond we’ve built in the ten years I’ve been here allows him to feel safe enough with me to exit his burrow. The guards employed here can be cruel to the wildlife that roam the woods surrounding us, and I watch them as they monitor us all, ensuring they don’t approach.

“He’s ok. There’s a grey squirrel who is trying to take his acorns, but we rally around him in his time of need,”Thatcher says.

His ears perk up, and he balances on his hind legs. I look around the large expanse of grass, “What is it?” I ask.

Worrying that it’s a guard, I scan the outdoor area, searching for the reason for his sudden alertness.

“I do not know,”he says.

I see Al walking towards us both, and I relax. My sigh of relief is enough for Thatcher to know it’s not a threat.

Doris runs along at his feet, and I worry for a moment that he will step on her.

“Who is this?”Thatcher asks, hopping closer to where I sit.

Thatcher doesn’t do well with strangers, and he is scared that they will hurt him because he does not look like the other rabbits around here. His distinctive appearance makes him stand out, and the stark white coat is only helpful during the winter months. This is why we became such good friends.

“Alice, but not thee Alice,” I say to Thatcher.

Al tilts his head, confused, “I am not thee, Alice. I am not Alice. I am Al.”

“Do yi want to sit?” I ask Al, not wanting him to feel isolated on his first day here.

Wonderland can be overwhelming and not in a good way.

The hallways that we follow to each room are like mazes, with turn-offs and one large never-ending square so we can walk and walk until we get the exercise we need on the rainy days that always seem to overcast our little slice of crazy.

Wonderland was designed to keep the madness inside without ever giving us a chance to escape – the building and our minds.

“Are you sure?” Al asks. He looks around nervously as if he’s going to get in trouble for merely talking to someone else.

“No one is going to care. We are all crazy in here…” I look at Hare and sigh, “Well, most of us.”

“There is no room!”Thatcher shouts, his back legs stomping, but the soft mud and grass below him muffle the noise.

“There is plenty of room, Thatcher. Dinnae be dramatic.” I roll my eyes at the rabbit and laugh at the extra stomp of disapproval he gives.

He makes no move to leave my side, though, just hops closer to the burrow entrance.

“Are you talking to your rabbit?” Al asks.

“I was. I can talk to animals,” I tell Al.

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