Page 25 of Madness

“Shh!” I hiss to the voices, nearly dropping my plate in the process, when Red jumps in fright next to me, “Sorry.”

“Have you come up with something?” she asks, her forehead wrinkling in thought, and I have to resist the urge to reach up and smooth it out.

The others listen in, and we form a small circle.

Abe smirks around his pipe, and I see the calculating gleam in his eyes.

The same one Alice would get before she would tell me about another adventure she made up for me.

I wonder if he knew her.

“So… who are we?” Dusty starts, his eyes glancing at the clock that’s ticking away on the wall behind me.

“We’re us,” Desmond says.

“Are you?” I start, “Or are you who people have told you to be? Who they moulded you into?”

Silence – no one says a word, and I sigh.

“When were you all put in here?” I ask.

“All of us have been here since we were around thirteen,” Red says, her nails picking at a scab on her wrist, “We’ve been here for ten years now.”

Ten years in Wonderland – no wonder none of them know who they are.

Then again, neither do I.

Alice controlled every aspect of my life, locking me away when I would try to go outside, claiming it was too dangerous and the evil queen was after us.

Her delusions would get so dangerous that sometimes I would go days without food or water, convincing herself that they were poisoned.

‘The food will make you so large that you’ll tear apart the house from the inside out, and the drink will make you so little that I’ll step on you.’

So, I would starve, the pains in my stomach becoming a dull ache after a few days, and I would manage to sneak a few sips of water from the bathroom tap when I knew she was asleep.

“So, what is your answer?” Abe asks, his long, fuzzy body sliding across the floor over to where we all sit.

I know none of them can see these delusions, but just once, I wish someone could see the crazy my mind conjures up.

“We do not have any,” Desmond says, popping another biscuit into his mouth.

“What about you, Al? Do you know who you are?”

“I am everyone, and I am no one,” I tell him, “I was a son, and I am now a patient in Wonderland, a friend to the people sitting around me. I am myself, and I am not myself. Every person I meet meets a different version of myself, even the one who I meet in the mirror.”

Abe nods his head in approval, “Very good. But who are you now?”

“I do not know.”

Chapter Nine

“The warden wants to see you,” the usual guard who sits outside Jameson’s door calls through mine.

“Be right there,” I call back.

I fix the dress I wear every time I visit him, the red and black checkered skirt with a black bodice.

The only good thing about Wonderland is we get to wear what we want.

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