Page 69 of Madness

Red’s fingers entwine with mine, “Maybe we’re not truly lost. Maybe we are right where we need to be… together. With you and the others, I feel like I can face whatever happens.”

“You mean that?” I ask her, turning my head to look at her as she stares blankly at her ceiling.

“I do.”

“I’m sorry for barging in,” I apologise, feeling guilty for being here for so long, but Red just shakes her head inresponse.

“I don’t mind Al. I like having you here in my space. I wish you could see how I began to paint you before it was all washed away.” She sighs, but it’s filled with hopelessness.

“I bet it was amazing, like really amazing. I’ve never seen paintings before… not really unless you count Alice’s ramblings that were littered all over the walls in our house.”

“I’ll show you one day. I promised Desmond to wait until he manages to get me some painting supplies.”

That seems to draw a smile out of her, and I smile in response, “I’d like that.”

I look at the wall where her mural once was, now marred by washed-down streaks of blood, and I have to suppress the memories I work so hard to try to forget.

The memories of being locked in the small cupboard flood back, vivid and painful… always painful. My fingers ache – a phantom pain from when I would claw at the wall until my nails were gone, aching and bleeding.

I would call out for her, promising never to leave, hoping my pleas for my mum would reach through her delusions. But it was never enough.

Instead, I was left in the darkness for days, forgotten like an abandoned pet, until reality would finally break through, and she remembered that I existed.

Red’s hand on my chest breaks me from the memories, and I look down to where her fingers are splayed out over my blue top, “Are you ok?” she whispers into the room.

I start to nod, then stop myself because I’m not. I haven’t been for a while, and Wonderland seems to be twisting my mind.

I don’t know what way is up or down, and I feel like I’m falling… floating? As the world rushes by me.

“I do not know,” I admit, the words somehow heavy on my tongue.

Red’s eyes search mine for a moment, and she rests her forehead against my shoulder, “Sometimes I don’t know if I’m okay either,” she admits softly, “My body feels tight, unnatural almost, and I lash out because I feel irritated. The painting helps a lot, and I know that hurting myself isn’t ok, but it’s a release.”

“Does Jameson get mad?” I ask because I can barely handle seeing another mark on her skin when she comes down for tea. My heart physically aches with the desire to hold her, to beg her to mark me instead because I can bear the pain if it means she isn’t hurting herself.

But I also know that she isn’t mine to feel like this about.

Red nods, a soft, almost bitter laugh escaping her lips, “They both do. Bander and Jameson both hate it, but they get it. They know that Wonderland is so messed up that I needa way to cope with being stuck here when I know it’s not where I belong.”

She zones out, staring at the now blank wall, and I pull her closer to me, wanting to comfort her in any way I can.

There’s a sharp knock at the door, startling us both, “Red, Red, Red!” Hare’s voice excitedly shouts from the other side.

Red stands, opening the door with a forced smile, “Hey buddy! What you got there?” she asks him.

“Wocky got you a present!” he shoves a plastic vase into her hand, thirty white roses filling it.

“Can you tell Wocky that I said thank you?” she says, taking the present and stepping backwards.

“Yup, yup, yup!” Hare skips away, and Red closes the door gently, her forced smile fading into a frown.

She places the vase on the table, her fingers smoothing over the pristine petals. She seems almost dazed, and I start to worry when she wobbles on her feet.

“Red?” I murmur, scared to startle her.

“I-”

“Come on, let me run you a bath.”

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