Madness (Madness #1)

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

“Outside!” Hare shouts from next to me, his hand clinging to mine as we navigate the twisting hallways to the rec room doors.

We’re caged in like animals, the wire fence reminding us that we are trapped here while we stand outside. We have nothing much to do apart from wandering around the grounds, and even then, that’s limited because of areas that are overgrown with jagged weeds and rose bushes that make it impossible to get through.

“Shall we play the game?” I ask Hare.

“Yes! ”

Every day, we play a game of words, a tactic I use to try to help his mind even as it slowly gets worse instead of better.

“Ok. Today, I’ve been thinking of words beginning with the letter C. Can you help me?”

“Hmmm…” he taps his finger against his chin, “Car?”

“That’s good, yeah, buddy. What about Clock.”

“Tick tock, tick tock,” Hare repeats, jumping from one foot to the other.

“What else?”

“Cup! Cup, cup, cup.”

“Can you think of one more?” I ask him as we near the rec room.

“Cat!”

“Perfect! You did so good!”

Hare smiles widely at me, and I return it.

The only saving grace for my mental sanity is that I get to see Thatcher, my white albino rabbit, out there.

Thatcher keeps me informed about what’s going on around the institute, and even when it’s primarily idle gossip about the animals in the woods just past the electrified wire fence, I listen with rapt attention.

His inquisitive blood eyes and twitchy nose relay stories to me of foxes sneaking through the bushes and owls hooting loudly at night, their conversations dull enough that it sends him to sleep .

It's also the perfect time for Doris, my field mouse, to get some exercise.

The tiled walls and the screaming patients drive her insane, but she refuses to leave me in there on my own. She’s small and easy to conceal, making her the perfect companion on the inside.

Thatcher doesn’t do well in enclosed spaces anyhow, struggling with being confined in such a small area for hours at a time.

Hare and I are the last to arrive since the warden wanted to check on Hare.

His bad days are becoming more frequent, and his mind is slipping into that of a three-year-old rather than the usual four to five.

His words are less coherent, short, and to the point, and I’ve learned to savour the days when we can have an entire conversation, even if it does include Hot Wheels.

It’s a nightmare as I watch someone else that I care about lose themselves to the monster that is their mind, and I have to remind myself that Hare isn’t my brother. That he’s safe here – well, as secure as he can be.

The guards sit at their usual table beside the door, making sure that the wards don’t get mixed together. A pack of cards sits on the table between them.

“Names?” The older guard asks. The iPad lit up next to him, and he taps away on it until the spreadsheet pops up. Every person in our ward is listed there—the only way to ensure that we can be outside securely.

“Harry,” I tell him, then look down at Hare, coaxing him to do the same.

We try our hardest to ensure he’s as independent as possible in such a place, but Hare’s bad days make it hard for him to focus, and he gets confused more quickly than usual.

I squeeze Hare’s hand, and he looks up at me confused, “Tell the guards yir name, buddy,” I try to coax him.

“Oh! I’m Hare! Do you have paper?”

“No. Now go outside,” the younger guard snaps, and I want to snap his neck for using that tone with Hare – who is the most harmless person in this place.

The doors buzz and then open, revealing a dreary-looking sky.

I slouch, wishing that the sun would at least peek out from behind the clouds during our time outside. But it’s England, and as long as it’s not raining, making it ‘inside time,’ I try not to care.

Hare takes off into a run, his hand yanking from mine the moment he spots Red with her friends by the trees.

The flowers all flounder around her, trying to keep her attention, and I smile at how disinterested she is at their current conversation.

The flowers are three of her closest friends since she was incarcerated here against her will, and while they talk some serious shite, they are sweet people.

Rose, Tulip, and Bud sit in the grass, plucking the blades between their fingers, but that’s not what holds my attention.

She does – she always does.

Red leans back against the tree, her head tilted back and her eyes closed.

She’s exquisite. Her facial features work together in perfect facial harmony, and I can’t help myself as I study her while she’s not looking at me.

Her red hair glistens in the light, even on the cloudiest days, and I swear her piercing blue eyes sparkle like the ocean does when the sun reflects on the surface of the water during hot summer days.

She’s wearing a red sundress today; little black diamonds decorate the skirt, and I have to suppress the smile that tries to take over my face.

She seems like a dream that was woven into reality.

Red likes games – a lot.

But she loves the colour red more.

Her eyes open, and she zeroes in on where I’m still standing at the doors like an idiot. I know I’ve been caught, so I play it off, sending her a small smile and escaping to my solitude on the opposite end of the gardens.

I’m not an idiot. I see the way she looks at me, and how she desperately wants to spend time with me, even on the days I don’t acknowledge her.

But I can’t give in.

Red’s heart has been captured by two of the most dangerous men in this god-forsaken building, and they happily handed theirs over to her.

I cannot do the same so easily.

My heart was destroyed the day my best friend – my brother, died as cancer tore his body apart from the inside.

I find the warped tree. Its gnarled branches twist in different directions, and the leaves are scattered sparingly, as though they are stapled on to keep up the appearance that it’s not withering from the inside out.

They said failure to bloom when I asked, but I know the real reason why—though I do not tell anyone.

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.

I brace myself for the usual comments, but Al just nods his head like it’s normal.

“Why is your rabbit wearing a waistcoat?” Al asks abruptly, eyeing Thatcher warily.

“Thatcher isnae wearing a waistcoat.”

“Why on earth would I wear a waistcoat?” Thatcher stomps his foot in irritation, “It would be mightily impractical.”

“Mad… I’m utterly mad,” Al whispers under his breath, “Shh, Queenie. Not now.”

“He is most definitely mad. Just like thee Alice was,” Thatcher balances on his hind legs, wobbling slightly, and I furrow my brow in concern.

“But he is not thee, Alice Thatcher. He is Al, and he is mad, just like the rest of us. It’s how he ended up here after all,” I admonish the beady, red-eyed rabbit.

Thatcher lowers his head, and Al’s head snaps up, his eyes flicking between my own, “Who is thee Alice that you all speak of?” he asks, but I see the trepidation in his green eyes.

Everyone knows the story of thee Alice who escaped Wonderland.

She seduced the previous Jabberwocky, the warden before the Wocky who guards us now, and convinced him that she was sane even though the others who worked here knew she was not.

She escaped into the night, and rumours circled Wonderland that the warden had killed her for trying to deceive him, but we know that she got away.

Her escape plans were meticulously detailed in a book in the library, left there for the other residents to find and escape, too. However, the book was found, confiscated, and put in the warden’s office in a vault that no one knew the code to other than him.

Red’s been desperate to get her hands on the thing, locked up here by her family for something she never did.

She was sane once, but they took away her muchness, turning her into the Red we know today .

I tell Al the story of thee Alice, of how she escaped into the night, and no one ever heard from her again.

It is not that we blame her; who in their right mind would want to return to Wonderland?

I laugh at my joke because none of us are in our right mind… are we?

“So that’s it? She escapes, and she becomes a legend?” Al asks.

His hand runs through the blades of grass obsessively, as if he hasn’t been outside in years.

“Every single one of us wants to escape Wonderland, but we can’t. Nurse White makes sure of it,” I tell him.

Thatcher seems to decide that Al isn’t much of a threat and comes to lay down at my side, “Why does the mention of Alice seem to distress him so much?” Thatcher voices my concerns.

“I do not know Thatch.” Al jumps as Doris leaps onto his shoulder, scrambling over his back, “She’s harmless,” I rush to reassure him, not wanting him to hurt her because she’s a rodent.

“I am not a rodent!” Doris exclaims in outrage, “I am a field mouse. Rats are rodents.” She lets out a tiny shudder, and I suppress a laugh.

Doris can be sassy when she doesn’t get her way, and I want to continue my talk with Al. There will be time for Doris to throw a tantrum later.

Ignoring her, I turn back to Al, having missed his question, “Sorry, what did you say? ”

“I asked how Nurse White could have so much influence. She’s merely a nurse.”

“Ah, but she is not…”