Madness (Madness #1)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

“We are late!” Dusty exclaims, pointing to the clock on the wall that ticks by ominously.

It's a countdown to another therapy session that I’m never quite ready for.

“Not late. We still have two hours,” I sigh, resting my head in my palm as I watch him pace in the small box that is my room.

“It’s better than the room at Alice’s.”

“Yes, it is…” I start to speak back to the masculine voice, then realise Dusty is staring at me strangely.

He stalls his pacing, turning to me, and quirks his eyebrow, “Are you talking to yourself?”

I nod .

“Bit weird, isn’t it?” he laughs at his joke, and I have to clench my teeth in an effort not to hit him because aren’t we all a bit weird here?

“Yeah,” I say bitterly.

Dusty shrugs, resuming his pacing in front of me like a yo-yo.

“You could make him go away, you know?”

Just ignore him, I tell myself. Ignore them all.

“You don’t want to ignore me, Alice. You need me to tell you what to do; otherwise, you are lost.”

“Lost, lost, lost!” Queenie shrieks,

“Shut up!” I hiss.

Dusty whirls around to face me. “I said we are late! Look!” He shoves his finger in my face, then turns to the clock, which is still ticking each second.

Tick .

“Just hit him.”

Tick

“Kill him.”

Tick.

“I can’t.”

Tick.

“You can’t what?” Dusty asks.

Tick.

“I just can’t! I can’t sit here with that fucking clock ticking and you pacing!” I shove up from the bed, getting into Dusty’s space.

The sterile white walls of the room seem to get closer, pressing on me, and each breath I attempt to take becomes a desperate gasp for air. I know why I’m here, and the weight of what I did settles on my shoulders like an anchor pulling me deeper into the abyss.

Alice’s face floats in front of me, her eyes filled with betrayal and pain. “I loved you,” her voice floats towards me, but her lips don’t move. Instead, they turn up into a wicked smile filled with rows of pointy teeth.

“Chesh,” I growl, sick of the games he wishes to play.

If I could reach out and strangle his head from his body, I would, but he would just vanish into thin air as he always does.

“Al?” Dusty’s voice breaks through the fog, “Are you ok?”

I shake my head because how will I ever be ok?

These walls are a reminder – a punishment, and I know I deserve it, but all I ever wanted in life was to be free.

Free from the madness.

“Legacy. It’s a legacy, Alice, and one day you’ll see why.”

“I don’t want to see why. I want to be normal!” I scream into thin air.

Dusty visibly flinches, and his hand reaches out tentatively to touch my arm.

I fling myself back, unable to handle being touched right now.

What if I hurt him as I did Alice?

“Off, off, off! Off with their heads, heads, heads. ”

“You aren’t going to hurt me, Al,” he reassures me, his eyes softening as he looks down at me huddled in the corner.

How did I get here?

How long have I been here for?

Tick.

Chesh floats in front of me, turning his massive fluffy head to the clock, “Tick tock, Al. Not long until the Wocky gets you like he did Alice.”

I shake my head.

“I promise you, you won’t hurt me,” Dusty says, his hand outstretched for me to take.

“I might.”

“You will because it’s fun.”

“Fun, fun, fun!”

Instead of me taking his hand, Dusty sits next to me on the floor, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.

He clears his throat, “You know, down in the rabbit hole, the moments when I was clear-headed, I would wish for death. Desmond would try to save me by making deals with the guards over a game of cards, but it was never enough…” he sighs, hanging his arms over his knees, and his head drops.

“Guards, cards. Guards, guards, guards are cards, cards, cards.” Queenie rhymes in my head, and I clench my fists because of the urge to drive them into the side of my head.

“How did you survive the feeling of the walls closing in on you?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Dusty is quiet for a moment, then swallows hard, “I never thought I would, and it was worse when I was strapped to the bed, unable to move. I had to watch as my mind made the walls shrink closer, and even when I screamed out for help, they did nothing – only drugging me to shut me up.”

Hopelessness settles in my gut.

I’m never getting better, and I’m going to die in these walls because of the madness that plagues my mind.

“Just end it. End it like you ended her.”

“Mad… I’m utterly mad.”

“Not mad…” Dusty shakes his head, “I’ve been here for ten years now, and I’ve met people who are mad. You are just lost.”

“Thank you,” I say, “I’ve been feeling like my mind is fracturing here, and I feel a little better now.”

Dusty laughs, but it’s not humorous. This one is filled with anger—short and sharp: “That’s what they do here in Wonderland. They make you feel like your brain is slowly chipping away at itself until you finally lose it and end up down the rabbit hole just like we did.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get out? ”

Dusty shrugs his shoulder against mine, “We do not know. One day, the drugs became less, and I became coherent enough to leave.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask him, even when I know I should shut my mouth, but curiosity has my brain spilling the words before I can stop.

“Alice did not allow you much freedom to ask questions, and maybe this is why?”

“Shut up.”

“Again, I didn’t say anything,” Dusty sighs, “But sometimes, when the wails from the other patients in the ward become too loud, and I can’t shut my brain off long enough to fall asleep, I miss the quietness of the rabbit hole. On the other hand, it’s all I ever knew, and I guess because I’ve been here for so long, I never knew anything else other than those corridors and my small room that contained nothing but the bed I was strapped to.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

I want to say more, to tell him that I understand how it feels to have the walls close in on you as you watch them inch closer with each tick of the clock, but I don’t.

Alice taught me that speaking about your problems gets you shoved into a tiny little box cupboard for days with no food or water until your voice grows hoarse from screaming for help. She showed me that vulnerability is a weakness, so I swallow my words, choking on the bitter taste, and let the silence stretch between us both even though I hope he can see in my eyes that I understand.

Dusty slumps against the wall and lets out a shuddering breath.

“You ok?” I ask him.

“Ye-yeah. This is the first time my brain has been quiet about the seconds ticking by on the clock, and I forgot how weird it is,” he says, but I can hear the new tone in his voice; it’s more melodic than gruff – almost as if the nagging in his mind made him an entirely different person.

The setting sun casts a glow over my room through the small window I have, but the steel bars that cover it make me feel more like a prisoner than I ever have.

“At least without a window, you could convince yourself you were free.”

Dusty picks at the hem on his trouser leg, lifting it, then dropping it again.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, ignoring the masculine voice that is voicing the thoughts that I’ve always had.

I know I’m a prisoner here, but at least there’s no pretending… no daydreams where I had friends and was allowed to go to school.

Dusty doesn’t say anything but rolls up his trousers, revealing three ticking watches strapped to his ankle.

“Why three?” I inquire.

“Why not?” he cocks his head, daring me to argue with his logic which I have no desire to do .

Wonderland is weird… bonkers.

“Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers! You were bonkers once, then you kill-”

I hit the side of my head three times to shut Queenie up, not able to hear the words that she was going to say.

“Mad… I’m utterly mad.” I mutter lowly.

“Do you ever think we’re like characters in a book? Drifting through the pages with madness and wonder… someone else writing our story?” Dusty changes the subject, and a part of me is grateful that he doesn’t bring up the way I lose myself when I’ve been questioning his motions for the last hour.

He fiddles with the dials on the watches, correcting the hands until they all tick simultaneously, “I feel like we’re in a different world altogether in here. The people on the other sides of these walls are all living their lives while we seem to be stuck in between. This is no life, but it's better than prison,” I utter.

“I feel like that white rabbit sometimes from that one story. Always racing against the clock, always late. It’s exhausting.”

I nod, keeping my gaze fixated on the speck of dirt on my wall. “I was never allowed to read books, but I understand. I always feel like I’m in a maze, even in my own mind. I constantly search for an exit that doesn’t exist, but then sometimes, I feel at home in the chaos because it’s all I’ve ever known. ”

The glow from the sun turns from orange to a burning red, and I watch, intrigued as to how the colours paint my room, just like Red’s wall in hers.

“Maybe…” Dusty swallows next to me, “Maybe we aren’t lost. Maybe we’re just exploring, and we’ll find our way out one step at a time.”

I let his words sink in and give a subtle nod of my head while I sink further into my thoughts.

Maybe I am broken, but here in Wonderland, I’m free to figure out why I’m plagued with the madness.

“Legacy.”

“Mad, mad, mad!”

The two voices blend into one, just like they have always done. They were my only friends and companions when I lived with Alice, but now, I ignore them as they grow louder.

I want to be an explorer. I want to navigate the maze in my mind and find my way to the other side, where I can be normal.

Whatever normal is?

“There is no such thing as normal Alice. Everyone is mad… you are just extraordinarily mad.”

“Mad… I’m utterly mad.”

“And you always will be.”

“Mad…”

“Al?” Dusty’s voice breaks through the haze, “It’s time for therapy.”

“Coming.” I push myself up from the floor, Dusty already standing by the doorway.

“Thank you for making the itch go away for a while,” he says sheepishly.

“Thanks for not looking at me like I’m crazy,” I laugh deprecatingly.

“We’re all crazy, Al. That’s why we’re in Wonderland.”