Twice Alice

To Alice, who bled to keep my roses red.

ProloguE

Built in front of a cemetery was an orphanage.

Within, the paint-dried walls continued into long winding halls. The floors were of wood, rotting, like the rest of the establishment. Shadows freely walked beside the four foggy glass windows the building had. Doors were never left open, as if the sharp silence would weave out into the halls like the sound of stitching wounds.

Tombs surrounded the orphanage – some clean, some defiled. The two-story house seemed frighteningly awake, watching people pass by, with the bones of the past slowly tearing it apart. The roof always met the black sky, and the only way you would distinguish it from the darkness was the single candle placed on the topmost window.

The evening sky was overcast, the moon casting light in the unfamiliar darkness.

A black sedan pulled to a stop on the side of the street. A brown-haired man struggled out of the car's driver seat, not bothering to cover himself from the penetrating rain. The wind blew at him, hard enough to make him stumble back. Glancing around, he locked his car and walked up to the shadowed building he had parked in front of.

“God, what kind of weather is this?” he muttered to himself as he straightened out his buttoned shirt and knocked on the wooden door. It felt hollow, the door, as if time had eaten through it. Lightning cracked as the door creaked open.

A pair of white eyes peered from the opening. “Yes?” The voice was fragile and old. It was easily drowned by the wind's howling and the rain's drumming.

The man gave a timid wave and scratched his head. “Good evening...” he trailed off, unable to continue.

“Ms. Henreich.”

“Good evening, Ms. Henreich. My name's Arthur. I came for-”

“Oh, Mr. Evans! Come in, come in.”

The door swung open to reveal a wrinkled woman in a black coat. Nodding, Arthur let himself in and gently closed the door behind him. When he turned around, the old woman was gone. There was an eerie creaking upstairs; he thought that maybe she was already upstairs. The darkness gripped him and made his muscle stiffen. There wasn't any light inside the house, only candles. He couldn't make up his surroundings except for the staircase a few steps to his left and the empty hallway up front. It was quiet, and only the sound of the harsh wind outside could be heard.

“Mr. Evans?” That same fragile voice. Arthur looked around and found the woman beside the door, smiling at him.

His voice felt stuck. “I-I'm here to-”

“Yes, I know dear. Just wait a little moment, they're coming.”

Quick pounding of little feet came rushing down the stairs. Children of varying ages started filling the room, each one bearing an innocent face of hope. Their excitement was expressed openly in incoherent noise.

Ms. Henreich counted, her long bony finger moving up and down without rhythm. Her finger stopped at an empty space at the back of the crowd of children.

“Alice! Alice!” she shouted.

A lean girl came down from the staircase. Arthur observed her body structure and guessed she was at least seventeen years-old. Dull, faded gold hair shrouded her face like a veil, and her movements were staggered by her long blue nightgown. Her head kept moving, unseen eyes looking everywhere as if something could come and bite her anytime. Ms. Henreich immediately took the girl by the arm. Her old eyes traced the girl's pale skin. Arthur noticed the puzzle of scars down the girl's right wrist.

“No new cuts,” the lady muttered softly.

Arthur wasn't sure if he heard that right. He found himself staring at the girl. “What's her name?” he asked.

“Oh, her name is Alice.” Ms. Henreich beckoned the girl to greet the man. Alice stayed frozen. “She's a bit shy. She was attacked by a rabbit when she was young. It got her traumatized,” the lady quickly explained with a wave of her hand.

“I...I see,” Arthur stuttered, glancing at the girl again. She looked like she had been beautiful like a doll when she was younger. The life was seeped out of her now. Even her limbs looked too thin.

Thunder crashed. The room lit up for a quick second. Arthur choked. Blood was dripping from the girl’s cheek. He stared, thinking. Thunder came again, then he sighed when he saw the girl's dry face. His eyes were playing tricks on him.

“Alright children, behave now,” Ms. Henreich said as she fixed Alice's shirt. She tried to fold the sleeves to hide dried splotches of blood, but Arthur already noticed it.

“I think I'll just-”

“Tell me who you choose, Mr. Evans,” the old woman said, glancing at the children. Arthur looked at them. More than a dozen pairs of wide eyes were gazing up at him. None of them moved, hands on the side and feet apart. Their faces portrayed a fierce emptiness, almost crossing him as a carnal hunger for human flesh. The girl with silver locks stood behind everybody, but Arthur could see her clearly. She was smiling. She was smiling at him.

The silence was then cut by a sharp, shrill scream that ran from end to end of the room. There was a muffled noise, then another bloody scream that made Arthur grip the walls. It was of desperation to stay alive, but Arthur heard otherwise.

The voice bounced off the dull walls, dying into silence as it reached him. It was calling him, beckoning to him for help.

"Kill me."

Sharp voices suddenly started filling his head. He grabbed for his ears, and his hand met a warm liquid. His ears were bleeding. The children were all smiling at him now. The room had glowed red.

There it was again, a crying whisper.

“I want to die.”

Haunting screams dug into his mind like nails. The shadows in the room devoured everything else, slowly moving across the floor to his feet. Alice was on the floor, a headless body on her lap. A head fell from the ceiling, its eyes stitched closed and its mouth forced open. She took it and started knitting it back to the body’s neck. Arthur screamed and tried to run, but hands from beneath the floor had taken hold of his feet. He struggled as Alice got up and came walking toward him.

“I want to die,” her voice echoed.

Arthur saw a glint of silver on the floor. He picked it up. He started stabbing Alice to death.

The children stared in shock as blood splattered all over the room.

Ms. Henreich tried to stop him. “Mr. Evans! What are you-” But in a few seconds, Arthur had chopped his own head off.

Some children started crying while some were unaware of what had just happened. Alice was standing far back into the room behind everyone else, silent. Ms. Henreich told the children to go back to their rooms upstairs, and they obeyed. She quickly took the phone and made a call.

“H-Hello? T-This is Ms. Henreich.” There was a pause, and a muffled voice answered as if in confirmation. “It...it...happened again.”

As the man on the other end of the line tried to calm her down, Ms. Henreich couldn't help but look at the young girl with silver locks staring at her. She had never seen the girl's eyes before, as they were always covered by silver hair. But tonight, she was staring right into them.

Later that night, the police came and had to shut down the orphanage.

Ms. Henreich was found with her own hand down her throat, dead.

DoWN The hOLE

Six long years ago.

Alice stood with cold feet as her mother waved at her from the door, a dark green suitcase behind her. Her insides churned as her father placed his hand on her back. The wounds had not yet healed. She knew they never would.

Alice wanted to scream out, but he had already eaten her words before they even reached her throat. She wanted to hide behind her mother, but he had already chained her with links even the mind could not break. Once the door closed and all the pretending was done, tears came running down Alice's cheeks. It was always like this.

He ran his hand down her back and temporarily left her to lock the door. Alice started to run, though the man she ought to call 'father' didn't seem to care. She was trapped. Maybe he even enjoyed the part where he comes running after her, as it was part of his so-called 'game'.

One lock, two locks, three. Alice ran up the stairs, tripping, crying. She bled, being so careless, but the young girl wasn't to blame. There was no pain, only the searing numbness that had never left her since that day he first touched her. The day that he made her his, the day that he defiled her, the day that tore away what made her human.

Quick pounding of feet. A massive arm sent Alice plummeting to the white tiles of the floor. She let out a strangled cough as something twice her weight settles on top of her.

“Hush, Alice,” the man whispers softly into her ear, brushing her gold hair. His hand circles her pale face then covers her mouth to soften her sobs. It felt cold to her, his skin. It burned her like ice. His hands danced, and she could only close her eyes and try to feel number than she already was. The feeling of helplessness was already a memory forgotten.

The ceremony continued. To every beat of her heart she waited for it to end. She knew he would be content soon enough after using her. She knew it would end, that the man would soon realize what he was doing. These were the brittle lies she tried to fool herself with.

His hand left her mouth for more pleasurable endeavors. Alice choked as he devoured her. He was hungry, starving for her. He suddenly stopped and watched her, waiting for her to resist as if it would give him more excitement.

“Have you told mommy anything?” he asks her, moving his head to her neck.

“N-No,” she cries out in a whisper. Her voice comes out weak, like shattered glass, void of all the anger and hate that was boiling within.

“Good girl.”

The man smiled as he gave her one final kiss, one last scar. He stood up. Alice tried to feel her limbs as her hands clenched against the red-smeared floor. It was done at last. She had lived through one more day.

“Now for your birthday present,” he snickered.

He zipped down his pants and dragged Alice to the bedroom. No. It was supposed to end there. His grasp on her arms tightened as he brought her under him.

Alice's mind was losing itself. Questions. Sadness. Soft fabric. Pain. The feel of his hand grazing down her thighs. Burning.

She knew what was happening. But she couldn't understand. Her father wouldn't go this far. But she felt that he could. Her eyes locked with his. All she could see was lust. A deep, carnal lust.

“Let me go!”

The man was silenced. It had been the first time she had screamed at him. He punched her twice or thrice, he didn't count. He kept on hitting her until she stopped screaming. But no matter how many times he did, she didn't stop.

“You noisy little-” The man stood up and opened a nearby drawer. Out of it he produced a kitchen knife. Alice's eyes grew wide. And then she laughed.