"Get Well Soon," the card said to me snidely in such curly letters that seemed to secretly imply, "For we want nothing to do with you if you can't be as self-assured and raucous as every other baboon that walks this Hell. Get sane soon or you will forever be locked up without a second sorry thought from any of us."



None of them knew what sharp words haunted me, being whispered in my ear in such a tone that no matter how loud I screamed, my cries could not drown out each jagged letter that spun around and then some in my head; suicidegirl, suicidegirl, ohdearmewhataninsanechild!



The words clouded together as a choking miasma, like the blackest darkest smoke that hung so low in its own rancid odor. All I could do was clutch my throat and force every breath in, which led to heaving, vomiting, as if I could rid myself of such mental waste that easily! If it was that simple, I'd be quite the purger!



Their faces materialized before me, around me, circling me in some mean childhood game. "Circle you, circle you!" they mouthed. The sounds were lost to the hurricane that washed the colors away from the room. A flurry of soft fabrics flew by me, carried away in the wind of the storm as quickly as they'd come. To shield myself from the harshness of it all, and I saw the first blooms of beautiful red flowers trickling down from the welts the words had given me. Half circles dotted my palms in fours straight in a row. A slice for every letter in the Love and Hate scribbled on my fingertips.



A horrible gypsy shriek pierced my disconnection, bringing all of my thoughts together on the horrible witch lady that stared me down. Her hair snarled and snapped as she charged forward, war cry continuing, She was close enough now that I could smell the death and rot in her soul, when she stabbed me with an unseen claw, pulling me down to the abyss. "Can't... her diseasedness!... halluci...? Should we... maybe... lithi...?"



...



I could barely hear the gypsy voice. It was not nearly as high in pitch as I had thought it to be. The witch was calmer, not as desperate. There was another witch beside the first, with long scritchy scratchy nails decorated in hearts. She moved like an insect, a praying mantis that stalked jerkily towards her prey. "She's awake," the insect said, eyes bugged out in shock. She skittered over to my side, and my vision became a bit less blurry, as I looked down and realized I was strapped to some sort of torturous medieval table and covered in a white cloth, perhaps so I wouldn't stare at my own guts and intestines staring back at me. Pain was everywhere, everywhere there was a needle poking out and strapped to some mechanical beast or bag of oozing liquid. I tugged at the cords. I did not want such poisons dripping into me.



"No, you wretched child! Don't touch that!" the witch lady cried. She swiped the cords out of my pale and scarred hands,accidentally ripping one of the long silver devices from the inside of my elbow. It spit blackish liquid all over the cloth, seeping through and inevitably back into my body through my skin. The acidity burned me, and I screamed hysterically, yanking needle after needle out. The mechanical beasts on the other end could not bear the idea, and in turn started to scream with me. Hands covered me, sliding down me, up and down me, smothering and covering my mouth and eyes. The hands came from nowhere, from invisible monsters that pulled me through the table and down, down, down.



I was dragged further and further, down through the floor and down the rabbit hole. What no one had told me before about Wonderland was that it had an insect problem. I landed on a pile of crunching leaves, moving and squirming to their own beats. They crawled up my nose and in my ears and were swallowed by overly chewed lips that parted to their distinct flavors. Beetles crawled inside my skin to places I'd never known existed. The depth of my soul and heart was penetrated by a lone caterpillar, lost from the other bugs.



There was a girl, once. She was pallid and lifeless in every aspect. She was hideous. Black and red flowers bloomed and rotted on her flesh. Her own shadow was too embarrassed to walk beside her, for she was so disdained. The girl often carried her emotional baggage under her eyes. She was a runner with no finish line. When she retreated to her place of residence...



I sat in front of the mirror, stitching carefully. First those tiny pink lips, so they could speak no evil. They ran crimson by the time I was finished. Next were my eyes, which would no longer bother anyone with their grayness. I saved the nose for last, for that would lead to suffocation. The black thread gleamed brightly in response.



"Father heard his Children scream, so he threw them in the stream. Saying, as he drowned the third, 'Children should be seen, not heard!'"...A shadow covered my vision momentarily as the horrible creature towered over me. It let out a terrible screech, a mix between a scream and when you rubbed chalk the wrong way, and two little slits in its face opened up, revealing silvery crescents in colorless depths of hatred and darkness. A strange line cracked open beneath its eyes, and tiny razors grew out and hung from the stitched lining of its mouth. I couldn't run fast enough. Every breath I took cut the insides of me into shreds, and my bare feet stumbled several times on scraps of rotting wood, metal fragments, and broken glass and bone shards. I didn't look back; I could sense the cool dark spot right behind me and I could feel the breeze, the chilling wind, that drafted from the beast's body. I continued on as such until I knew I couldn't go much farther. I dared a quick peek, and saw the reflective slivers narrow, the glimpse of a mouth smiling. And then I was falling, fast at first. Then I started to slow down, to float and suspend in the liquid I had fallen into. A freezing claw grabbed each shoulder and I spun around to break free of the foul thing's grip. I let out a gasp, which created hundreds of sparkling bubbles that escaped and burst on contact with the monster. Its pupils grew larger and larger, until the rest of the eyes were no more, and I felt drawn into them. I knew I'd be swallowed whole, I knew I'd drown in its eyes. I couldn't look away, no matter how hard I tried. I was locked in some sort of spell. I was dead. But then, I came alive. Blinding light burst around me, and a dreadful cold filled me. I didn't look away from it, even as it's head imploded and caved in, releasing an oily liquid into the water, like blood. The beast screamed, slowly collapsing, until the last little pieces shattered and exploded, flying everywhere as ice started to stretch out across the water. I frantically kicked, trying to break the surface. The ice encased me, and I was left frozen forever in diamonds....



Laughter echoed throughout the hollow metal structure, with squealing voices calling out to each other across the barren landscape. Amidst the merry making sounds of joy and childish foolishness, I sat, my filthy blond curls hanging damply around me as the first tears fell, both from my eyes and from the sky. The mud sucked greedily at the soles of my shoes as I stood in my rusting prison, the bars of my cage engulfing me, trapping me in my own grief. There was no one else left to stand there with me, to hold me, to tell me that life would get better eventually. I was lonely, but never alone.



I saw his shimmering eyes first, reflecting the colors of the chipped off blood red paint of the structure. As he drew closer, he reflected the paleness of my own self; the yellows and grays and sickening mix of paste and skin that made up my being. He dared to creep farther into the abyss I had created for myself, drawing ever nearer effortlessly, as if he wasn’t bound by human laws. His movements were fluid; he drifted as a ghost, with no visible motion that I could see. I was entranced by this creature, this angel that came to me in the night.



There was nothing to tell of him. He was the embodiment of nothing. He was the lack of light, tainting the already pitch black a few shades darker. The rain did not bother him. He was next to me now. I could reach out to touch him. His eyes changed again, and I knew this time, they were his, not reflecting anything else but his own soul to me. They glittered hungrily for a moment, but were cold and hard the next, disguising whatever he could feel, if he felt at all. I shivered, knowing fully well that he did not.



A short gust of wind blew the ratty strands of my hair forward, into my face. They whipped and stung my face, sticking to my cheeks in the humidity. I brushed them away, tucking the strays behind my ear. I looked up, and he was gone. Or rather, not gone. I could feel his looming presence near me, although I could not see his darkness anywhere.I cried out in pain as my shoulder was ripped open, revealing my blood into the night. I gasped and cradled my injured arm, wondering why he would want to hurt me. He faded, and then disappeared altogether, leaving me there with myself. My blood and tears fell to the mud, mixing with the rain, seeping into the ground as quickly as it dropped. I watched in fascination for a few moments.



That’s when I screamed. Hands broke free beneath me and dug their nails deep into my ankles, pulling me down, down, down. I was on my knees, with these horrible creatures covering me, grabbing at my clothing, ripping cloth and skin and hair in their furious attempt to take me under. I tried to scream again, but a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my whimpers and sobbing.



Then… it was over...



"Honey, are you feeling better now? Are you ready to come home?" This horrible monster spoke in such a soothing tone that I wanted to believe it. Instead of spitting in his face, I took his outstretched hand and sat up. "There, there. You don't have to stay in this wretched place anymore. Your five months are up. You are now... stable enough to go back to school. If you work hard, that scholarship for Harvard may still be achievable." His face peeled away, revealing clockwork parts and gears shifting and turning like cogs to his pity machine.



"Yes, Daddy, dear. Take me home. I'm all better now."



The tip of the needle poked my hand as I clenched it tighter behind my back.