"ALICE!"
She trembled violently, hardly able to move as she made a beeline towards her door, slamming it shut. Her hands were shaking so hard she was scarcely able to lock it. She felt faint; her knees were going to give out in a moment.
There was another yell from downstairs and Alice stumbled to get to the window. Her brain and her body weren't connected. She was too frightened to think and process things properly.
"Girl, if you don't get down here this instant!"
Alice's hands moved swiftly to unlock the window. The latches were old and rusty, refusing to come undone.
"Alice!!!"
Her father's voice. Terror stabbed her heart violently and Alice let out a little heart-breaking wail of despair. She fought the latch desperately.
"Open, open! Please, open!" she begged, almost near tears at this point. Her nails tore at the cold metal until the first latch came undone. Without hesitation she moved onto the second, only to find with dismay that it was more stuck then the former had been.
There was a pounding on the stairs. Her father was coming.
Alice had never been so petrified in her entire life. Every moment was a waking-nightmare when her father was involved. Her mother was bad enough, but she never hurt Alice the way her father did.
The latch wouldn't open. She clawed at the glass in panic. Her fingertips were bleeding now. She was openly crying, pleading incoherently with the window. She had to get out before he came in.
She heard someone try and turn the knob her door. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps again, but for a much different reason than earlier. Her heart pounded in her ears. Earlier it was anger. Now it was terror. Pure terror.
There was a loud crashing noise and her door was gone and her father was standing there. He took up the entire doorway, not even looking like he put an effort into knocking her door off its hinges. His eyes blazed an intimidating dark green, and his red hair only added to his image of being the epitome of fury.
Alice pounded at the glass of her window in a wild frenzy. She had to get out, had to save herself, had to get out. Her hands slipped uselessly off the thick pane again and again, smearing the blood around on its once perfectly transparent surface.
Her father closed the gap between them and grabbed her arm, twisting it painfully behind her. He said something about how worthless and insolent she was before throwing her violently against a wall.
She didn't scream, but instead began mouthing a silent prayer. She might not have been religious most of the time, but she desperately needed to be now.
Her father saw her praying and struck her, hard.
Alice saw stars. There were several other blows and she was on the ground weeping. Her mouth was filled with blood, but she didn't remember him hitting anywhere near her mouth. Dazedly, she wondered if anything was broken.
She hadn't screamed yet, and that always infuriated her father. He was preparing to fling her against the wall again when Alice's fear caught up with her.
She grabbed a lamp and thrust it at her father, knocking him backwards. Flinging herself at the window, she scrabbled to open it again. In the reflection in the dark glass she could see her mother standing in her doorway, not saying a word.
She had always stood in the doorway. Her mother never said anything to help her, her own daughter. Never. Even when Alice was a little girl screaming and crying on the floor her mother just stared.
Raw fury overcame all of her fright as Alice punched the glass. Splinters of the window pierced the skin on her knuckles and blood instantly began pouring from the wounds.
She didn't care. Alice was used to pain. Alice was used to bleeding.
She turned to her mother, green eyes dark with loathing. Even standing there, beaten and broken, she was formidable sight.
"I hate you. I HATE YOU!" Alice shrieked loudly and shrilly, voice ringing out from the very top of her range. She had never spoken truer words in her life.
Hate was only thing she could feel towards her mother now.
She broke the rest of the glass on the window and jumped. Excruciating pain shot up her leg; along with aloud crack as she collided with the ground.
Moaning, Alice collapsed into a heap on the grass.
It felt like all the bones in her left ankle had shattered upon contact with Earth. Grimacing, Alice got up and began to run as best as she could with her broken ankle.
She didn't know where she was running, she wouldn't even remember running later. She would only be able to recall coming out of blackness to be in Krista and Lisa's embrace on a hospital bed.
Everything hurt, and her thoughts were incoherent from blood loss and pain. She blinked up at her two friends, eyes glazed over.
"I hate her," she informed them matter-of-factly before losing consciousness once more.
Chapter Four
A very faint ringing noise roused Alice from her sleep.
Groggily, she reached out, trying to locate her cell phone, the source of the noise.
Her fingers connected with the cool plastic the second the phone stopped ringing. She cursed in French before groaning and covering her head with the blankets as the house phone began to ring annoying.
Tiredly, she debated on whether or not to screen the person's call. Just as she was finally deciding to screen and go back to sleep, the phone was silenced mid-ring.
Her mother's voice floated upstairs and Alice figured she might as well go down and find out who was so freaking determined to talk to her.
Upon arriving downstairs she found her mother glaring daggers at her. Alice shrunk back against the wall, wishing she could be absorbed into it.
Alice's mother twirled the phone expertly in one hand, waiting until Alice felt she would faint from anxiety before speaking in low, chilling tones.
"What have you been telling people?" she hissed, stepping closer to her teenage daughter.
The very blood running through Alice's veins froze.
"Well?"
"N-nothing! Nothing! Nothing, I swear!" Alice cried, voice growing more hysterical with every second that went by.
"That's not what I got from that phone call! You little bitch! Telling people lies! After we fed you, clothed you, paid for you classes in all those ridiculous subjects! What use are you to the world? Just another fucking artist to starve to death and die on the streets! You'll never be anything! Never amount to anything useful!"
Alice shook her head frantically, locking her knees to stop them from giving out. Every word was a knife in her heart, and she dug her nails into her palm to keep from crying. Above her pain though, a primitive need reigned supreme. The need (and desire) to survive. This was a very dangerous game they were beginning to play.
"Have you gone mute, girl!? If you have, it's all the better! We don't have to hear you anymore! No one cares; no one gives a damn about you, Alice! They've only filled you with lies! Lies! Telling you that you're worth something... I'm the only one who's never lied to you, little girl! I told you the truth! You are nothing!"
"No!"
The word flew from Alice's lips, sharp as her denial, the second the vase was flung into the wall. A shard embedded itself in Alice's shoulder and she screamed in pain as blood gushed down her shirt.
Thoughts deserted her and she bolted to the door, fingers working the latches and knob swiftly. She flung herself out the door and ran. She sprinted as fast as she could away from her house, bare feet slamming against the hard concrete.
She didn't know where she was going; it didn't seem to matter then. She just had to run, faster and faster until she got away. She had to escape.
And she ran, and ran, and ran until the life left her body and she found her freedom at last from the horror that was life for Alice.
Chapter Five
Alice awoke to angry voices downstairs. Instinctively she crept over to her door, shutting and locking it. Alice backed away from the door, promptly tripping over a pair of dead Pointe shoes.
&
nbsp; She looked at the shoes, gently picking them up and admiring the black streaks and torn satin on the platform. A small smile formed on her face as she fondly recalled a conversation that had resulted from tripping over this pair last year, when they were still new.
Her mom had been in a rare good mood that day. Those were the days that Alice could look back upon and not grimace when thinking of them. When her mother was happy, Alice could be happy. Nothing bad happened when her mother was happy, as long as her father wasn't home.
She had laughingly pretended to consider helping her daughter up off the floor with exaggerated indecision, before picking up the Pointe shoes instead with one quick, fluid movement.
"Jeez, your shoes cost a fortune, girly! Don't go killing this pair before their time. Besides, I'm rather fond of this pair!" he mother scolded jokingly, mock-cradling the shoes to her chest.
Alice had been laughing too hard to respond.
"How did you end up in ballet?" her mom asked, a hand on her hip. "Someone adopted you or there was a mix-up in the hospital or something. I did soccer, your dad did soccer. We are a soccer family. You, who are you?"
"A changeling!"
Alice's mother laughed as well, beginning to tickle her daughter mercilessly to get her to admit where she had hidden their 'real' daughter and to make Alice go back to the land of fairies.
They had laughed, and laughed then. It was strange, as most of Alice's good times were related to singing, or dancing, or theater. Never, ever her home-life.
She remembered her very first play now. She remembered auditions and the cast list and the swirl of rehearsals as the one-act consumed her entire life.
Alice could recall with perfect clarity every happy moment that had come of being in that play.
Alice remembered most clearly of all her opening night.
She remembered her parents declaring they were proud of her as they came backstage to bring her roses as a way of congratulating her.
Proud! And of her!
She had been floating on Cloud Nine for weeks. Then, life wore on and things went back to normal. The novelty of having an actress for a daughter wore off and they stop being proud and began to hate her again.
The same thing happened at her first Nutcracker, when she made it into company, her first musical, and her first solo in choir.
But every time she dared to dream that maybe they'd keep being proud. She was stupid enough to hope that maybe they'd continue to love her, though she knew that no one could ever love her.
Every time, her hopes were crushed beneath screams and beatings.
The clock read 11:59 and a new day began.
Chapter Six
"Alice!"
The teenager jerked wake, looking around in startled confusion. Tiredly, she dragged herself towards the source of the yell. She stumbled, missing a step and tumbling gracelessly down the rest of the stair case.
Her wrist bent backwards in her fall and there was a loud, sickening crack.
Alice let out a small squeak, salty liquid beginning to stream down her face even as she fought so hard not to cry.
A look of alarm crossed her mother's face as she watched her daughter's fall, standing there in shock. She shook her head, knocking herself out of it as she addressed her injured child.
"Baby! We have to get you the ER, 'hun!" her mother cried, rushing to her daughter's side, kissing her affectionately on her temple.
Nothing could have prepared Alice for this; her mother had never been like this for as long as Alice had been alive. The last time her mother had kissed her, Alice had probably been two.
She jerked away from the woman's touch, not catching the faint look of hurt that crossed her mom's face. She was so confused. Her mother was cold and angry and... Her mother hated her. Her mother had always told Alice how much she hated her.
"Baby?" her mom asked softly, hovering near her, not sure how to react now that Alice had pulled away.
"I'll have Krista take me," Alice said through tightly gritted teeth, trying her hardest not to jostle her wrist.
"What?"
Her mother looked genuinely confused. She was tugging on a strand of blonde hair, so much like Alice's hair, staring at her daughter and just standing there.
"It's okay, mom. It’s okay, Krista will take me," Alice repeated slowly, starting to get up.
"Why can't I take you? You're my daughter. I'm responsible for you," she protested, beginning to get upset, temper rising.
Alice had to fight hard not to laugh out loud.
Responsible for her. When was the last time her mother took responsibility of her daughter?
"Momma, you never take care of me," Alice said, not unkindly. Before her mother could protest once more, she held up one hand, gesturing for more time to speak.
"You were never there when I hurt myself. Accident or not. Krista was though. She was always there. So, I know she'd take me without a problem," she explained clearly, not understanding why her mother was so insistent on taking her.
“You care more about Krista than you do about me, don't you? You care more about some stranger than your own mother, don’t you?" her mother inquired, a bitter smile forming slowly at the corners of her mouth. "Well, don't you?"
Alice looked at the woman who had never been there for her. Never wiped away her tears. Never comforted her. She answered surely, looking directly into the woman's eyes so there would be no wondering of exactly how true her answer was.
"Yes."
Chapter Seven
The building was ridiculously large and lavish, but it suited its purpose well. Her mother, though she had looked bewildered at the request, had given her permission to go to church, but even Alice wasn't quite sure why she had even asked in the first place.
She pulled on one of the large oak doors, hoping it would be unlocked. It was, and Alice entered the building timidly.
The first thing she saw was the Priest, about to leave the church himself. He looked like he had seen a ghost.
"Bless my soul... Is that... Alice?" he questioned, in an obvious state of shock.
Alice was vaguely afraid the old man was going to have a heart attack as she nodded. It turned out, however, that he was just going to go into a fit of hugging and praying.
"Oh, my girl, she’s come back to the Lord at last!" he said happily, pulling her into a warm embrace. Alice tried very hard to hug him back and not run right back out of the church. He smiled and recited bible verses at her for about ten minutes, before saying he had to leave but she was welcome to stay for as long as she liked.
Alice wandered over to a statue of the Virgin Mary, sitting down stiffly in front of it and wondering how looking at a woman made of marble was going to help her.
She hadn't prayed in so long. Where there had once been faith, now there was a hole. Once upon a time, Alice had felt at home in a church. She had prayed, and worshiped and loved, just like everyone else.
And here she was now. Lost. Alone. Scared.
Everyone had been in shock when she quit her youth group. She stopped coming to extra masses, then on Wednesdays, then at all. Much to her parents’ annoyance, for months upon months, almost a full year, people came to their door and asked why Alice had left the church. She just told them she didn't feel it anymore, and that she was much better off being atheist. They would all just look sadly at her and walk away.
Alice did want desperately to cry out to God though. She wanted to ask him if He was still there. If He loved her. If He wanted her to come back home. But what if He didn't though? The church told her God didn't want people like her.
God didn't want little suicidal girls. He doesn't forgive those who hurt themselves, who want to kill themselves.
She stood up and walked to the front of the church. A crucifix was nailed to the wall there.
"You lied to me," she told the man on the cross. The man called her savior.
"You told me You would love me! You told me God was there for His c
hildren! That You forgive me. That You would forgive me. But it was all just lies..."
Alice stared up at the carved wooden face of Jesus.
"Everyone lies to me. I should have known You would too."
She closed her eyes sadly, inhaling deeply before continuing.
"Why though? Why'd You go and die if it wouldn't do any good for the people that really need You? I need salvation! Not these happy people that come every week who've never sinned in their dammed lives! I need You! Do you hear me, God!? I know You do! I need salvation too!"
She fell on the floor, sobbing quietly.
"I want salvation too," she whispered hoarsely. "I haven't done anything wrong, I promise. Why don't You love me? I hurt, everything hurts... Why? Why can't You make it better?"
"Don't You care?" Alice asked softly. "Don't You love me?"
She let her head fall forward, blonde hair spilling over her face to cover her eyes. Her shoulders shook, her entire body trembled.
"I want to come home, now, Father. Please be there for me. Please don't leave me. Give me salvation. Please..."she begged, her voice scarcely audible.
She fumbled around for a few minutes, trying to find something, anything that was sharp. Eventually she came across a small shard of broken glass.
Perfect.
Alice moved back to where she had been, taking the glass to her wrist and holding it there unsurely. Did she really want to do this?
She chewed on her bottom lip ponderingly for a few minutes before deciding that this was the only choice she had. There was no life for her here in this world. Blocking all other thoughts out of her mind, she pressed down and slid the shard down her wrist, effectively slitting it before doing the same to the other one.
She curled up into a ball underneath the crucifix, clinging to herself for comfort.
"Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Please, I need to find my peace. It's not really my fault I want to die. I am dying, but that is my fault. Please don't leave me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let me die soon, please. Let me come home," she murmured, voice hardly even a whisper.
Life slipped gently from her body, her pleas for salvation still on her lips, blood mingling with tears on the polished white tile floors of the empty church.