Ah, I should be updating my other stories, but I got inspired to write a Alice/Neville story. I hope you enjoy it :D
Pain, pain, pain, ow. Why does it hurt so much? That laugh, it hurts my eyes. Please, please, stop it. The man is yelling, it hurts my ears. I love him, I love Fr-no, he's a stranger, I don't love strangers. Bad men are strangers; they take kids like me away. But think I know him, though I don't know from where. Maybe he's only a little bit of a stranger? The woman just keeps laughing, and the pain won't stop. Please, please, please. I want my Mommy, why isn't she there? My throat hurts from screaming so much.
Back and forth, back and forth, I have to rock. It helps the pain go a little away, but it still hurts. Why won't it stop? One, two, four, no, three, four, four, four…why don't I remember what's after four? I was the first to learn how to count, Mommy was so proud of me. Ow! The lady keeps on laughing, and the pain won't go away. There is a lot of black, and I can't see anymore.
Suddenly, there are a bunch of strangers around me. I'm scared, I don't know them, and they could hurt me. Mommy always said to be care-ful around strangers. I want to make Mommy proud of me again. They're all in white, white isn't even a colour. Maybe they're angels? I don't want to be dead yet. But they don't have wings and halos like angels should have.
"Nightmare…up the dosage…not in reality…" No, the lady and the man are real. I'm real. I don't hurt anymore, but I'm not 'magining. Mommy said it's not good to be 'mangining people.
Now there is light coming out of the window when before it was dark. I don't like the dark; the monsters like to hide under the bed. And when it is light I don't think of the pain and the mean woman's laughter.
The white people leave, then come back, this time with food. One of the strangers laughs and says something I don't hear. Mommy will be mad at me for not listening. The white stranger has a nice laugh, not like the mean lady's laugh. I smile.
The food is colourful, and my smile grows. I grasp my fork and I try to eat my food. My arm doesn't seem to listen to me, and I start to become frustrated. I know how to eat! Why can't I do this? A white woman grabs my fork and starts shoving the food in my mouth. I protest, making a loud shrieking sound while I try to get away from the mean lady. I'm not a baby! The woman shakes her head and puts the fork down. I keep on trying to eat, getting more food on me then in my mouth. I'm still hungry, but one of the white people takes the plate away from me.
I'm almost in tears when another white lady takes me out of the room. My legs feel heavy and I walk very slowly. Maybe she'll take me to Mommy? I don't like these angels at all. There are more strangers, and I really want to be home. Maybe Daddy will come back from living with God and take me home? God is a nice man; he would let Daddy save me. He was mean a lot, and stank like smoke, but I know him. There are too many strangers here.
The lady takes off my clothes and I start crying. I don't know what going on! The woman stops, and says "Oh Alice…" Who is this Alice? It can't be me, but there's nobody else here. My name is…why can't I remember my name? I decide that my name is Alice now, even if I'm not sure if it really is. I like the name Alice. I smile, now that I got a name.
The white lady continues to take off my clothes, and I now know I'm in a bathroom. I don't need to pee. Is it bath time? It's really early for bath time though. I don't see a bath though, just a weird hose. What is that?
The woman starts talking, and I hear the word shower. I try to think of what she means. Is that was the weird hose thing is?
I look down at my body, and I am confused. Why am I so big? I look more like Mommy now then a five year old.
Water suddenly blasts out of the hose. I scream, not sure what this is. I try to run out of there, but the white lady is holding on tightly to me. She whispers some nice mumblings to me. I finally figure out what this shower is, a stand up bath. I calm down after I make that connection. She helps me wash up, my arms are still not listening to me, and I feel very clean.
I get dressed and brush my teeth, though the lady still has to help me. I don't know why I can't do it myself. It's like my body is not listening to my head. I'm walking back to the room when a loud man wearing the same clothes as me. He starts talking so fast and keeps on touching me. He's much scarier then the white people, and I start to cry again. I want my Mommy.
"Mm, ah, me…" I try to call for Mommy, but it sounds weird. Is my voice not listening to me either?
The white woman makes the scary man go away, and I smile again. She is a nice stranger, even if she scared me too.
I'm back into my room, and the lady gives me some crayons. I love drawing. I want to make Mommy something nice for when she comes. I make a picture of my mommy and me, with Daddy in the sky. When I'm finished, the picture starts to move, like the telly does. Did I make it do that? I never did that before, and Mommy says magic isn't real.
The white lady tells me that I have visitors, and I'm excited. Is Mommy or Daddy coming? A little boy and a woman that looks like my Grammy comes in. I smile, will Grammy take me home?
"Ga, ra, me?" I have the biggest grin on my face, if I'm a good girl I'll get to go home. Grammy looks sad, and I pat her shoulder to try to make her feel better. Gramps went with Daddy the other day, she must still be sad about that.
"Alice…" I perk up, my name must be Alice, even if I forgot it. "…I'm Augusta, Frank's mother." She's not Grammy? And who's Frank? The non-Grammy leaves me after a few minutes of mumbling that I can't hear, and I'm staring at the little boy in front of me. He looks familiar, so he can't be a stranger. But I don't know his name. He looks a lot like me; maybe he's a cousin?
"Mum." The boy said very quietly, and I think I didn't hear him right. I'm not a Mum –I'm only five! A really big five year old, but I definitely am not a Mum. It has to be a nickname.
"…love you Mum." I hear the boy say, and I smile. The boy is nice, even with the weird nickname he gave me. I take a piece a gum off the table next to the bed and I give him the wrapper while I eat the gum. He looks sad and happy at the same time, and I don't know how to deal with that. I started hum a little tune Mommy used to sing to me before bedtime.
The boy and non-Grammy leave, and I stay alone here with all the white strangers, not sure when my Mommy will come and save me.