Author's Note: I will be finishing 'There' for any of you wondering. I've just been a bit ( a lot) slow with it. It's coming. I promise.
This was just an idea that popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I'd love opinions on it. Maybe it's not as good an idea as I think. This chapter hasn't been beta'd yet. I haven't even asked anyone to beta it yet. I just would really love some feed back. This chapter is short, but the others won't be. I needed to begin to set the scene and that's all.
Summary: We meet Alice before she found the Cullens, before she even became a vampire. The memories she no longer has are relived one last time. This story will begin while Alice is still a human, and will be told in flashbacks until her past is clear to us.
Three Days with the Devil
The normally soft padding of feet echoed in my ears. I could feel as my foot, sweaty from nerves and the cold tile, set down and peeled off with every step I took. The ball connected with a soft thud and the toes pushed off with a sickening squelch as I hurried down the corridor, trying to remain undetected in the darkness. Thud - squelch -thud - squelch. I crossed my arms across my chest, trying to protect myself from my invisible pursuers. I chanced a quick glance over my left shoulder into the darkness. Thud - squelch. They were bound to notice that I was missing from my room soon. I was positive it was almost time for the midnight rounds. I hadn't gotten very far. I could still see the door of my room if I chanced another look behind me. Room 666. The devil's den they called it.
"How appropriate," they'd say when they thought no one was listening. "Someone's touched her and I'd not say it was an angel."
"A fallen angel, perhaps," another would say with a nasally chortle. "Satan's hand's been upon her. Far too pretty to be anything but a fallen angel."
It had been said before; that I had an angelic air about me. I could recall a woman telling me I was pretty as a sprite. A man calling me Angel and Princess. But that was before. Before when there were people who read me stories, and rocked me to sleep at night. Before when I had oranges at Christmas and a doll and a Sunday dress. Before, when I had thick, raven curls and long, sweeping lashes. That was before.
It wasn't before anymore. I continued to run, the soft thud-squelch-thud-squelch my own internal clock as I ran away from the devil's den, away from my hell on earth. I came to the end of the hall way and stopped to peek around the corner. I placed a hand on the wall to support myself as I steadied my breathing; afraid someone would hear my panting in the darkness, and it left a sweaty trail on the paint. My too thin body was shivering from the chill of the evening. The thin, cotton gown I was wearing offered little protection against the frigid temperature.
There was no sign of people in the next dark corridor, so I tip toed quietly around the corner, staying close to the walls and once sure the coast was clear, continued my jog past the darkened, locked doors.
This corridor was unfamiliar to me, and for that reason I was more jittery than before. I was certain I could hear voices, but when I darted my eyes around I saw and heard no one. Once I thought I heard the clack clack clack of a nurse's shoes but as I ducked into a doorway and out of sight, there was no one to be seen.
I wouldn't make it to another level. The heavy metal doors creaked like the chains of Jacob Marley, when they opened, and if that weren't enough, the bells that sounded would raise an alarm at such an hour. This late at night no one moved between floors. I'd been here long enough to learn that. But the windows weren't guarded, they had no bells. I was a long way up, on the sixth floor of a seven floor building. My journey wasn't an easy one, but the escape from hell wasn't supposed to be, was it? If it were easy I wouldn't feel such trepidation. If it were easy I would just run down the hundreds of stairs and out the front doors, into the city streets and dance around.
I imagined myself, lithe and beautiful again, carefree as I spun gracefully in the glow of the street lights, snow flakes catching on my gorgeous lashes, smile lighting up my face as my Sunday dress swirled around my knees. She, the kind lady, would call to me, and I would dance to her, laughing and smiling. Happy. But that was before. There was no before anymore. Only now. And I wanted, no I needed to leave now behind. Now was hell. This place was hell. With its dingy white walls and its cold, grey floors and its bars on the windows. If hell were cold, I know this place would be hell.
People walked these halls, lifeless. There was no light in their eyes, no smiles on their lips, no colour in their cheeks. White gowns and grey stockings. Some would wring their hands, distraught and hopeless. Others would stiffen their shoulders and shuffle along with no purpose. There were the few who straightened their backs, tipped their chins and walked with a false pride. But it was false, because no one was proud to be in a place like this. No one liked it here. The people here were here because they weren't normal. I wasn't normal and so I was put in this place to be controlled, manipulated, tortured, for something I had no control over.
I'd rather they had burned me at the stake like they would have done two hundred years before. A burning stake would have been preferable to the sterile hall ways and cold, metal restraints I faced here. In the witch hunts the witches had the chance to run. To hide. Here, in this place of misery and torture there were no hiding spots. There were no hiding spots, but I would try to run. I had nothing left to lose by trying. I had nothing left to lose.
Read and Review....I'd like to know if this is worth continuing.