***I HAVE NOT YET READ THE TWLIGHT SAGA OFFICIAL GUIDE***
Found this upon continuing with my fanfiction files clear-out, and decided to post it. Have always been interested in Alice's life before the Cullens – so I wrote this, exploring her life in the asylum and relationship with the 'fond, older vampire' who ends up saving her from James. Be warned – this story is drenched from beginning to end in cheesy romance. Just so you know what you're in for :)
Thursday. Early morning, crisp and bright.
The little raven-haired girl is screaming, her green eyes wild with terror. I watch Dan, my fellow asylum worker and one of the most unpleasant humans I have ever had the misfortune to meet scoop her up into his arms and half-carry, half-drag her away from her expressionless mother. I feel yet another, now familiar pang against my unbeating heart as I watch them through the misted glass of the first floor window. This place…sometimes, it is beyond words. The things humans do, and the lengths they go to…
"Mummy! Mummy, where are you going? Mummy? MUMMY?"
Tears are beginning to stream from her eyes as she screams; she's flailing around, kicking in Dan's restraining arms. I almost rip the window I'm leaning up against right out of its socket. How I loathe him, sometimes.
"Mummy, wait for me, I'm coming with you, wait, WAIT!"
But the mother doesn't wait. Her eyes are pits devoid of emotion as she turns without a second glance from the doorway and strides with her smart khaki coat swishing out behind her off towards the entrance to Blackwater Insane Asylum.
The girl is terrified. She can't believe it. She's sobbing and screaming and then choking as Dan claps a hand over her tiny mouth and tries to pull her back through the oak front door.
"No, no, NO!"
"Shut it, you!" Dan snaps, head whipping round in spite of himself. The neighbours complain enough about the noise from the invalids without the little girl's screams adding to it.
"Please, Mummy, please, I won't let it happen again, please -!"
He gives her cheek a sharp, brief slap.
I'm away from the window in a flash, a low growl breaking through my clenched teeth as I reach for the rusted brass handle of my bedroom door. No. This time, Dan's gone too far. No weeping child deserves that sort of treatment, even a human one.
I thunder down the rickety stairs three at a time and fling open the door leading to the hallway. Dan falters as I stride towards him, ancient floorboards creaking in protest underneath my stamping feet.
"Oh…uh, hey, Philip, I was just…see, little whiner's Mum was here just a moment ago, came and dropped her off properly in the lobby, but the she ran after her when she tried to leave, all crying and screaming, made it halfway across the driveway before we could catch her, so I –"
"Give her to me," I half-snarl, holding out my arms. The girl barely glances twice at me, still trying to reach the closed front door, scrabbling at the broken bolts with mousy-small hands, sobbing for her mother.
"Let me out, please, please, sir, let me out…"
"Give her to me," I repeat, eyes glowering down into Dan's small, watery blue ones. He bites his lip. Despite his arrogant manner, I know he has always been just a tiny bit afraid of me. And rightly so.
"Well, now, I don't know, Philip, Graham said –"
"I'll talk to Mrs. Graham. Give her here."
Dan sighs – then shoves the child away from him. The poor thing crumples to the floor, limbs folding puppet-like underneath her. Her tears are still streaming, face blotchy and pink-cheeked and buried in her doll-like hands. It's one of the most pitiful human sights I've ever seen – and I've seen a great many things in my life. Nine-hundred and twelve years next month, if I am to be exact. I have yet to meet a single nomad older. Not counting the Volturi, of course. I like to think I keep with the ages' customs, go with the flow more than they do.
But I digress.
The little black-haired girl; I bend down towards her and carefully– she weighs nothing, a bundle of feathers – scoop up her warm body into my arms. She lets me, which I'm surprised by, still choking out a few distorted words.
"Please, please, please, sir…I don't want to be here, Mummy told me, she told me all about it, all mad people and screaming and electric tr –!"
"Shh, little one, it's all right," I murmur, pushing none too politely past Dan and starting down the dimly lit corridor that's really in need of a good sweep. I hear mice skitter into their holes as I walk by them, hear their tiny heartbeats accelerate in fear, but they needn't have worried. Dan is in charge of the poison. Another job he has obviously skived off today…
"Please," the child still gasps out in her soprano voice, kitten's green eyes beseeching as they meet mine. "Please, please, please, sir, Mummy will be back, I know she will, just a few minutes, she'll realise she's left me behind, and she'll be back, she will, she will, she will…!"
Her voice breaks into sobs again, thin frame trying half-heartedly to pull away from me. I feel a pang in my unbeating heart of emotion I haven't felt in centuries – two, to be precise – for this tiny, lost little human child. What could she possibly have done – what form of dangerous symptoms could she have – that would make her Mother leave her in this god-forbidden place? I tighten my arms a touch, a frown creasing my features together. How could that woman leave a little thing like her here, human or no human? How could she?
How could anyone…?