Alice looked up from her book, "What's your family like?"
"Why do you want to know? Really it's not like any of it matters" Hatter asked with almost a twinge of anger to his voice.
She pouted, "It's not fair that you get to know everything about my family and my past then go and keep yours a secret!"
Hatter frowned, "I never asked you to tell your life story… You just sorta jumped into it without ask'n if I cared" The thought hadn't that any of this was a big deal hadn't crossed his mind until he saw Alice's face. She was on the verge of tears, face filled with pure rage.
"It's not a matter of asking for it!" Alice screamed, "It's a matter of trust! I trusted you enough to tell you about everything, but I guess you don't trust me at all, do you?!" With that Alice stormed off onto to balcony, locking the glass doors behind her.
Hatter was left to talk it out with himself. "Trust? What's trust got to with a life story?!" He mumbled to himself as he put the kettle on. Tea always helps his head clear.
As the pot whistled, Hatter was lost in thought. 'Why on earth would I want to tell her everything I've done? It'd only make her hate me..' His thoughts were interrupted by Alice's heavy feet shuffling into their bedroom… Hatter knew he was sleeping on the couch tonight. The night came slower than normal. After an eternity of racking his brain for what Alice meant and trying to apologize for whatever he did wrong, night came with a heavy and uncomfortable sleep.
Everything came back to Hatter as he slept: His childhood home; his tattered clothes that his mum couldn't mend fast enough; even his best mate whom he's tried so hard to forget. It was all so real. The backwoods by his home were just as vibrant and green as when he was a boy. The house still smelled of fresh cookies and scones and fabric glue. He could even hear his sisters bickering in the distance. He knew this this scenery all too well. The best years if his childhood happened here, but so did the very worst. Suddenly, a young kid ran right past him. Hatter stared as a barely six year old him ran through the door, a strangely curved sick in tow behind him. He couldn't help but chuckle at his tiny self.