Unforgettable Alice

A-L-I-C-E, I carved the letters of my name for the 165th time. It etched deep into the belly of the rocks that surrounded me. Engraving itself into the history of the walls, the bones of this prison. The stones would stand etched and marked, unable to forget my name.

When I was younger my mother read me Alice in Wonderland at least a million times. It was her favorite story as a child. I think at some point I believed I was Alice, trying to embody everything that my name was supposed to represent and be. I used to daydream about falling down a rabbit hole on a grand adventure. I wished I would get whisked away, hidden from my family. I would daydream about no one being able to find me until I was done, imagining the Cheshire cat was just waiting just around the corner for me to figure out how to get back to him.

Boy the irony of that dream was all too real now, I guess I should have been careful what I wished for. The small cell that he held me in was only big enough for me to lay down. The ground was hardened and bare, coated with rocks and dirt, except for the small thin blanket I had been so kindly given. The four walls surrounding me were made of stone expanding a significant length above my head. It was dark, save for the small slats in the wooden trap door above my head that shown in the light during what I could only assume was the daytime.

I don’t know how long I had been here; time passes by differently when you have nowhere to be, no one to talk to, no one who cares. I had started writing my name out in the rocks to mark the passing days, but I was off a few for sure. The first few days of my captivity where a blur. I faded in and out of sleep only remembering small bits of how I got here.

I was at the mall when he snatched me, typical right? A young girl walking through the dark parking garage, just like my mother warned me not to do. I didn’t listen though, my driver’s license and newly gifted silver Acura said I was invincible. I had met my friends there to prom dress shop, all I had left to find where my heels. My beautiful pale blue dress had been tucked into my closet for weeks waiting for the night I got to step out in it. The highlight of my junior year had been right around the corner. I never thought I wouldn’t be there to attend.

He showed me no kindness, quickly grabbing me by the back of my hair. I didn’t even hear him coming. I didn’t stand a chance. The chemicals he pressed to my face quickly destroyed my stream of consciousness before I could even scream or fight. The last thing I remember is wondering if anyone would be able to find my keys. I had watched them skitter across the parking lot and land silently right down a drain. Would they even know that I had been taken?

I don’t know how long it took us to reach my destination, it felt like minutes and hours all at the same time. I had awakened for a few groggy moments to realize I had been stuffed into a small trunk. The ropes that held my feet and legs dug into my skin. The burning sensation causing me to pant and weep. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry for help, but opening my mouth was futile. I was out of it just enough that my voice betrayed me. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move, the silent tears streaming down my face were the only part of my body that was still in control.

When we finally stopped, and he pulled me out of the trunk he drug me roughly by the legs. My shirt ripped and become tangled with stickers and burrs. The small rocks protruding into my skin made my flesh feel like it was on fire, and I prayed that wherever I ended up I got there quickly. By the time he approached the big red barn in the middle of the field my skin had become so raw from the debris I could no longer feel the pain.

The barn was nothing like the one I dreamed of as a little girl. An old, faded grey instead of a beautiful bright red. The shutters were falling from the windows. The musty dirt smell that emitted from it was nothing like the smell of fresh hay. There were no horses, no cute little ducklings, no sweet little children running and jump climbing up to the loft. This barn was a perpetual hell.

He hoisted me down into the hole that would become my home hastily, undoubtedly fearing wake up enough to start fighting him. He climbed back up the small rope ladder and as he was pulling it to the surface out of my reach, he told me exactly what he needed to say to make my heart crumple in my chest.

“No one’s going to remember you” he said. “Nobody even cares where you are.”

He would send down small tokens of food and water just enough to keep me alive, but weak. I ate ferociously for the first few weeks, thinking that if I were to survive, I needed to keep my strength up. With each of my dinner meals came a tiny blue pill, one he forced me to eat. I tried to refuse once, and the cattle prod he poke me with ripped through my skin and caused so much pain I sat huddled in the corner of the cell until the pill drug me into a deep sleep.

I wish I knew what he wanted; I wish I knew why he shoved me down here to keep me like this. I wish I knew how long I had been here. According to the marks on the walls I had been here approximately 1/3 of the year. Long enough for people to stop looking, long enough for the world to stop caring, long enough for people to presume I was dead, long enough for me in fact wish I was.

I tried for a while to reason with him, make him see me as human, like all they tell you to do. I told him about my little sister Charlotte and how her hands were always sticky, how she laughed when I picked her up and spun her around in a circle. That next year I was supposed to be a senior, how I was going to graduate, and maybe one day I would be a journalist. He would cock his to the side, underneath his gruesome pig mask, and seem to harbor a small amount of interest. Not enough to let me go, but he would listen to me ramble and just slide down the basket full of my food and close the lid without a word.

I had often wondered if I would ever see his face, if I would ever make it past his deep amber eyes, or if I would ever know the man who held me captive. It wasn’t until the day I became so fed up with his lack of interaction that I screamed. “They’re going to find me”, I spat, “and when they do, you’ll rot in jail. You will sit in a cell, and NO one will care where you are.” He sat and watched me growl and scream and spit and hit the rocks that had become my prison. I chanted over and over “They’re coming, I know they’re coming.” When I had given up, collapsed into the corner, snot trickling down my nose, my sobs coming in ragged breaths he once again cocked his head to the side. I watched him with horror as he slowly slid the mask away from his face revealing what he looked like. He wasn’t afraid anymore, he wasn’t afraid someone would come for me, he wasn’t afraid I would get out. He knew he had won; he knew it was over, and he had nothing left to hide.

He became careless once he realized I had given up. I had become his shell, his toy to feed and medicate, I wouldn’t fight, I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t beg. He started sending down the food and pills and didn’t even bother to watch me take them. He would just return, open the hatch, and make sure I was sound asleep for the night. I realized he gave them to me so I couldn’t escape. So, he could sleep soundly without worrying that I would wonder off. I collected them for days, scooped into a small pile, a small pocket in the rocks becoming their home. It was those pills that would become my saving grace, those pills would take me home, just like the treats, the potions, the cakes in Alice in Wonderland. She found her way home and so would I.

It was a strange feeling knowing that I had some semblance of control. That I could decide when I would leave, if I would leave, and he had no idea. He couldn’t stop me; he couldn’t keep me prisoner anymore. I wouldn’t let him win.

The night before I swallowed the pills I dreamt of my family. I dreamt of the days we would cook dinner, the quiet movie nights, the parental arguments. I dreamt of what Charlotte would look like when she was grown. I dreamt of the children I would never have and the nieces and nephews I would never get to kiss, to hold, to spoil. I dreamt of days I took for granted out at the lake, the beach vacations. I dreamt of my mother reading me Alice in Wonderland for one last time.

“I hope you rot in hell”, I said quietly the next morning as he started down at me. He lowered my rations for the day, and I emptied the small basket one item at a time. I did it slowly, deliberately thinking this would be the last time you’d ever lay eyes on me. I grabbed an apple, wound my arm back and hit him dead center in the middle of the eyes. “Screw you,” I thought. I had never hated anyone more. He slammed the trap door above my head forcibly grunting and I heard his footsteps retreat.

I sunk down into the ground, my tears forming pools in my eyes and I pulled out the pile of tiny blue pills. I counted them, thirty-seven in all, I didn’t even know what they were. I wondered how long it would take, if it would be quick, if it would be painless. Nothing could hurt as much as this.

The sun started to fade, and I watched the light slip away from the slats retreating this hell back into darkness. I swallowed the pills one by one thinking of how today would be the last day I would ever see the sunshine.

I felt the world slipping away from me quicker than I thought it would. I would be home soon, and safe, no more hell would await me. It was then that a light above me became so bright it hurt my eyes, causing me to shut them tight and I thought this is it. The blood curdling scream jolted my eyes back open! My mother was calling my name MY name, she remembered me, she knew I was here. I sighed, feeling comfort in my chest finally, for the first time in weeks. My eyes drifted into the corner of my cell I swore I saw an impatient rabbit tapping his stopwatch. I’m coming I thought, I’m coming home.