Fan Fiction ❯ White Rabbit ❯ Chapter 3

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

White Rabbit
by Marie Lesure/Odango In Black
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>She was never safe. They were always there, in the back of her mind, watching, waiting, knowing that the moment she made a mistake, they could pounce upon her weakness. A bright-eyed black cat trailing a helpless, hopeless mouse. A clever cat. No matter how close she was, she could never see it well enough to give it a face. There were, however, a few times when it's green eyes burned into the back of her skull, watching, always, always watching. And it's grin. Always grinning as it spat it's horrible images through her brain.<

The next three days were soaked in rain; the heaviness of repressed thunder swam through my veins. Anxiousness consumed my mind, and my thoughts crashed into each other as each tried to be the one focused on. More, new voices sang in my ears, harsher and rougher than the ones before. I hadn't been able to write, not because I had a block, but because I had too many ideas at once. There was a commercial on TV, and it made me wonder if I had ADD. I decided that I didn't.
Diana Cashler, MD. A girl of many talents.
I didn't remember dialing the phone, but I heard it ringing as the warm plastic pressed against my ear. When I breathed I could hear it echoed in the mouthpiece. With each ring, I grew more tense. Finally I heard her voice.
Hello! I recognized that tone. You've reached Katie Anders' phone! If you have a messa-
Fuck. I slammed the phone back into its cradle. The force of it stung my hand, and it made a sound like the black plastic cracked.
Ah, Katie. Katie was the best person in the world. I met her when I was twelve. We didn't get off to the best start - she thought I was a bit off - but within a week we became best friends. We'd been inseperable ever since. She was the first and only person I'd ever loved. She thought of me as a sister. I thought of her as a goddess. Her skin was soft and fair and smooth, her russet hair beautiful when it fell into her eyes and glittered in the sunlight. Honey eyes always sparkled, even in her saddest times, with love for her world, for her life, and for everyone around her.
I fell for her somewhere around our high school freshman year. I tried to tell her once, via an ambiguous note, but, unfortunately, she didn't quite understand. It was completely my fault; I suppose if I want people to understand me, then I should try to be a bit less vague.
Damn.
I finally worked up the nerve again our sophomore year, but, shockingly, she didn't go for girls.
Double damn.
It hurt like hell, but I can't say that I was surprised. Because of the fact that she was so understanding, that she didn't hate me, that or friendship wasn't ruined, makes me the luckiest person on earth. But since that day, I was a PG-rated whore. Dating around had become my thing, and they were all guys. Most were attractive guys, I admit, but I never really felt anything for any of them. All they were were distractions, things to keep me from thinking of her. Like turning off my emotions, it worked, for a while.
Then Brent came along, and it wasn't fun any more. Something about him just didn't jive with me. I was with him for about three weeks, until the lovely Valentine's incident. His problem was that he tried too hard. He tried to be funny, he tried to be sexy, he tried to be caring, but none of it ever worked. He was too annoying to be funny, too flat-eyed to be sexy, too horny to be caring.
He said he loved me.
He was a lying whore. Not that I really gave a shit what he thought. All that he wanted was to get up my skirt, until I started wearing jeans. Then all he wanted was to get into my pants. He didn't understand that I wasn't into that kind of thing. No, I was only up for it if I was cuddling with a girl.
Preferably one without a lot of makeup.
Of course, I doubted I'd ever find one.

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I once read about a man who stayed awake for a week. He started to hallucinate and his mood got darker. He never got better.
Maybe with me, it just happened backward.
I barely had the energy to flip through the TV channels. The changer sat limply in my hand, my fingers twitching around the plastic. It would be my eighth night without sleep. My body felt like it was dying, my mind like it was lost somewhere far away. I never slept. I never woke. I was caught in a nonexistent dream world of tea parties and mushrooms and grinning cats. The gates of reality had rusted; iron bars hung precariously from the edges of my mind, swaying in the wind. My creative wings had been amputated and I was left to squirm on the cold cement. A helpless dragonfly waiting to be stepped on, waiting to be relieved of its pain.
My thumb was glued in place on the channel up button and the glowing images swam through my head. It was the only light in the room. I watched my reflection in the screen and saw the pictures tattoo themselves on my face. My thumb went limp, and the mass chaotic strings of images stopped.
A girl stood on the corner of the sidewalk in the rain, an innocent umbrella floating above her head. It was white and made of oleander petals and milk. Her short black hair hung in front of her eyes, hiding her soul. She wore a long black skirt and a green jacket and looked like a thin leafed tropical plant sprouting from the cracks in the sidewalk.
As I looked at her and listened to the pattering of the rain, I was overcome by a deep, deep saddness.
I wondered if I could die from insomnia. I once heard a doctor in a movie say that you couldn't, but I don't think he'd ever had the problem.
My eyes rolled back into my head and I let out a long groan. I didn't know how much longer I could do this.
Maybe one of my parents had some pills in the medicine cabinet. I was too tired to bother getting up to look. I heard something come from the kitchen, over the sound of the TV. I halfway sat up and tried to peer in, but it didn't work too well.
Who is it? I asked. I heard a giggle. A giggle? I thought. Who the hell in this family giggles?
I dropped the remote to the floor and swung out my arm, trying to get leverage. After about six tries, I managed to stand up, although I was shaky. I called out again: Who's there?
Again, a giggle. It was pissing me off.
I stumbled into the kitchen and wiped at my blurry eyes. Someone was sitting on the counter, but I couldn't tell who. It looked female.
Mom?
No, it said. The voice was decidedly female. I rubbed at my eyes some more and shook my head. The figure became clearer.
It was a girl, probably aged around nine or ten. She held a blue cat in her arms. Her hair was long and blonde and it fell down her shoulders like floss.
Oh, fuck. Now I'm seeing voices, too.
Go away, I said. I don't want to see you.
She smiled, a smile showing all of her teeth. Her eyes scrunched closed with it.
I said go. Her smile faded and she looked sad, tears forming in her eyes.
But I want to play, she said, picking the cat up from her lap and placing it beside her. It turned itself around once and sat down, licking at its paw. It made a coughing sound. I could see its bones through the fur.
Tears began to course down the girl's face and she sniffled. The tears turned to blood, and her teeth to fangs. She jumped off of the counter and walked toward me. I stepped back, stumbling over my feet.
Get away, I whimpered. She kept coming.
I said get away! I screamed. But she wouldn't. With every step she took, I grew more panicked. I backed up faster, tripping over myself, screaming indiscernable things. I backed into the coffe table and fell backward. I crashed over it and to the ground, desperately trying to bat her away. She reached out to touch me, and her hand was cold. It turned my skin to ice, and I couldn't feel my cheek. I kept screaming. She spread her arms, asking for a hug.
No! I shouted. No! Get away from me! Get away! She leant forward, trying to hug me. As her arms wrapped around my body, she turned into a thousand tiny moths, and they swarmed over my body.
No! I pulled my shirt off, batting them away with it. I scratched at my skin. I had to get them off. When their feet touched me it burned. I could feel my cheek thawing. My throat burned with the screaming.
I heard footsteps, running footsteps. Somewhere in the back of my head, I heard a voice.
Diana, it said, Diana! Diana, what's happening? What's happening to you?
Get them off! I screamed. Beneath the moths, my skin was turning red and wet. It cooled the burning with a different pain.
It told me to open my mouth. I refused. The moths would get in. They were already crawling around my lips. I could feel the burning pattering.
My lips were pried apart, and the little bugs swarmed in, around my teeth, over my tounge, down my throat. Something small and smooth was put on my tounge, and then water, and my head was leant back. I spat some of it out with the moths. The rest I swallowed. I could feel the moths scurrying in my stomach. I wanted to vomit all the way from my toenails.
I still scratched at my skin and batted with my shirt. Something grabbed my arms and pushed me to the ground. I squirmed and kicked, and then something held my legs down, too. Tears were swimming down my face and I gasped for air.
My mother later told told me that she held me like that for about fifteen minutes until the Xanax calmed me down enough for her to let go. She asked me what had happened, and I didn't know.
I wondered if I would ever sleep again.

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A/N: Wow! I feel so proud of myself! People are actually asking me to update this one! Whee! *dances* So here you are, chapter three! This chapter, particularly the last half, I am proud of. Like the TV and the moth thing and such.
Hallucinations are creeeeeepy.