Her name was Alice. She lived in the Blue Room in the attic, alone to ponder her own thoughts. The Blue Room was a comfortable room, with a nice view of the Admiral's backyard, where his two daughters liked to play tag and trip over their own feet. Alice favored the red-head of the two, the one far more curious and daring, but could barely remember her name. She'd known they were both named from flowers...
No matter. Alice had more important things to do. She had to prepare, because the scribes would be back for more story soon. Alice plopped down in a red armchair, lifting her feet up and snuggling into the side. She closed her eyes and let her imagination overwhelm her.
Oh the places she would go if Lewis hadn't locked her up here. Lewis had been her sweetheart for a long time. He'd expressed interest in the book Alice had been writing, a child's book filled with stories and morals converted into childish tales of a girl in a fantastical land. Lewis himself was the son of a rich Admiral, and desperate to impress his father. Lewis was terrible at grades, though incredibly intelligent. He'd never been a good fighter so the military chucked him out after grade school. His father was so disappointed he wouldn't even have Lewis in his house. Alice had been in a cafe on the street corner in North Carolina when Lewis found her. She was writing over a cup of tea, scribbling down a tale about the Mad Hatter when Lewis, who was an extremely good looking boy, wandered in. Lewis, catching her eye, moved into the seat next to her at the bar, and began asking about her book. Alice was delighted about the interest. She very quickly fell in love with Lewis. She'd shown her mother and father the stories, who lived in Tennessee, but it was hard to communicate at such a distance. She had moved down to North Carolina to be a journalist anyways. Lewis coaxed her to take a train to South Carolina with him after they began seeing each other romantically. Then one drunken night he'd locked her up here, and forced her to write out stories under his name. Finally, Lewis's father came round. He took pride in Lewis's claimed success as a writer. He even gave Lewis this house, and a lovely wife who already had two daughters. That was two months ago. She didn't know about Alice though. She was often out and never with Lewis. Alice had seen her arm in arm with another boy before. Alice didn't think Lewis cared. He had a string of lovers as well, but never very successfully. Alice heard his wife shouting at him once, calling him a "knave" of hearts. She was quite a ridiculous woman.
"Alice?" There was a slight knock on the door. The voice was rough and masculine. Lewis back to make more advances or something, Alice didn't really care. She was so sick of him. So sick of this Blue Room. She wished she could escape, just like the little Alice in her tales...
"Alice," Lewis pushed the white-washed door open and stepped inside. He looked gaunt, stricken. His normally well kept brown hair was pushed messily back. His strong jaw was half-shaven, his eyes shadowed and his clothes rumpled. Blue eyes stared brightly at her. Alice, though she tried to hate him, noticed he looked quite handsome this rugged way. Tan, and strong. A long black trench coat reached the tip of his boots, a dirty white button down loosely crumpled beneath his jacket. "They're coming. I'm so sorry. I never should have done this."
Lewis stumbled into the room drunkenly, reaching his arms for her. She saw his knuckles were wrapped in white cloth, bloodstains peeking through. Instinctively Alice backed up, feeling the small of her back hit the windowsill.
No matter. Alice had more important things to do. She had to prepare, because the scribes would be back for more story soon. Alice plopped down in a red armchair, lifting her feet up and snuggling into the side. She closed her eyes and let her imagination overwhelm her.
Oh the places she would go if Lewis hadn't locked her up here. Lewis had been her sweetheart for a long time. He'd expressed interest in the book Alice had been writing, a child's book filled with stories and morals converted into childish tales of a girl in a fantastical land. Lewis himself was the son of a rich Admiral, and desperate to impress his father. Lewis was terrible at grades, though incredibly intelligent. He'd never been a good fighter so the military chucked him out after grade school. His father was so disappointed he wouldn't even have Lewis in his house. Alice had been in a cafe on the street corner in North Carolina when Lewis found her. She was writing over a cup of tea, scribbling down a tale about the Mad Hatter when Lewis, who was an extremely good looking boy, wandered in. Lewis, catching her eye, moved into the seat next to her at the bar, and began asking about her book. Alice was delighted about the interest. She very quickly fell in love with Lewis. She'd shown her mother and father the stories, who lived in Tennessee, but it was hard to communicate at such a distance. She had moved down to North Carolina to be a journalist anyways. Lewis coaxed her to take a train to South Carolina with him after they began seeing each other romantically. Then one drunken night he'd locked her up here, and forced her to write out stories under his name. Finally, Lewis's father came round. He took pride in Lewis's claimed success as a writer. He even gave Lewis this house, and a lovely wife who already had two daughters. That was two months ago. She didn't know about Alice though. She was often out and never with Lewis. Alice had seen her arm in arm with another boy before. Alice didn't think Lewis cared. He had a string of lovers as well, but never very successfully. Alice heard his wife shouting at him once, calling him a "knave" of hearts. She was quite a ridiculous woman.
"Alice?" There was a slight knock on the door. The voice was rough and masculine. Lewis back to make more advances or something, Alice didn't really care. She was so sick of him. So sick of this Blue Room. She wished she could escape, just like the little Alice in her tales...
"Alice," Lewis pushed the white-washed door open and stepped inside. He looked gaunt, stricken. His normally well kept brown hair was pushed messily back. His strong jaw was half-shaven, his eyes shadowed and his clothes rumpled. Blue eyes stared brightly at her. Alice, though she tried to hate him, noticed he looked quite handsome this rugged way. Tan, and strong. A long black trench coat reached the tip of his boots, a dirty white button down loosely crumpled beneath his jacket. "They're coming. I'm so sorry. I never should have done this."
Lewis stumbled into the room drunkenly, reaching his arms for her. She saw his knuckles were wrapped in white cloth, bloodstains peeking through. Instinctively Alice backed up, feeling the small of her back hit the windowsill.