Chapter 24 #2
Then again, if he learns too much about me, I’ll have to run again. For his safety if not mine. But maybe a few truths wouldn’t hurt? Plus, I do need to find out more about him.
I ignore the prickle of guilt at that last thought as I turn on the loveseat to face him straight on and ask, “Secret for a secret?”
He goes still, appraising me. “Okay. But we both get veto power.”
Ooo, curious. What are you hiding, Mr. Hatter?
“Absolutely. But if you pass, you have to answer the next question.” The familiar rush of information-gathering steadies me. If this is how I get answers out of him, so be it. “I ask first.”
“Alright.” He nods and nonchalantly spreads his arms along the edge of the loveseat—which should not be as hot as it is. “Shoot.”
“Why are you here? Like... really here?”
He pauses, twisting his lips, and I huff. “The truth, Hatter.”
He nods once. “I lost my girl.”
My chest thunders as he continues, “We were supposed to be together, but… I had to give her up.”
I wait for more, but it doesn’t come. “Did you… did you love her?”
He smiles softly. “Now Alice, it’s my turn.” He leans forward. “Why do you really hate syringes?”
I swallow. Whelp. Walked straight into that one, didn’t I?
The word “pass” is on the tip of my tongue, but who knows what he’ll ask next that I’d have to answer. Besides, I have a feeling I’ll never get anything more out of Hatter if I don’t give something in return.
“Alice?” He stills my hand, concern in his voice as he looks down. I follow his gaze and gasp. I hadn’t realized I’d been scratching the crook of my arm, but there are long red grooves where my nails nearly broke the skin.
“Alice,” he asks more gently. “Why are you afraid of syringes.”
I take a breath.
“Because… they were used on me,” I reply quietly. “Several times. Over several days.”
The heavy silence is so oppressive my breathing turns shallow.
“They were… used on you,” he says slowly, every word deliberately spaced, with dark, deadly ruthlessness laced underneath.
“Your turn.” My voice is barely steady as I try to wrestle the conversation back under control. “Did you love her?”
He scans my face. Almost more than anything, I wish I could see his. Can he read me through my mask? Do I want him to?
“I think I could have,” he says softly. Then, before I can follow up, he reiterates his question. “What does ‘they were used on you’ mean?”
I swallow. “You know what it means.”
“Alice,” he growls. “That’s not an ans—”
“They needed me compliant. The drugs did that.” I exhale. “I don’t know what I was shot up with, but it didn’t get me addicted, thank God.” I shrug. “But that’s why I hate syringes.”
His jaw tics so hard, I hear it pop. “And who is they?”
I try to ignore the dangerous warmth blooming in my chest over someone caring this much. I know my parents would care. I know that. But trauma is a weird, funny little liar, and right now my mind races, wondering if this Hatter in front of me could have saved me back then when they couldn’t.
“My turn,” I say softly. “Why do you think you could have loved her?”
He’s still reeling—I can see it in the set of his hard jaw and the way he rubs his five o’clock shadow. Finally he exhales.
“She made me feel… settled, and no one’s done that before.” I frown, and he sighs. “My family—we’re weird. We have this belief when you find your person, the universe sort of clicks for you. They become your peace. My mom was my father’s peace.” He swallows. “Before she died.”
My chest squeezes. “Oh, Hatter. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago. But he’s never recovered.
” He shakes his head slowly. “That’s the cruel part of it.
After we lose our person, we’re just… restless.
My family’s always been a mad bunch. We all need someone to bring us to earth.
Someone to harness the—the madness, I guess.
When that peace is gone, madness is all that’s left. ”
“That sounds… romantic,” I smile sadly. “In a heartbreaking sort of way.”
He gives me an appraising look. “Yeah. Romance, tragedy, thriller. Pick your poison I guess.”
I laugh a little. “Which one was it for you?”
He shakes his head, and his voice hardens. “What did your parents do to the people that hurt you? That needed you… compliant?”
The word thickens the air.
I bite my lip and sit on my palms to keep from scratching. My right leg swings back and forth over the edge of the loveseat.
“They don’t know who he was.”
“They don’t know?” he all but shouts.
“Hatter,” I warn.
“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “But how the fuck could they not know?”
“They know the parts they need to know.” I shrug, though it hurts to use such casual body language. “That… that wasn’t an important part.”
“Alice, how is that not the most important part—?”
“Because I took care of it myself.”
The words fall into the room and just… sit there. His mouth closes.
“What does that mean?” he asks carefully.
I laugh, though it comes out more nervous than anything. “I think that’s about three questions too many. My turn.”
I lift my right leg up onto the couch to wrap my arms around it and rest my chin on my knee.
“You said you could’ve loved the girl.” My chest squeezes for no reason, and I push it away. “What stopped you?”
“Screw the game, Alice—”
“I’m done with that line of questioning, Hatter,” I snap, shaking my head. “No more.”
He looks like he bites clean through his tongue, but he nods. Then he closes his eyes.