Chapter 2 #3
That simple truth does little to calm the storm within me.
“It’s only the two of us now,” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper and heavy with silent fears.
Alice remains unmoved, enveloped in a serene slumber, her chest rising and falling with each gentle breath as if she hadn’t danced precariously close to the edge of oblivion.
“Not gonna lie, Malice. I’m hell-damned pissed at you.
Don’t you understand how much I need you?
” My legs tremble beneath me, and I crouch low, seeking a moment’s reprieve, a chance to steady my breath.
I rub the bridge of my nose, attempting to dissolve the tight band of tension that has gripped my brow, before pushing myself upright again.
“Can’t you grasp that I’d rather endure a thousand lifetimes in a world where you ignore me than spend even one fleeting second in a world without you? ”
A suffocating silence descends, pressing heavily against my chest until, after what feels like an eternity, Alice’s soft, husky voice pierces through the quiet. “You shouldn’t have threatened Nurse Lory. She’s nice.”
My heart leaps violently in response, almost escaping my ribcage, and breathless with relief, I murmur, “There you are, Malice. You gave me quite the scare for a moment.”
Her gaze is bleary and bloodshot, and I find myself longing for the sweet melody of her laughter, the radiant glow of her smile that could light up even the darkest days. “I didn’t mean to.”
Her voice is thin, choked. When a solitary tear slips from the corner of her eye, tracing a path down her cheek before disappearing into her hair, I suppress the urge to wipe away that wetness. Erase the sorrow festering inside her. “I know,” I reply, though my heart clenches with uncertainty.
But I don’t because Alice, while right here, might as well be a million miles away from me. She’s a stranger, someone who perceives me as a contagion.
She chokes on a soft sob, her voice trembling. “I… I wanted the pain to stop.”
I position myself on the edge of the bed, hating the way she stiffens and the way pain flickers across her features as she tries to turn away and escape.
Just two months ago, she craved my touch.
Now, she can barely tolerate my existence.
What gnaws at me the most is the fact that I haven’t done a damn thing to merit this shift.
That’s the bittersweet irony.
I’ve always held everyone at arm’s length. I’ve pushed them away, creating barriers strong enough to keep the world at bay. But Alice… For her, I carved out a special place. I offered her trust and my heart, and for one night, I held her surrender in my hands.
But suddenly the weight of her father’s death hung over us, breaking the fragile link that connected us. All the beautiful things she’d freely given to me were now rotting with Luther Knightly in his fucking tomb, where they would remain forever.
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t talk to me, but you could speak with Ivory,” I urge, my voice trembling with exasperation. “We would have listened.”
They’ve been best friends since we were kids. Ivory was the other person in our tight little friend group that Alice drew close to, and when Luther’s sickness became too much to bear, we tried to be there for her. But she wouldn’t let us and instead forced us to stand by while she suffered alone.
And here we are now.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”
Her anguished plea shatters me into a thousand shards of heartache.
I remove my top hat, placing it on the bed.
Her eyes remain cautious, fixed on me as I lean closer.
A whimper escapes her lips when I lightly press my mouth to her cool forehead, memories flooding back of our first and last kiss—a precious moment stolen in the maze behind her house.
That night had been… perfect. A fleeting dream beneath the moon and stars.
“Mad at you?” I lean back, my tongue tracing my lips, trying to chase away the metallic taste of Alice’s sorrow, regret, and guilt that lingers like ash in my mouth.
“I could never be mad at you. Never. Not even if you took a knife and plunged it right here.” I bring my palm forcefully to my chest, right over my heart, feeling its frantic beat beneath my fingers. “I’m the sorry one.”
“For what?” Her voice, so fragile and tinged with despair, cuts through the air. “You did nothing wrong.”
I tug at my messy, shoulder-length hair, pushing it back off my face in an attempt to gain some clarity. “To you, I did. To you, I’m a reflection of what you lost.”
My raw confession slices through the fragile air, and her silence is a harsh nod to the truth.
“Maddox…” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”
I shrug, the gesture meant to mask my hurt. “It was… bad timing.” Nature has a cruel way of fucking up our plans. I reach for my hat, positioning it back on my head, and then, with unexpected tenderness, let my finger glide along the delicate curve of her nose. “Get some rest.”
As I scan the dismal room one last time, my gaze settles on the vibrant display of flowers crowding the space—gifts from the McQueens, friends, all of us stitched together by the smallness of Wonderland. Yet, conspicuously absent is anything from her mother.
Some people truly don’t deserve the title of parent.
I pivot to leave, but Alice’s whispered plea halts me. “Wait.”
With my hand gripping the doorknob, I resist the urge to turn back. “What?”
A pregnant silence hangs, heavy and swollen, before she hesitantly adds, “After I’m released, I’m leaving.”
A wave of resignation washes over me as I close my eyes, the metal of the doorknob biting into my palm. “Of course you are.” The words come out strained, barely recognizable as my own.
Over our years at Hilltop, Alice painted vibrant dreams of attending Krobes Art Academy in Riverton, envisioning a future bathed in color as an artist. My ambitions were painted in much duller tones.
I saw my future as a dead end, stuck in an endless cycle of living two lives.
I pretended to be ‘normal’ while simultaneously allowing Roman to exploit my mania for his own gain.
However, I had also envisioned a future with Alice and me standing side by side as we grew older, her brilliant smile serving as the glue that holds my shattered sanity together. I have a broken image of that existence inside of me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, the sound a near-crushing weight. “But I can’t stay here.”
I force myself to open my eyes, determined to appear indifferent. “You do what you need to do.” I tear off the ridiculous guest tag, crumpling it into a forsaken ball.
“Tell me you understand.”
I shake my head with a terse finality, my voice low and unyielding. “Can’t do that.” Refusing to confront her gaze, I let the ruined tag slip from my fingers, falling to the floor like my hopes.
I pull the door open and feel her voice reverberate in the air. “Maddox…”
I stop, frozen in place, unwilling to turn back. God forbid she sees the betrayal of my tears.
“Please tell me you don’t hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” The words scrape out from between clenched teeth, and despite the turmoil within, that’s a truth I cling to.
I don’t hate Alice Knightly.
Hating her is the furthest thing from my heart. My love for her is a raw pulse, an ache so profound it burrows deep within my very being as I step from the room.
“Goodbye, Maddox.”
Alice’s pained whisper trails after me like a foreboding storm cloud, heavy with finality. This time…
…this time, I know it’s a forever farewell.