Silent Pantomime

Chapter 58 | Happier than happy

Chapter 58🌌:

There were strangers watching, and then their whispers turned into talking, and talking turned into screams. Everyone in Wonderland goes mad eventually, the best of us are, but you can go mad without losing your head. I hit my own head hard on the concrete steps, and could feel red sweat dripping from it and mixing up with the rain. I wasn't going to lose consciousness, because I felt too alive after destroying everyone's evening to pay attention to the destroyed girl of the high street. People ran near me to help or to get a closer look at the crazy girl, but Alice's Adrenalin kicked in and I started to giggle loudly.

People were shouting I had a concussion, when no, I really was just crazy. And crazy people laugh when their forehead is matching the colour of a dying red rose.

Not even dying actually, just dead.

"Never trust a man who sits uninvited at the head of a dinner table," I overheard Katherine say once on the phone to someone who could actually stand to be her friend. But I trusted The Mad Hatter, because sometimes they hide well, these rational, well-thinking people. Crazy, mad people can be the smartest in the room, and they think differently, maybe even illogically, but their answers to a question are the brightest. And who knows, maybe The Mad Hatter had his fair share of showing up to unbirthday parties uninvited.

So I laughed, because I trusted more in make believe fruitcakes than real life people.

"Miss, are you sure you haven't taken anything today?"

"Uhhhh my god, why do people ask me that every time I fall down and yell in the middle of a road? What's next? Wrath is written next to me on the pavement in bloody dog's blood?"

"No, but Die is."

I recognised that voice.

"What?"

When you consider things like the stars, where all humans look nothing but beetles to them, our affairs don't seem much in the scheme of things. But my life revolved in impressing the stars, because who knew what was up there watching, being impressed, being appalled, being star-struck. So after my little psychotic scene, my lips were sealed and I went back to silence, drawing myself out of reality for a second to stare at the blood on the ground.

My ears were ringing, and truth be told, even in the darkness the slight afterglow of the street lamps illuminated the red pool of all too familiar scratchy writing.

Die.

Die.

Die.

Unlike imagining the sins attacking me, or writing letters from them to myself - I knew for a fact I didn't write this. My thoughts had been well strung as I marched up the street and banged on doors mad as a hatter. Concussion or not, I had been very aware of my surroundings. Not once did I take the time to draw in my own blood that was gushing from my head.

The talking around me was stopped as I heard the familiar voice ring, "Everyone back up. I've got this, I know her."

I could sense everyone leaving, even though I was sat up, knees against my chest, twisted awkwardly in a tight sprawl, staring at the red on the ground. I wondered if I looked more like a firefly compared to a beetle.