Malice in Neverland (Dark Fairytale)

Alice

"Dark inside my imagination" by Verona
***

An hour later I was seated outside a small café looking over Lake Michigan. I dressed myself in simple jeans and a green V-neck long sleeve shirt. I was going to slip my boots on until I remembered that they were shredded to ribbons at the strip club. I instead slipped on simple white converses although I was missing my boots.

I was still with my captors; the goons guarding the front door were now seated at a nearby table, pretending not to pay attention although I could feel their eyes looking to me every few moments. My only talkative abductor was seated across from me, casually sipping his tall black coffee. The smell of it made my nose wrinkle and I pondered how he could drink the bitter liquid without any cream or sugar. I loathed coffee in general, but even more so without it being heavily coated in those items. Those at least made it bearable to consume. The random occasion I would quickly down the terrible substance was when I was headed for a long shift at work. A breakfast of eggs, sausage, hash browns and toast sat in front of the man. He had an iPad with him and he glanced through what looked like another newspaper. Occasionally he took a break from eating to pay more attention to his meal that was now halfway finished. I watched his face void of emotion as he multitasked between reading and enjoying his meal.

I didn't think he noticed I was watching him until he spoke again. "Don't give me that look," he chastised without looking at me. "You could have ordered anything you wanted." He said this as if I were an unruly child that was choosing not to eat and this wasn't actually a hostage situation.
I stared at him and slowly raised my hand that was literally handcuffed to my seat. I couldn't run without bringing the heavy metal chair with me. The thought to try was tempting...
"My apologies," said the man with a rueful smile. Although, I didn't believe for a moment he was apologetic about the shackle. "I'm not going to make the mistake underestimating you and then discovering that you're as deadly as your sister."
"Excuse me...?"
"Coffee, tea?" offered the man politely, finally meeting my gaze. The man was polite for a kidnapper and well dressed. He sat looking quite the professional in solid black dress pants and a crisp white button-down that was tucked in. A matching black blazer fit him snugly to the point I felt he must have had it tailored to fit his muscled body specifically. He motioned with a large hand towards the quaint coffee and tea pots that had been left by our waitress. I ignored his offer.
"What do you mean just as deadly as my sister??"
Even Mr. Sauvé seated across from me smiled. "What did I say about stupid questions Ms. Carroll. Now, would you like some tea-"
"This isn't a stupid tea party," I snarled, causing him to smile.
"Language," he chastised gently.
"Screw this-"
"How is everything tasting?" said the voice of our waitress. Moderately attractive with dark hair and dimples, I noticed the black button-down shirt she was wearing now had a button loosened compared to the last time she had been at our table bringing the food.
"Excellent as usual, Carisa," said the man with a smile. "Thank you."
"Is there anything else I can get you right away...?"
I noticed how the word anything seemed used to interpret that she would be more than happy getting him something more to eat or drink. "I think he's fine," I chirp in, "but I would really love if you could get the police because I'm being held against my will."

The bodyguards who I was mentally referring to as Tweedle-Dee and Dum snapped their heads towards me with menacing looks while Mr. Suave stifled a chuckle. He either didn't care about what I said or he didn't feel the waitress would believe a well-dressed trio of men would be believable kidnappers. "Alice here is quite the character," said the man with a wry smile. "But no, nothing further. You've been fantastic as usual Carisa, thank you." The waitress provided a sweet smile and then bit at the corner of her bottom lip in a way that I felt was meant to be seductive. She slipped away without another word, not even looking back at me, completely oblivious that I was jangling my handcuff to get her to pay attention to me. It was only once she was walking away without a glance towards me that I spoke loudly. "Are you kidding me, lady? Do you not see the handcuff??"

"That was quite stupid, Ms. Carroll," said Mr. Suave calmly. He gently moved the jacket of a blazer to reveal a gun was in the holster that was attached to his hip.
"You're right," I said seriously. "Because if I sit and behave like a good little girl, you'll suddenly decide to let me go all on your own."

The man casually sipped from his tea cup. "Are you always this cynical?"
"Only when I'm kidnapped and held against my will." I stared around at the empty outside dining area. I was positively shocked that the waitress paid no attention to this ridiculous situation I was in. I half entertained the idea that even if I started screaming, she would simply ignore me.
"Do you make this a common occurrence?"
I grit my teeth and ignored the playful banter. "What kind of kidnapper takes his victim out to eat??" I demanded.
"The hungry kind," said the man, taking a delicate forkful of fluffy eggs.
I wanted answers. "Why did you call Wendy dangerous?"
The man took another slow sip while the two goons played on their cellphones. "Tell me about yourself, Ms. Carroll," said Mr. Suave, taking another sip of coffee. I said nothing. No part of me wanted this man to know anything about me. "Cat got your tongue?"
"More like shackle has my wrist."
He smiled before he scrolled through his iPad. "Are you sure you don't want to share...?" Again, I said nothing.
"I suppose there's no need, the internet gives everything away," said the man airily as he continued to scroll. "Which makes it all the more amusing that people cling to social media like a lifeline; completely oblivious to the information they're giving away. Let's see; graduated high school as the Salutatorian of Pella High," said Mr. Suave, causing my face to pale. Somehow, he had gotten information on me. "Would have been Valedictorian but you had two issues of tardiness that were held against you." He tsked. My face paled. The only reason I didn't get Valedictorian was because of Wendy. It was difficult trying to drag her from the bathroom every morning as she styled and primped herself to perfection, hence my tardiness given we shared a car and I couldn't leave without her.
Mr. Suave wasn't finished. "Iowa State graduate who did fantastically on her MCATS junior year of college but then dropped out of medical school your second year. Couldn't handle the pressure, huh?"
"How did you..." I trailed off, absolutely stunned. It was then that I realized somehow this man was able to know everything about me. I shivered.
"We have ways of knowing everything, Ms. Carroll. Evidently the identical twin story checks out, yours and Wendy's birth certificate confirms it. Alice Kingsley Carroll. Born six pounds and two ounces. You're older than Wendy. Were you named after a relative or was it just bad luck on the middle name?" His asking me that confirmed my sudden suspicion he already knew my grandfather's name was Kingsley and he was whom I was named after.
I had nothing to say. It seemed whatever he was reading from was a full-blown background check on me. My eyes were wide and I was having trouble breathing. "Dead parents as you said," he continued, "my condolences." He kept scrolling. "Oh, look at that, found the reason you are a med school dropout. You got married. There's even a news article that you two were high school love birds. Although it was a very brief union with the pastor's son. Wow, you even had a 'farm themed wedding'. How homey. You then filed for divorce less than a month later and you named 'irreconcilable differences' as the cause," the man paused to look at me. "performance issues?" he said with a knowing nod.

"Cheating," I said, not being able to make eye contact. This all felt too personal; too much information was being shared about my life without my consent. I felt my eyes welling with tears as I watched the table before me.
"Huh. Would have felt my guess was the accurate one. The hillbilly doesn't look as though he knows how to please a woman. Good for you getting some on the side."
I was stunned by the insinuation of whom he had considered to be unfaithful in the brief marriage. "Uh. He cheated on me." I don't know why I felt I needed to confirm that fact. I just didn't like the idea someone could ever look at me and assume I could break someone's heart as mine was once broken.
The man looked again at what had to be a photograph of Lewis and I. "Who would have thought?" He mused, "good for him, then." He finished his food, no longer commenting on my short and disastrous marriage. He finally noticed my look of disgust as he finished his food. He used a napkin to politely dab at the corner of his perfectly chiseled mouth. Mr. Suave finally looked at me. "My apologies, I didn't realize my comment would irk you. Looking at the toad he doesn't seem like he could get any woman let alone you."
I couldn't quite tell whether that was an insult or a compliment. "You have enough information about me," I said quietly. "I just want to know what Wendy was into out here."
"Your identity seems to have proven itself," said Mr. Suave, motioning at the waitress for her to come back over. He shot me a warning glance as if to tell me not to try anything further. If it wasn't for the fact that I couldn't be sure they wouldn't kill the waitress before she could notify the police, I'd have started screaming.
Miss flirty quickly arrived back at the table sporting the bill. She smiled politely while the man handed her four twenty-dollar bills that I was certain was far too much for how much the simple meal must have cost him. She smiled broadly when he told her to keep the change. "Thank you, Mr. Barrie, I hope I can see you tonight." My nose wrinkled for I didn't feel she was implying back here at the restaurant.

"I might be a tad preoccupied with babysitting. Raincheck," he said with a seductive wink. The woman smiled at him again as if enchanted before quickly hurrying away. Mr. Suave turned back to face me with a small smirk. "Ah yes, where were we?"
"I was asking about Wendy and you were probably getting ready to avoid my question yet again."
"Is that what you think I do; evade your questions?"
I simply shrugged at him. "Okay," said Mr. Suave. "Perhaps I've simply been sparing you the truth of your twin."
"What does that mean??"

"It means doll face, you wouldn't be able to handle the truth."
I ignored the blush that I adopted from the nickname. "I'm being held against my will until some mysterious flash drive is found. I've earned the right to know the truth."
Mr. Suave simply rolled his muscled shoulders as he finished his coffee. He stood, coming over to me and not speaking until he was face level. His blue eyes bore into mine as he watched me for a few moments as he undid my handcuff. My wrist ached once he unlocked it.
"Wendy Carroll is a manipulative and sadistic drug trafficker and assassin who became way over her head when she started her affair with my brother, Peter."

It wasn't until we were back inside the large black SUV did I find my voice again. I had ignored being led to the car while followed by the goons. His revelation had just stunned me to my very core. "Breathe, Ms. Carroll," said Mr. Suave as he text away on his phone as we were speeding out of the parking lot of the downtown restaurant.
I struggled to find my voice. It was only the two of us in the backseat while Tweedle Dee and Dum were up front. One was driving while the other rolled up a back window that separated the front seat from the back.
"I don't believe you," I finally said.
"Exactly which part did I lose you?"
"All of it. Wendy isn't a...a...drug trafficker! And she would definitely not start an affair with that monster from yesterday-"
But it was the laughter from Mr. Suave that cut me off. He shot me a look of surprise. "You believe him to be the monster?"
I stared at him. The man that I had though was a private investigator turned out to be a psychopath who spoke of hurting me as calmly as someone would talk of the weather. "He pushed me and threatened to hurt me. What do you call that?"
"A command. Peter is the one who gives them. I'm the monster that follows through with them."
I saw a quick glance at his neck and saw the black tattoo of a hook.
Maybe it was the look of fear that developed behind my eyes as he held out his hand as if to introduce himself.
"James Barrie; it's a pleasure."
***