The youngest wizard in twisted wonderland

Chapter 32: Riddle therapy!

Note: I DO NOT OWN TWISTED WONDERLAND: DISNEY!

Chapter 32: Riddle therapy!

Hey, dear readers! I'm back from my break and I've managed to post a chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

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I open my eyes slowly, as I feel something tap softly on my cheek. Looking up, I see an unfamiliar white ceiling. I bolt up, noticing that I am in an empty room, as all four walls are plain white. W-Where am I?

"Wolly, you're alive!?" Then I notice Wolly who is sitting on my shoulder... except that he is very much alive. He starts to tug at my hair to look to the side. When I do that, I see Riddle all hunched up — with his arms wrapped around his knees and his face buried in his lap.

Slowly, I get up to my feet and approach him. Wolly jumps down from my shoulder and runs towards Riddle. I crouch down in front of him and place a hand on his left shoulder gently.

"Riddle, is it really you?" I speak softly, wondering what is going on.

Riddle whips his head up towards me and backs away in shock: "W-w-why are you here?! And is that doll alive?" he stutters.

I think Wolly must have felt hurt by his words. He starts kicking Riddle in the shins, but somehow, they don't seem to hurt him at all.

"Hey! Why are you kicking me?" asked Riddle.

"Wolly, stop that! I think he's had enough." I try to reason with Wolly, but to no avail. Eventually, I just pick him up by the scruff of his shirt and remove him from Riddle.

Wait a minute, I remember now. I was consumed by Riddle's blot... Oh crap, does that mean I'm in Riddle's mind? How in the world am I gonna get out of this one?

Calm down, first things first, guess I gotta figure out how to get both of us out of here.

I place my hands on my hips and speak to him with a serious air: "Just for your information, Wolly is not a doll. Think of him as my assistant. And we are both here to help you. For all of us to get out of here, I think we need to solve what is eating away at you."

Wolly waves at Riddle cutely before hugging his leg as a greeting. Then Wolly starts patting Riddle down, as though he is trying to find something...

Riddle's eyes narrow in suspicion, as he asks me doubtfully, "How're you going to help me?"

I sit down beside him, "How about we start with why you are so obsessed about rules?"

But Riddle just sits there, sulking, not saying a word.

In the meantime, Wolly pulls out a black crystal from Riddle's uniform. With a pat, Wolly makes the black crystal that had been nestling in the palm of his paw disappear.

Suddenly, a colourless film screen begins to roll before us.

On the screen, there is a study room of some sorts. Two people are sitting at a large finely wooden curved table.

"Happy eighth birthday, Riddle. Your birthday cake this year is a low-sugar, high-lecithin cake made with soy flour and nuts!" cheers a woman.

It must be Riddle's mom; there is a strong resemblance. She places the bizarre-sounding, yet expensive-looking cake in front of Riddle the boy.

Is this Riddle's childhood memory? I think.

"Thank you, mama. But, umm, I... just once, I would've really liked a tart covered in bright red strawberries..." Riddle the boy speaks up hesitantly.