Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.
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slowly editing! You'll see at the end of each chapter if th...
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Me and Killian eventually happen across an old farmhouse nestled in a clearing not so far from the holly berries. This has to be where the Wicked Witch is, considering this is the only thing close to livable that we've found. The white, two-story house sticks out like a forgotten ghost against the gray sky, its peeling paint and sagging porch a stark contrast to the vibrant snowy land around it. I feel the hairs on my arms stand on end, and I'm pretty certain it's not from the cold.
"Ever seen Texas Chainsaw Massacre?" I ask Killian quietly as we make our way up the creaky wooden steps.
"No," he whispers back, and I sigh heavily.
"I have," I mutter miserably, peering into the dirty windows. The decor is old, nothing modern in sight. Like this whole house was frozen in time. "Someone definitely lives here, but it doesn't look like they're here," I say, making my way to the far end of the wraparound porch.
"So why are we whispering?" Killian asks, but I feel another chill run down my spine when I spot a storm cellar a little ways away. Great. Nothing good ever happens in storm cellars.
"There," I say while pointing, not bothering to answer his question. He nods his head in understanding, and we make our way over. My boots crunch in the snow no matter how quietly I try to walk.
The rusty door of the storm cellar looms ahead, its decaying metal door battered by time—except for the new lock, gleaming unnaturally in the dim light, a stark reminder that something isn't right here. My hand twitches toward my gun, but it's not just the threat of the Witch that makes my pulse spike. It's the feeling of being watched... of walking into something we shouldn't.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest, and though my mind screams, don't, my body moves before I can think—my hand pulling the gun free, aiming for the lock. I'm shaking, but I don't know if it's the cold or the fear. I feel the cool metal of the gun in my hand, its weight a small comfort—until I realize I don't know what I'm doing. I've only ever shot a flying monkey, not a witch with magic. But if I don't act now, what's the point of having the damn thing at all? I clench my teeth, steadying my shaking hand. Get it together, Alice. This isn't a movie. This is real.
"Whoa! Wait, wait, wait." Killian stops me, grabbing my wrist that's holding the gun. I nearly shout in fear at his sudden movement. I furrow my brows, turning to look at him. "It's one thing walking around a deserted farmhouse. It's quite another descending into a one-way cellar with no way out." I lower my gun, nodding my head.
"Yeah, you're right. I've also seen The Evil Dead," I say, somewhat breathlessly. Mostly from relief. Now it's his turn to furrow his brows as he sends me a mildly concerned look.
"What in the bloody hell have you been watching the past year?" he asks.
"Movies," I say, as though the answer is obvious. I probably shouldn't tell him that, considering it might get back to Emma. She'd kill me if she knew me and Henry would watch horror movies on nights when she was working.
