My Name Is Alice

Chapter 3

"Are you Alice?" The girl's small voice is shaded and fearful. Her disfigured hands which still contain cuts, are wringing out. Her frail, porcelain skin still has blotches of green and brown bruises splotching across her body. Soon, only a few moments later, they disappear. 

"Yes, I am Alice. Who are you, my dear?" Even though I control my curiosity of the little girl's eyes, my voice contains frightening contents within its tone. 

"I'm Gabby..." Her pupils flicker around behind me. "Why am I here?" 

Why would she be here if she didn't choose it? The question floats around my mind for three minutes solid before I shake my head. "Didn't you choose to be here, sweetie?" 

She shakes her head and then looks down while screwing up her eyes. "Well...I remember I was running and then he caught up...and..and..." she pauses. "I don't remember.." she trails off then looks back at me. "Are you here to help me?" 

"Well... I'm more or less company. How do you know my name?" 

"My grandmother told me that when I die, to ask to go to Alice." The little girl looks up at me suddenly, her eyes pierce mine in such a way that I feel pressures from all sides, her chilled fingers find mine. 

The scene, my reality, becomes nothing as a vision is placed in my mind. Somehow I'm thrown back into time, a day, a month, a year ago. Six months, three days, and ten hours ago. White walls, they're everywhere. Soft fabric is pressed against my bare skin but when I look down, I'm not in my own body.  I'm in someone else's. Much smaller than I. 

"Gabriella Della Roza, where are you?" A stern voice echoes from somewhere else in the room. My eyes strain to find the source, yet nothing comes. The voice is familiar to my being, my own soul. 

"There you- what have they done?" An old woman, suddenly comes into my eyesight. Her crippled figure is held up with an oak-scented cane. It has swirls and twists in the wood, naturally carved by whichever tree it was made of. Her hair is in a ratted mess on top of her head, some strands stick to her sweaty, olden skin. "Gabriella Della Roza, look at me." 

I've found my eyes have drifted to the left and I struggle to stare into her own dark blue eyes. 

"They will come and they will kill you. You're not like anyone else, you're different. You're odd, you're psychic. They will kill you and when they do, I want you to look for Alice. She is an old friend of mine but to you, she'll look quite young. Tell her I've scent you, and if she's confused, show her this moment, this conversation." 

I'm back in the vegetation and holding Gabby's fingers, which are entwined in mine. I can't help but stare at her. This is the first psychic child I've met. Of course I know the old woman but what role did she play in this little girl's life? I lick my cracked lips many times and swallow more. My throat has gone dry while my brain comes up with no words to say. 

"How old are you?" She asks, breaking the silence, biting her light pink, bottom lip. 

I glance around, knowing the spirits are now watching. From behind trees I see they're presences. "I am three-hundred and sixty-eight years old." My chest heaves in such a manor that the meloncholy expression from earlier threatens to overwhelm me once more but I push it quick enough that it leaves me alone. At least until I can have my thoughts to myself again. "Come on, Gabby. I'd like you to meet you're new friends; tonight is story night. Would you like to sit in?" 

"S-story?" her violet eyes brighten at the term. 

I can't help but let the corners of my mouth twitch upward. "Yes, it's my own turn and I promise it's a worth-while listen. How about it?"