Can I?

Alice's Scars

I remember the screams. They pierced that air with daggers and drew the blood of everyone that heard them. Just thinking of it now brings them back, echoing and dragging memories. Then I start seeing the face of the past that linger one. I would claw desperately at my blonde waves trying to stop those cries. But I can’t. I couldn’t stop the cries before; I can’t stop them now. And here they are haunting me and looping into my head creating a soundtrack that plays every second of my life.

            You know how certain aromas, feelings, moments just remind you of times that you thought you forgot? Like that moment when you are baking and you suddenly get hit with the memory of you and your grandmother sitting by the ocean? Just random memories like that? Well imagine that but with memories that you just want to throw away and burn.

            One time I got the flu. It was awful. But there was a cure. One time I had an enemy. She bullied me. But she moved. One time I had a challenge failed the test. But I just studied. And now I have my past that haunts my every thought. Imagine being tossed into a net and still being expected to work properly. A net that tightens every minute and wants you to choke. And you want to choke-you want the pain to be over with. But the net lets you go. It’s like a cat playing with a mouse. It just keeps attacking and attacking and attacking.and.attacking. Why won’t the cat just stop playing with the mouse’s fear and kill it already?

            I believe it was in English class when memories decided to take a stroll into my head and check up on me.

            “Alice was insane. It was clearly stated throughout the book. But why did she fit into wonderland?” My English teacher tried to begin a discussion in the class like always. She always exclaimed for an honors class that we talked less than the average classes. They all sat there with monotonous looks while scribbling everything that the teacher said. It did work, but that just showed that they all cared for the grade. I would raise my scarred hand, but I’m terrified. What if I had the wrong answer? What if I made a fool out of myself? She always said that as long as we had facts that we would be right. There was no wrong answer. There were just stupid ones.

            Her eyes skimmed over everyone before landing on mine. I automatically looked down which signed my death warrant. “Ahhh. May, I’m afraid that I did not hear your voice today. Do you want to answer?” But of course that was not a question. I just couldn’t say no. The torture of teachers. All eyes turned to be, blood rushed to my cheeks as I stammered. How I wish I could just disappear into the air. So I could just disappear into my unshed tears. I slid down in my seat as if that could save me from the threatening minds of others. “If you have any questions for the class about the novel then go ahead,” she added as if she read my mind.

            What would I ask? If the novel was good? Which I know everyone would exclaim no against my weak cry. So I just said what came to my head.

            “If Alice was recreated into our world how would the book be changed?” My weak voice was heard though throughout the dead quiet classroom. Now it was time for my ears to turn pink. Shit shit shit shit-and then the classroom erupted in discussion. That shocked me and  my teacher.

            “Would it be a rabbit hole?”

            “Would you apply technology?”

            “What if it was through a website that devoured her?”

            “I have a theory!” exclaimed one of the populars. So of course everyone kept quiet. Her laughing eyes twinkled as she twirled her perfect blonde ringlets.

            “Alice could have been in the car with her older sister. Alice was driving the car while her sister was reviewing for a test or whatnot. Which bored Alice to death. Alice grips the wheel tightly afraid because she did not want to let it slip from her grip-“ And that’s when she involved the class in a story. A story that haunts my life.