Distorted Realities

I. Follow Me into the Rabbit Hole

~Continuation of description~

        The room itself was falling apart, cracks spider-webbed up the ceiling as parts of it began to crumble. Tables and bookshelves were turned on their sides, paintings and family portraits littered the dirty tiled floor. It looked like a tornado trashed the place. Taking another look around I noticed two wooden sliding doors in all their battered glory, lead into a large walk-in closet. The next door to the right was left wide open with darkness pooling beyond it's dirt covered threshold. Between the two, only one would more than likely expose me to deaths claws, but it was also my one way ticket out of this rundown living space.

I stood from my place on the floor grunting when my knees popped loudly in protest. My body was a mess of skin and bones, so weak and frail that even a small breeze could send me spiraling to the cold-hard ground. It's pathetic, but it's not like I could just waltz into some random gym and expect to get stronger in a matter of seconds.

I think I stood in the same spot for more than ten minutes already. My legs refused to move forward, fear coiled within me; anchoring my feet to the floor. But the darkness ahead called to me, it demanded my attention. I began to move at a slow pace inching closer towards what might just be my untimely death, but I guess if I do die—I should consider myself lucky. At least my hell would end.

My body shook with nervous anxiety as I braced my palms against the doors wooden frame. Flakes of chipped white paint fell like snow on a cold winter day as my hands slipped limply to my sides once again. My throat felt like sandpaper, each breath was harder to muster when I took that first step passed the darkened threshold. A single light at the end of the long hallway flickered to life, and beneath it a large, heavily damaged mirrior leaned against the back wall. Thick black wires hung loosely from the ceiling like streamers at a kids birthday party.

Bugs of all kinds crawled through the cracks in the walls surface; I've cringed more than once. Disgusting. As I walked I slowly began to realize that I've been walking down this hall for a while now, and I haven't covered much ground. Soon I was running, studying the walls and each painting I passed until one stopped me in my tracks. It was a simple painting to anyone else, quite beautiful too. But to me it was horrifying.

The painting was of this same hall, with the same light, and the same mirror. But standing in the middle of it was me, staring of into the distance ahead there was a woman blocking my full view of the mirror. Her hair was as dark as night, bulebell eyes seemed to stare right through me. Her face cut in beautiful angles, but one scar marred her pretty face; right across the expanse of her right cheek—the same one as mine. I jerked back so fast I ended up tripping on my one two feet, sending me straight to the ground. "There's no way that can possibly be real." I claimed breathlessly; I clambered back up, and slowly turned towards the end of the hall, and just like in the painting I was staring face to face with myself.

I couldn't move—I couldn't breathe. My mind was numb as our stare down continued. Though we were the same, this version of me was much healthier, probably much stronger too. The sight of her turned my body to mush. I've never felt so helpless—so weak.

She was everything I was not, she didn't have to go through the pain that I endured, and she definitely didn't receive that scar. "She isn't real. I am. I'm dreaming again, and this time I won't let it take advantage of me!" I screamed with a warriors battle cry breaking off into a dead sprint towards the girl that stood so still she seemed dead.

The second my thin body connected with hers I felt like I was passing through air. She disappeared from my grasp; eyes widening when the mirror surface began to warp as I fell through.

Then I was nothing—nothing at all.

"Scarlett. Scarlett...Scarlett!" My eyelids flew open as I screamed, bolting into a sitting position faster than any time before. New record. "I'm up! I'm up!" I squawked whipping my head in the direction of the voice. I don't know what I was expecting to see, but surely it wasn't this handsome hunk-of-junk leaning over me! He had beautiful copper almond-shaped eyes, broad shoulders and a study built body, shaggy brown hair, but what set me off was his unnaturally large hat. "Um...what do they call you?" I asked uncertaintly pushing him away with my my hand. He grinned, eyes sparkling like crystal he said, "Around these parts I'm Mr. Madness, but you my dear friend can call me Brooks!" His sing-song tone really irritated me. I don't remember the people in my head being this obnoxious.

"What do you want from me?" I bristled in annoyance. Mr. Madness, or Brooks I mean chuckled at my question like it was the worlds funniest joke, but in his case...he probably thought it was. After his cackling was reduced to soft giggling he spoke once more, "I sincerely apologize for that, it's just; you really don't know anything do you?" I smacked him once, then twice. "You have some nerve laughing at me. Just answer my question!" I yelled with such vigor, I'm pretty sure his entire body started quaking in what seemed like fear. I shook off the thought quickly and waited for his response. He blinked once, then twice. "Wait, you're serious?" He asked. I smacked my hand to my forehead. Just, who is this guy?

"Well, if you must know Scarlett you're presence here is critically needed to the White Rose Queen. I personally wasn't sent here to retrieve you, I was simply curious as to who you really were. Now that my curiosity is cured, and your question answered I should take my leave." I blinked, and he disappeared like he wasn't ever there to begin with. I stood and brushed myself off mumbling profanities that could make any sailor blush. I look towards the end of this hall, and saw what looked to be a simple hand mirror lying on the floor.

Reaching it was easier this time. The mirrior itself was about the size of my head, with an oval shape, and gold in color, a beautiful golden rose mounted on top. Looking into the mirror I didn't see my reflection—I saw a mostly barren wasteland of a room, painted completely in white even the furniture was the same. On the far left corner was a white hospital bed, unmade and sheets rumpled into a ball at the foot of said bed. It felt like I've been staring at it for hours—it seemed so familiar, yet I couldn't place where I've seen it before.

I gasped in realization; dropping the mirror in turn it shattered into a million pieces. It was my room. "I'm still dreaming." I whispered.

The glass shards beneath me began to quiver and glow a deep emerald color. They grew brighter with each passing breath, consuming everything in it's earthly light. I took a few steps back hoping I could escape whatever I've unleashed. But the light pushed and ate at the darkness around me until I couldn't see anymore.

Everything became that light. And I was nothing more than dust itself.

I prayed to whatever god still existed that I would leave this world unscathed, that no more mental scars could mark my brain. I prayed that I would never return. "Take me back. I want, I need to go back." My lips quivered as I spoke, "This world isn't real. I don't belong here." When I opened my eyes, I was laying in bed. A cold sheet of sweat on my forehead, my breathing labored and ragged. I was back in my hospital room.

I was back in my prison.