I was only eight when she told me.
My mother would tell me stories, stories beyond imagination, stories that blew my mind away, about tea parties and mad hatters and rabbits in waistcoats, and the Jabberwocky, and the Queens in battle. But the Red Queen was locked away, and the White Queen once again ruled. She talked about talking flowers and dragonflys that were little dragons and green pigs and talking dormice and the wonders of the world. I was destined to go into that world, and when I turned 15 I would be given permission to go.
But I'm not going to jump into that right now.
As a 13 year old, with being a teenage girl, with hardly no friends and girl problems, that all girls have, I was caught in a trap. I was an eye fixation for all guys, all my age, some older. I looked like the other girls, but with my tanned skin, dark brown hair and brown eyes, I was not something a guy would exactly 'ignore'. I looked more exotic than American. Technically, I was from New Zealand, with my mother Alice, she was from America, but my father, Matiu, was Maori, giving me the exotic Maori look. My friend, Whitley, came across as, well, a challenge. Flowing blonde hair, tanned skin (not as much as mine) and blue eyes, she wove her way into problems that were, not exactly easy to get her out of. Drugs, smoking, alcohol. It was a wonder I stayed around her. But I was her structure, and I held her up when she needed it. I wasn't a selfish bitch; I left Carrise Jades to do that.
"No, no way am I going to that party, Whitley; it's not my scene, you know that."
This, was where some of my problems began.
"Oh come on, Gracie, you need to get out. Mingle. Meet a guy or whatever, I don't give a shit, unless you do something than hole up in your room all weekend."
Whitley wasn't really the 'say no to' type. She says something people go with it. Not me. She hardly ever pushed me into things, but, obviously, that wasn't the case right now. She wanted me to do something that wasn't my style, but she was pushing over the boundary line.
"Come to the party, G! It'll be fun, like the other parties!"
"The other parties I have seen you come home from you are either high or drunk, yet you're only 13. Can't you get it? I don't want to go! My social life may not be like yours, but I don't want to build it up, seeing as I will be the one to break it down."
"Well, you are going to the party no matter what. Put on a fresh shirt, skirt, and a bra that doesn't look like unicorns and rainbows spewed on it."
"There is nothing wrong with my bras!"
"Put on the lacy white one you have in your drawer."
"I hardly ever wear that one, I only wear it when - wait, you went in my drawers?"
"This is no time for accusations! Get ready, I'll be there in 15!"
"Whitley, I - "
She hung up the phone. I sighed, and reluctantly got dressed, knowing that when Whitley turned up, she would dress me, and drag me out the door.
But then again, I didn't want to go. So I locked my house, given I was home alone, and sat, waiting for Whitley's tough fist to pound on the door.
It had been fifteen minutes.
Where was she? Was she fine? Did she assume that I wouldn't be waiting for her? Whatever it was, I was scared. I opened the curtain and scanned the street. Same old Chelsea Avenue. Nothing wierd about it.
25 minutes.
I was literally tearing my hair out. What? Can't she even have the decency to come. I sat down, convincing myself that she was partying it up with some older guy. It was the only thing that saved my sanity.
At school, there was a hollow air around everyone. And the scariest part was, I was the centre of attention. Everybody was staring at me. Some with tears in their eyes. As I walked past the emo crew, they whispered.
"She said her goodbyes to Whitley, I hope."
What. The. Hell.
I ran down the corridor, where the group of people where. On the ground, there was blood. A lot of blood. And it wasn't the scariest thing I had seen.
Whitley and her crew were hung by their clothes collars, blood dripping from their mouths, eyes, necks and noses. The girl next to me fainted, and I heard crys of fear.
The next year was worse, if that was possible. My mother was excited, for I was going to Wonderland next year. I was a bit excited, because it would get me away from here, and the stories my mother told me were so vivid.
Carisse is one of the worst people I had ever met. I swear, she knew what happened to Whitley. Her devilish eyes, her smirk that pushed people to their limits, and her iron fists that could knock you out in a second.
I, actually, had experienced that.
She could never keep away from me, blaming me for Whitley's death. When she would get a life, I don't know. But she didn't need to ruin mine. I was the one going to Wonderland, and she wasn't about to ruin my life.
Boy, was I wrong.
I opened my eyes, hospital needles and tubes sticking out of me, practically keeping me alive. I ran past the last memories before I blacked out. I was hit on the head, by Carisse. With a shovel.
Bitch.
*
On my 15th birthday, my mother was excited. My father wasn't as sure as she was, but, well, he's my dad. He didn't go rushing into things he wasn't sure of. Like the fact that his daughter was going to some far off land alone. But, I would be fine. A couple months self defense and I was amazing at beating up people and dangers. But he was still unsure. I mean, if I were him, I would look at all the dangers and see from there. My brother was drunk and high all the time, so I was the only one who could really go to Wonderland. I was excited, I must admit, that I was going to a far off place where I could be me.
My mother took me to the park, where the rabbit first greeted her. She was smiling, and I was smiling too. She showed me the rabbit hole, and the tree I had to wait at.
"Now Gracie, you must wait for the rabbit to come and get you. Otherwise the rabbit hole will just be a normal rabbit hole. Are you prepared? Wonderland is very different to our world." She lectured me.
"Yes, I am very prepared. And excited. And nervous. Is it possible for me to die in Wonderland?"
"Yes."
And I suddenly was afraid. I mean, who wouldn't be? After mother said it's possible to die in Wonderland? I just sat under the tree and waited for the rabbit to come and get me. He didn't come immediately, but I knew he would come. All I could do was wait for him. For all I knew he could be very busy, judging by the way mother described him. But after a few hours, I heard a rustling in the bushes where the rabbit hole was. I slowed my breathing, I had been breathing so fast. I prepared for this moment, the moment that the White Rabbit would appear and take me down to Wonderland. When something did emerge from the rabbit hole, however, I wouldn't exactly call it a rabbit. It was a pretty coloured rabbit, pure white, with big blue eyes, and a blue waistcoat to match. He had a golden pocket watch, and I saw him stare at the watch with big eyes, and hurried over to me.
He was beautiful.
Apart from the fact he was mangled.
One of the tips of his ears had been snapped off, and blood was trickling down the side of his face. One of his paws was coming off, one of his beautiful white paws was only hanging on by a few nerves. He walked with a limp, and one of his feet was broken, I could see the bone move with every step he took. He let go of the watch, and with his good hand, he beckoned me forward.
"Come with me to Wonderland, Gracie."
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PHEW! That took me a while to write.
Love me? Hate me? Comment? Vote? Fan me? If you're wondering why it's gory, read the naame of the story :)
Yours Horribly,
Mockingjay xx
