One Word | H.S.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Follow me, lose your mind.

~

Wonderland.

~

I just threw my wine glass at the wall.

In my defense, I didn't understand how unprepared I was to learn about Matt's killer, Genie being the opposite of what I had expected.

When the eerie music began to narrow, draw out as the pitch decreased, both mine and Auggie's eyes splintered in anticipation, awaiting the desired information that had an agonizing build-up.

Every additional episode, furtherance of the series, we were both feverishly desperate to learn more with the passing seconds.

Auggie continues to nervously pace around the main room, his wild curls buried within his frantic hands as I shake my head in shock, unable to process the grand revelation.

The credits continue to roll on the screen as my mind rolls into sheer agony, betrayal being the only emotion felt as my wall drips red alcohol.

I can re-paint the fucking walls, but I'll never be able to coat my mind from the the downward spiral I'm embarking on.

Calm down. This is ridiculous.

Auggie dramatically drops to his knees, my body shooting as I walk towards the bottle of wine, continuing to drown my sorrows as I do. "Fuck Genie!" He screams into the ground, erratically banging the wood with his fists.

If the writers don't kill Genie off, I'll do it myself.

Some may say we are being dramatic, but I think we're being quite rational. Who even invented plot twists? I would appreciate a word with those assholes.

My hand grips the bottle, contents spilling from the harshness of my hold as I retrieve another wine glass, "I mean, really. I fucking liked that bitch!" My voice bellows throughout our shack, unable to control my rage any longer.

Between this tragic revelation, the tainted wall, and the night of violet that has yet to leave my brain, sobriety is proving to be more overrated.

At least it's not cocaine.

That night, a tranquil experience so-to-speak; A film. Replaying constantly in my brain, though a shade of purple films over the shaky video. A tape recorder, refusing to run out of battery as my eyes stayed glued to the nostalgia.

The passed audio is muffled, my ears stretching to even comprehend a single word, but I can't stop fucking watch it, replaying it. Nights of longevity, blundering thoughts per-say, have rid me of proper sleep.

Sent me into an awoken state of Wonderland.

My infamous mind, the simple Alice; Curiosity winning over the rational thought processes as I oblige to the seemingly psychotic hints of passage.

Tumbling down a rabbit-hole of peculiarity, I begin to wonder if I should've allowed myself to even inspect such a marvelous world.

The chilling Cheshire Cat, greeting me with a demented smile, internally knowing that I'll never be able to properly escape the twisted newfound reality.

Walking through a psychedelic forest of fascination, my vision begins to swirl as the Mad Hatter stands beyond the shrubbery.

A safety net? Oh, but of course not. The future of insanity rather, only lurring me further from the forgotten entrance.

Yet, with every trance-filled flower, every enchanted creature, exiting seems nothing short of unappealing.

The Queen of Hearts, the bearer of the forsaken love, holds the ability to cause complete and utter destruction as one may beg for mercy, squabble for desire.