I’m flying, or floating. However you want to look at it, my feet aren’t touching the ground. I have no idea where I am for a moment, only knowing I feel like I did in the Hereafter. I feel light. I look down in panic and see that I’m whole, but the feeling is still there. I’m floating about a foot from the white and black checkered ground, hovering. I glance around me and realize I’m in the same spot I landed when I came down the Rabbit hole. The table with the Drink Me teacup and Eat Me candy is sitting in the middle of the room. It’s the exact same as when I arrived, minus the human skin tablecloth.

A childish scream fills the air when a little girl falls from a portal that opens in the ceiling. She lands hard on her tailbone. I grimace, knowing the pain. As she sits up, terror in her eyes, I make the connection. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and blue and white dress, I’m looking at the original Alice. This must be the first time she fell into Wonderland.

“Hello?” little Alice calls, her eyes looking right past me.

“Can you see me?” She doesn’t respond to my question, so I guess there’s my answer.

She walks over to the table and stares at the key, curiosity filling her gaze. She picks it up, storing it in a pocket before taking a sip of the tea cup. She shrinks before my eyes and slips through the smallest door. The key opens it.

The world swirls suddenly, and I’m no longer in the Rabbit Hole. I’m sitting at the Mad Hatter’s tea table, a guest that no one can see. Alice is sitting at the table along with Dormouse and March. Dormouse and March giggle and toss food back and forth. My eyes find the hatter and stick to him. He looks so happy and carefree, even if there’s still a touch of madness there. He’s absolutely beautiful as he smiles at little Alice, his gaze open. I lean closer to him as they all laugh and trade jokes. Even emotionless Dormouse joins in, his face smiling and kind. March tosses a teacup in the air before throwing something at it. The porcelain shatters across the table. Alice laughs and claps her hands with glee.

“Alice,” the Hatter laughs as he tosses another teacup in the air. Alice shoots it with a sling shot, exploding more shards onto the setting. They all clap and cheer.

I’m reaching out to touch the Hatter when the scene changes again.

I’m outside a castle in a beautiful garden, one I’ve never been to before, but it’s bright. The castle glitters like a jewel under the sun. I watch as Alice runs giggling from the hedges, a blond boy chasing after her. Their laughter is innocent and filled with friendship. There’s three other people in the garden, all with crowns sitting on their heads. One woman is dressed completely in white, her crown studded with white diamonds. Her skin is pale, her hair even paler. Her eyes seem to lack color. She’s watching Alice warily. The other two people watch the two children play with smiles on their faces. A man and a woman. I immediately connect them as being the original King and Queen of Wonderland.

“What do we know of this child?” the White Queen asks, a frown upon her face.

“She’s just a girl.” The King waves away her concern. “Alexander seems to like her. Let them play.”

“I don’t like it.” The White Queen worries her bottom lip as she twists her hands together.

“Calm sister,” the Queen ushers. “Everything is fine. She’s just a fanciful young girl. What harm can she do?”

The children giggle again from somewhere in the hedges, and I move towards the sound.

“I’m going to find you, Alexander,” Alice’s young voice calls. The boy giggles from somewhere else in the hedge maze, hiding from her. They must be playing hide and seek. Alice doesn’t seem too concerned with finding him, strolling along the hedges, her fingers trailing in the leaves.

A chipmunk scampers from the bushes at the disturbance, and Alice stops, falling to her knees before the creature.

“Come here,” Alice whispers to it, holding out her hand. “Come on.” The chipmunk takes a few hesitant steps towards Alice, sniffing her fingers. “That’s it, little chipmunk.”

The little thing climbs into her hand, and she squeezes her fist, trapping it. The chipmunk squeals, and I flinch at the sound, taking a step back. Screams of terror are coming from her fists now, where the chipmunk fights to free itself, scratching and biting at her palms, but she doesn’t release the poor thing. Instead, she grips him in both hands and twists, a sickening crunch making my stomach roll. I force myself to watch as blood wells from between her fingers. She grabs an empty pot and catches the bright red liquid inside. When the flow slows, she tosses the lifeless body of the chipmunk into the hedges and runs from the maze.

“Your majesty,” she calls, smiling. “I found some paint. Can I paint some of the roses red?”

The Queen giggles.

“Such an imaginative young girl,” she coos. “Go ahead, dear.”

The White Queen stares at the blood before her eyes flick up and look right at me. I stumble backwards.

The colors swirl.

I’m back at the Rabbit Hole again, staring at the white and black checkered floor. Everything has a darker feel to it, like night has fallen inside. When Alice falls through the portal this time, she doesn’t scream. She lands on the floor in a crouch, the tiles cracking beneath her. When she looks up, I freeze. Her hair is still blonde as corn silk. Her dress is still blue and white. But this time, it’s covered in blood. So much blood is streaked across the dress, her face, her arms. She’s much older, in her thirties maybe, close to my age. She stands and stomps towards the table, scattering everything to the floor. The teacup shatters, spraying the liquid across the tile. White runs from behind a curtain, his clock ticking away. There’s fear in his eyes as he runs.

“Fuck!” I hear him mumble as he rushes past me. He’s moving so fast, I barely see him transform into a white rabbit and disappear through a door.

“Come back here, White!” Alice screams in rage, storming after him. There’s a large bloody knife in her hand.

Colors spin, and I’m staring at the Hatter’s house as he steps onto the porch. Worry wrinkles his face as he stares at Alice. She stands in front of him in the grass, watching. White is leaning against the railing, his ears twitching nervously. Cheshire sneers at Alice, his tail swishing back and forth in agitation.

“What happened to you, Alice?” the Hatter asks, his eyes glancing at the blood drip, drip, dripping from the knife. It’s fresher than the last time I saw it.

“I grew up,” she snarls, taking a step forward. There’s only ten feet between them. “When you abandoned me to the woes of reality.”

“You’ve lost your muchness.” Hatter frowns at her. Cheshire tenses from his position, his claws sliding out from the tips of his fingers.

“No,” Alice replies, stalking right up to him. He doesn’t move away. “I’ve gained power.”

She thrusts the knife into the Hatter’s heart. Shock clouds his eyes as I scream. Cheshire and White jump into action. I run forward, but the scene changes before I can reach him. I blink at the moisture in my eyes.

I’m in a throne room. Alice sits on an opulent golden chair in a bright-red dress. She wears the same crown on her head the Queen used to wear. Blood runs down her face and neck, pooling against the fabric and darkening it. Bodies litter the floor around the throne, left where they fell. When I look closer, I see the corpses of the King and Queen, their bodies mutilated, their heads cut off and sitting on the steps as a sort of gruesome masterpiece. Their mouths are open in horror. Blood pools beneath them.

Alice holds a heart in her hand, still warm I suspect from when she pulled it from the Queen’s chest. I watch from my spot in front of the throne. Alexander stands before her, the bodies of his parents at his feet. He’s beaten and bloody, holding an arm at an odd angle. He’s older now, too, and the time difference confuses me. He looks like he’s closer to twenty one. He watches as Alice brings the heart to her mouth and licks the blood dripping from it. Alexander flinches.

“Alice.” His voice shakes. “You’re not my Alice.”

Quicker than I can follow, Alice is out of the chair and standing in front of Alexander, her hand around his throat. He claws at her hand, gasping for breath as she brings him close.

“I’m not Alice anymore,” she snarls in his face. Her other hand leaves a bloody print on his jaw as she cups his cheek. “I’m the Red Queen.”

She drags her claws across his face, tearing one side away. He screams in agony, his body going limp from the pain. Blood oozes from the wound before tiny roses spring up in its place. Alexander doesn’t fight as she kisses his lips.

My heart beats hard in my chest as the scene changes. I’m afraid of what I’ll see next, of how bad this is going to get. I’m standing on a branch in a tree, looking down into a clearing. March sprints past, right into the center. Alice follows on the back of a fearsome creature. It opens its mouth, lips peeling back over its face to reveal sharp, blood-crusted teeth. I realize immediately it must be a Bandersnatch. It can’t be anything else. Alice rides on it’s back like a horse, glee on her face as they zero in on March. He’s stopped in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by more of the creatures. March makes one last effort to get out, sprinting right towards a Bandersnatch. He fakes to the left before moving right, but the beast expects it. My heart stops as the thing tears into March. Blood and pieces fly about the clearing as the other Bandersnatch join in a howl of victory. Tears roll over my cheeks when the screams reach me.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take, but I don’t have a choice. Whatever drug-induced vision I’m in, I’m stuck until it’s over. The scene is changing again, and I pray that this is the last time I’ll have to watch something so horrible. Please don’t be the Hatter, I think. Please not the Hatter.

I’m standing in a dungeon, the air cold and damp. I shiver even though I’m not really here. Dungeons mean bad things. They always do.

Against the wall, two people are manacled to the stone. Alice stands before them. She’s wearing an intricate formal gown, red and glittering with rubies. A high collar frames her dainty neck. The red crown sits on her perfectly teased hair. I move to the side, a small whimper escaping me when I see who is chained to the wall. The White Queen’s dress is covered in blood and dirt, but her face is serene even as her eyes glitter daggers. Beside her, the Hatter is chained. He’s missing his coat and his hat, but it’s him all the same. He’s bruised and bloody, like he put up a fight. His pants are unbuttoned and pushed down at an angle, barely hiding his privates. There’s blood smeared across his skin. I cry at the implication behind it.

Alice grins wickedly at him.

“You were my friend,” the Hatter rasps, his voice full of pain.

“A friend wouldn’t have left me to rot in an asylum,” Alice hisses back.

She steps towards the White Queen, sharp teeth I have never seen before poking from her lips. The White Queen meets her stare head on, her chin held high.

“No begging your Queen for mercy?” Alice asks her, wickedness dripping from every word.

“You’re not my Queen.” The White Queen’s voice is strong when she speaks. Alice yanks the woman’s head to the side and strikes, her teeth sinking into the flesh of her neck. A garbled sound passes the White Queen’s lips. I watch as she shrivels before my eyes, her skin revealing the bones beneath. Her body sags, her eyes sinking into her skull. Her hair falls to the ground in clumps, only a few strands hanging on. Her crown doesn’t fall from her head.

Hatter screams, and Alice yanks away from the body of the White Queen. I watch the Queen’s chest rattle, barely rising. She’s still alive. Blood drips down Alice’s chin, her fangs even longer then before, and she fixes her eyes on the Hatter. I move in front of him, trying to protect him, a pointless act really. She strikes, her hand passing right through me and into the Hatter’s chest.

I scream and scream.

I come to, gasping, my heart beating frantically inside my rib cage. I realize quickly my skin is clammy from a cold sweat, the beads still dripping down my forehead. I’m sprawled across the Hatter’s lap, his arms wrapped around me, at once strong and gentle.

“Shh,” he whispers, pushing strands of hair from my face. I’m sure I look a mess right now. I certainly feel like a mess. “It’ll pass. It’ll pass.”

His voice anchors me to the present, focusing my mind until I no longer hear the Chipmunk’s shrieks, the pleas of the Prince, or the hoarse screams of the Hatter.

March sits at the table across from us, sipping tea daintily from a chipped tea cup. Every now and then, he lets out a tiny giggle as he watches us. I haven’t decided yet if he’s insane or completely broken. I’m betting heavily on the later.

When my heart rate returns to normal, and I no longer feel like I’m going to puke, I sit up in the Hatter’s lap. He steadies me as the shakes wrack my body, but otherwise, he lets me adjust at my own pace.

“What the hell was in that tea?” I ask March. My voice is still rough, either from screaming or the tea, I’m not sure.

He grins, a giggle escaping his throat. The ears on his head twitch back and forth, like they don’t really know which way to point anymore.

“Reali-Tea,” he whispers before clamping his hands over his mouth to stop a full laugh. He’s not successful. He ends up spitting all over the table as a deep-bellied hysteria overtakes him. He falls from the chair, roaring his amusement while he rolls on the floor. I stare at him, one eyebrow raised. I glance at the Hatter’s face. He wears the same amusement, like he wants to join March in the giggles on the floor, but when his eyes focus on me, he gains control over the impulse.

“How are you here?” I ask softly, turning on his lap to face him straight on.

“I am neither here nor there,” he replies. “I am everywhere.”

I grasp the sides of his face seriously, urging him to focus on me alone. March’s laughter fades into background noise as I stare deeply into his eyes.

“I saw you die.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I saw you die twice.”

He studies me intently.

“As long as Wonderland lives, so, too, do I. Remember, Clara Bee?”

“But you can feel pain?” I clarify because those images will stick with me for the rest of my life. I will have nightmares of those screams, of seeing the Hatter die again and again.

He nods his head, his cheeks warm beneath my palms. I feel the tears spring to my eyes unwillingly, the realization that he must have felt such terrible agony, that if I can’t fulfill my part in the prophecy, he could feel it again, too much. I’ve been in this world a matter of a few days— at least, I think it’s been a few days— but I already feel like I belong. I don’t want to fail them all. A single tear tracks down my face, and he stares at it in wonder.

“Don’t cry for me, Clara Bee,” he whispers softly. “I don’t think I can bear it.”

“I’m sorry.” I lift my hand to wipe away the tear, embarrassed that I’m losing it.

He catches my hand in his own before I manage the task. His eyes are filled with emotion as he leans forward and kisses the droplet away, his lips soft against my skin. It’s enough to choke me up again, but I fight against it. It feels like a losing battle.

“Never be sorry.” He looks into my eyes. “Not for me. Our world is in chaos, every one of us suffers in some way. My mind,” he taps the side of his head, “is where I suffer. Inside my thoughts, there’s chaos, insanity, fear. I cannot fight it. I cannot push it away. But inside all that chaos, there’s you, shining bright, my own star to light the way and show me the path home. Never be sorry for who you are,” he says, more serious than I have ever seen him. “Because who you are is everything to me.”

I melt. Right there in his lap in the insane March Hare’s rotting cabin, March still rolling on the floor, wheezing, fighting for breath. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s the moment I fall in love with the Mad Hatter, so crazy and tortured that he sings in riddles and rhymes and yet, he can spin such beautiful words that ring of truth and love. We might be prophesied to be together, but a prophecy didn’t make me love the Hatter. The man in a coat and a top hat did that all on his own.

On the floor, March suddenly sits up, his ears standing straight and pointing in the same direction for once.

“Shh, do you hear that? Do you hear it?” he whispers. His nose twitches.

We pause, listening. Everything is silent. And then a loud screech fills the air, the noise jarring and loud. I feel like ice picks are thrust into my ears even though the Hatter clamps his hands over them. I watch blood trickle from his ear canals when they remain unprotected. I clamp mine around his in an attempt to help. The screeching stops, but whatever it is, it’s very close.

“Bandersnatch.” March’s voice quivers. “It’s the Bandersnatch.”