Disappearing isn’t anything like I expect. I assumed we would just have this moment of blankness in-between, reappearing at our destination. That isn’t the case, at all. I’m able to see the entire time, and as soon as the Hatter’s house leaves our sight, the world explodes in shades of blues, swirling around us like a portal. It’s strangely similar to White’s Rabbit Hole. I glance to my right at Cheshire’s face, but his eyes are closed in concentration. Clara has her eyes closed, too, but I think it’s more from nausea than anything else. It doesn’t have that effect on me. I have that weightless feeling like I’m on a roller coaster that just dropped out from under me before the swirling fades away, and a small cabin nestled in the forest comes into view.

A man stumbles out onto the porch and giggles, tapping his fingers together in excitement. I stare hard at him, expecting his appearance to be an illusion, but he doesn’t change. Dingy brown ears sit on his head, half of one missing, chunks missing from the remaining appendage. His flesh is riddled with holes and missing pieces, similar to the Bandersnatch. There are tell-tale bite marks along the shoulder that’s exposed with his shredded coat, and I frown at the sight.

In the distance, a Bandersnatch shrieks, and Clara ushers us inside. Cheshire doesn’t move as fast, strolling onto the porch as if danger isn’t waiting in the trees for us. March follows us inside.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome . . .,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end. He frowns as if he can’t remember what he was saying, before shrugging and letting out another giggle.

“Why couldn’t you do that before?” Clara demands of Cheshire once we’re inside. “You left me to face the Knave alone last time. You could have taken me with you.”

Cheshire rolls his eyes.

“Clara Bee, I let you do the job you were prophesied to do. Besides, I warned you I’m on nobody’s side but my own.”

I turn away from their argument to stare at March. As Clara warned, he looks nothing like he did outside. His clothing is no longer in tatters, although it still appears dirty and moth-eaten, and his skin is whole. The only thing still left is the half missing ear on his head.

“Which form is the true one?” I ask, curious.

March cocks his head and giggles again.

“What on Wonder makes you think that either is true?” he whispers as if dropping some great conspiracy. Then he grins wide, revealing sharp teeth and starts to chant. “One is dead. Two is begotten. Three is alone. And four is forgotten.” He repeats if over and over again as I watch in fascination.

“I told you,” Clara says, taking my hand, “Don’t mind him.” She waits for March to trail off before she addresses him. “March, Jupiter here needs some Reali-Tea.”

“Of course! Oh, of course! Of course! Reali-Tea it is!”

March shuffles over to what must be a kitchen area and starts pouring things into a cup before mashing at them with a spoon.

“What is Reali-Tea?” I ask. “And should I be drinking it?”

“It’s safe,” Clara answers. “Well, as safe as can be. It induces visions of the past.”

“You’ve drunk it before?”

She nods. “Once.” She shivers at the memory. “I’m afraid it isn’t pleasant, but I’m going to help you through it.”

“Will it hurt me?” March brings over a tea cup filled with red liquid, steam rising from the contents. I have no idea how he prepared it so fast. A faint smell of roses and chocolate, with metallic undertones wafts into my face.

“Physically, no.” Clara leans away from the tea. “Emotionally, it’ll probably rip you to shreds.”

I sigh at her answer.

“Why can’t anything in Wonderland be safe and simple?”

Clara throws her hands up in the air.

“Tell me about it, girl! I have seen some shit, let me tell you.”

I fight the urge to chuckle at her since March does enough for the both of us. I lift the cup gently and stare at the contents. March watches, engrossed, as I pause it before my lips. Cheshire leans against the opposite wall, peering through the curtains outside.

“Make sure you brace her,” he mumbles, not turning to look at us.

Clara shifts closer and waits as I take a sip. The flavor is just as it smells, chocolate and roses and a thick metallic taste that coats my tongue. I finish the liquid inside before setting the cup back on the table and wait, nothing immediately happening. For some reason, my eyes drift over to Cheshire who finally turns to look at me.

The moment a grin spreads across his face, the world explodes in shades of red.

The world around me looks like home. Normal trees, not a mushroom in sight. There’s a little house in front of me, quaint, old-fashioned. It doesn’t look modern. Beside me, a portal opens, and I jump away in surprise as a little girl tumbles out. I immediately recognize her.

The little blonde girl stands up and brushes off her dirty blue dress before pushing her hair out of her eyes. Not only is there dirt on her dress, but it looks like there’s blood smeared across it, too. Those eyes are far too old for such a young face as she grins and takes off running towards the house. Not once does she notice me, so I assume I’m to be invisible for these visions. Not terrible so far.

“Momma! Daddy!” she yells as she bangs at the door. Something glass shatters inside.

The world swirls around me, and I stumble under the unexpected change. When it stops, I’m standing inside a building, and that little girl is screaming at the top of her lungs.

I frown as a man and woman watch two men drag young Alice away.

“I’m telling the truth!” she screams. “I saw them! I went down a rabbit hole!”

The woman covers her face and turns into the man’s chest, letting him comfort her over their daughter being committed. And that’s exactly what’s happening, I realize, noting the plaque on the wall with the words, ‘Davis Institute for the Insane.’

“I saw the White Rabbit! I saw the Hatter! Momma! Daddy! Don’t send me away! Please!”

My chest aches at the pleas from the little girl, her desperation to break away from the large men dragging her. She fights and screams and begs and claws, but an eight-year-old is no match for two grown men determined to take her away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see something twitch and I turn, my eyes finding White standing stock still in a corner. Alice sees him the same moment I do, and she reaches for him.

“White! Look right there! It’s the White Rabbit! See him!” When they look and react as if nothing is there, she screams in anger. “White! Save me! Help me, White!”

His face is solemn as he watches the scene, watches Alice taken through the doors before her screams begin to fade. He turns and exits the building.

The scene shifts again, and we’re outside in a manicured garden. In front of me, Alice is strapped into a wheelchair, her hands and feet locked within leather buckles. She’s older now, but still has the same face. She looks like she’s in her late teens, a woman and yet a child. Her head is shaved, her beautiful blonde locks gone. There’s a nasty scar that runs along her scalp, one that makes me clench my jaw in anger. I can’t be certain of the year, but this can’t be current day. Such atrocities aren’t practiced any more. I think back to Star Corp and correct myself; Such things aren’t practiced publicly any more.

Alice stares into the distance, her face blank as her lips move, mumbling under her breath. I lean down and just barely make out her words.

“Hatter . . . White . . . Cheshire . . . Alex . . . Hatter. . . .”

Even after all she’s been through, she still whispers their names, as if nothing the asylum has done can take them from her. Suddenly, my chest hurts for the little girl in front of me. No one should be made to go through such horrors.

Suddenly, Alice stops mumbling, and her eyes flick to something behind me. I turn and meet the eyes of my Rabbit. He’s sitting on a bench, apparently invisible to all but Alice. He looks sad, so unbearably sad, as he takes in Alice’s appearance. He glances at his watch and sighs.

Alice begins to scream her anger and betrayal. I clamp my hand over my ears at the loud piercing sound, gritting my teeth. No normal woman should make a sound like that. White gets up and walks away just as nurses swarm the teenage girl.

The scene changes violently this time, as if they’re reacting to Alice’s anger. We’re back inside a building, the walls white and padded. In the corner sits Alice. Her hair is long again, even if it’s dirty and unkempt. She’s older, in her thirties maybe, and she’s wearing a straight jacket. She giggles and mumbles the same words I heard her whisper in the last vision.

“Hatter . . . White . . . Cheshire . . . Alex. . . .”

Whatever has happened to her, she no longer seems all there. There’s an evil smile on her face each time she giggles, and I can tell it’s too late for her to be saved at this point. Her face holds all the anger and resentment she’s carried for most of her life.

The door opens behind me, and I turn, expecting White again. Instead, a handsome man walks in, dressed in a lab coat. He has a movie-star quality to his looks, his hair perfectly swept back, his shoulders strong.

“Ms. Liddell, I’m Doctor Blatherskite.” Even his voice is deep and smooth, and I turn my head to the side to study him better. There’s something about him that seems off, but I can’t place what it is.

The door closes behind him, and he sits down cross-legged on the floor in front of Alice. No other nurses or assistants come inside with him. I raise my brow. I’ve never seen anyone so relaxed around Alice in the visions, nor have I seen anyone sit down to be on her level.

Alice giggles, that uneasy grin now directed at him.

“Hatter . . . White . . . Cheshire . . . Alex . . .,” she tells him.

“I’m very interested in your condition, the hallucinations your file mentions.”

Her eye twitches. The next time she repeats the names, her voice is strong and sure.

“Hatter. White. Cheshire. Alex.”

“Exactly,” the doctor answers, nodding his head. “I believe you’ve seen these people, these creatures. I don’t think they’re hallucinations at all.” Alice stops rocking and focuses completely on him. “What would you say if I asked you to take me there?”

Alice shakes her head violently.

“Im, Imposs . . .”

She can’t get the word out, but it seems the doctor and I both understand her. It’s impossible to get to Wonderland.

The doctor grins. He lifts his hand to stroke down her face. She leans into the touch, starved for physical contact, the little girl who has lived her life in an asylum.

“Is it, Alice?” he asks tenderly.

The scene changes so hard, I stumble and slam my eyes shut to fight the nausea in my stomach. When I open them again, it’s to see the vibrant colors of Wonderland again. Immediately, I realize I’m not alone, and it’s far from quiet. Creatures fill the garden I stand in, the bushes and topiaries carved into grotesque creations. One looks like Alice holding up a severed head. Another just looks like some sort of terrifying beast.

The creatures and people form a ring where grunts of pain and screams of agony come from. In front of me, Alice sits on a high throne, clothed in a blood-red dress. Her hair is perfectly styled, a brilliant red crown on her head. Her skin is so pale, she would look like a ghost if it wasn’t for her pure black eyes. Gone is the little girl. In her place, sits a monster.

Alice smiles at a particularly loud scream from the circle, her hand reaching out towards a man beside her. I take a step back when I study him closer. He would have been handsome once. If it wasn’t for the roses growing where half of his face used to be, I’m sure he still would be.

“Isn’t it glorious, Knave?” Alice asks him.

“Yes, my Queen,” the Knave answers without hesitation, almost robotically. Alice chuckles and runs her hand across the man’s shoulder. I can’t be sure, but I think I see his remaining eye twitch at the touch.

On Alice’s other side stands White, his hands behind his back in a relaxed position. I wrinkle my brow at the sight. He appears relaxed, but when I look closer, the muscles in his neck are tense, as if he’s fighting to hold himself back . . . or something else holds him in check.

Alice glances at him and grins at the sight, pleased with whatever she sees there. When another scream comes from the ring, I turn and push my way through the crowd, a sneaking suspicion of what I’ll find. When I get a good view of the ring, I fight the vomit in my throat.

Doe is strapped down in the center in her bird form. She still has half of her feathers, and I can see the beauty they once were before Alice took them. The creatures take turns ripping feathers from her hide and each time she screams in absolute agony, as if she dies with each one taken. Tears spring to my eyes as she begs for mercy, as she fights against the bonds that hold her.

I turn back to White, still at attention next to Alice. She leans over and strokes a finger down his ear. Violence whispers in my veins at the touch, and I move closer towards them.

“Isn’t this the perfect torture?” she asks him, her nail scraping against the fur. “Watching while your friend is in agony, while there isn’t a thing you can do to stop it.” He doesn’t respond, and she wraps her hand around his ear so hard he flinches. “I asked you a question,” she snarls. White stubbornly stays silent, fighting whatever compulsion she has on him to remain so. “Alright, White. If you won’t talk, I’ll make you scream.”

She yanks so hard on his ear, it rips free. I scream at the same moment that White’s bellows fill the arena. He drops to the ground, his hand clamped around the stump left behind. I rush forward and attempt to put myself between the Red Queen and White. But this is the past, not the present. Alice’s foot goes right through me as she kicks White down into the circle of creatures. They all grow silent as he comes to a stop beside Doe.

“Have at him,” Alice commands.

I stumble away, my hand clutching my chest at the sounds that fill the air. The blood. I can’t get all the blood out of my mind. I can’t breathe, and as White’s bellows fills the air, I retch.

The scene swirls away, and I’m afraid to look and see the vision this time. But I need to know all the facts, so I reluctantly turn and take in the opulent room I stand in. It’s furnished in luxury, velvet curtains hanging from the window, indulgent bedding covering a four-poster bed. The walls and floor are stone.

Alice sits in front of a mirror, staring at her reflection. She tugs a lock of her hair over the scar that still peeks from the strands, a bald spot she fights to cover. Her gown is more casual, resembling a night dress more than anything else I’ve seen her wear. It’s sheer and shows off her curves beneath it.

A man steps up from nowhere and gently runs his hands along her shoulders. My eyes open in shock as I recognize that same movie-star face, that same voice as he leans down to Alice’s ear.

“You look beautiful, my Queen,” the doctor from the Asylum whispers to her.

He leans down and presses a kiss to her cheek. Alice revels in the kiss, closing her eyes as if to savor it. When he pulls away, she stands and wraps her arms around his neck, before standing on her tiptoes and kissing his lips furiously. The man backs them up towards the bed until they sprawl across it together, Alice straddling his waist. I watch as they begin to glow, energy swirling around them as they become more intimate.

Alice breaks away and begins to kiss down the man’s naked chest, and for the first time I notice a tattoo etched into his skin. It looks like some sort of dragon creature that wraps around his body, the head on his pectoral. It’s not something I recognize, and I save it to my memory for later.

“Take from me,” the man groans as Alice runs her tongue along the tattoo. “Feed your power.”

Alice moans as the glow brightens and begins to flow towards her body. She strokes a hand down the doctor’s face, adoration clear on hers.

“My precious Jabberwocky,” she whispers, right before she bites him on the neck.

I’m thrown backwards out of the vision.