Somewhere in the streets of Oxford
I n my head, I’m picturing this little story: The Pillar, my biological father, was the evilest man in Wonderland. He took me under his wing and showed me what evil really was. He was proud of me, proud of his apprentice daughter, and I seem to have enjoyed his company. Then something happened, I’m not sure what. But Fabiola, who is probably my mother, had been played by the Pillar somehow, decided she’d fight for me and turn me into some kind of a Good Alice. That’s why she hated him. That’s why she didn’t want to acknowledge I was the Real Alice. She both feared for me – and feared me. That’s why she sometimes wants to kill me, and sometimes wants to help.
But what kind of mother would attempt to kill her own daughter? This doesn’t add up.
The phone in my hand is still beeping. I need the Pillar to pick up, or if I keep guessing who my family is I will go insane – pun intended.
But I still can’t help it. Who doesn’t want a family?
Closing my eyes, I daydream of a real home. A father, a mother, and maybe brothers and sisters. Someone to lean on and cry in their laps when madness hits the wall. Someone to have nearby all the time, even if I’m not that fond of them sometimes.
I imagine us having breakfast every day. Telling each other how our lives suck but how we won’t stop dreaming. Even at nineteen, I’d like to have a mother who’d comb my hair from time to time. A father who’d not approve of the boy I’m dating. And sisters, real ones not like Lorina and Edith, to borrow shoes from when I go out on a date.
My eyes flip open to a phone notification. It’s not the Pillar yet, but some urgent BBC headline I’d signed up to read earlier. I check it out. It’s that strange story about Inspector Dormouse again. I’ve marginally heard about it, but now his picture occupies the main page online:
Chief Inspector of the Department of Insanity has gone missing while investigating a serial killer.
It’s not like I was fond of Dormouse, but he seemed harmless, sometimes funny, if ever awake. Which makes me think he isn’t really missing. He’s just napping somewhere and will be back soon.
Looking up from the phone, I see I’ve walked a remarkable distance while thinking about my family. The place where I stand now looks eerily familiar. Slowly, it comes into focus and I can't help but wonder why I've ended up here.
How come I’ve walked to this place? Was it on purpose? Did my legs betray me or is it my subconscious that led me here?
I take the steps up to the front of the house before me. I’ll trust my gut and knock on a door I’d thought I’d left behind forever.
The house where my so-called sisters live.