Past: Wonderland
T here were times when people thought Fabiola was possessed or had gone mad. She’d leave the forest at night, walking in a haze, itching like a drug addict, and talking to herself. The mushrooms had gotten to her.
Normally, she wouldn’t have experienced so much pain, but her need to rid herself from the Pillar’s pill proposed a great conflict. Margaret’s little trick had intensified the need. The pain.
Fabiola never knew Margaret played her. The last time she went to visit her, the house was empty. She’d been told Margaret left forever.
She’d had wanted to ask the Hatter to help but was embarrassed by the situation. The pain and confusion lead her to take all wrong decisions. She was chained to the smoke of the mushrooms and needed a release.
One day, walking outside the forest, she heard someone screaming. A lanky man, who looked weak and helpless, had been captured by the Queen’s guards. They messed with him and bullied him. She’d heard them call him the Mock Turtle, and interpreted as a turtle that begged to be mocked and bullied.
“Leave him be,” she asked politely, the same way she’d been raised to be polite to everyone, even the people who hurt her.
“Look at that fine piece of a girl,” one of the guards said. “What made you leave the forest.”
“You know me?”
“Who wouldn’t. The young girl who married the Pillar,” he said. “How did he convince you to do it? Money?”
“Maybe he has a big mushroom,” the other guards giggled. “Or it’s drugs. Look at her shivering.”
“You’re an addict?” the first Red said. “That explains it. I should get into the drug-trading business and find me a fine girl like you. What’s with the tattoos?”
“Just leave him be,” Fabiola wasn’t in the mood of discussing anything. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”
“Well, he did,” the guard roared with a hiccupy laughter. “He offended us.”
“How so?” Fabiola said. “He is a peaceful man, or it looks like it.”
“He offended us by being stupid.” The other laughed, banging Tom on the head. Tom fell sideways and began crying.
“I said stop it.” Fabiola hadn’t realized yet, but the way she’d pronounced the word unsettled the bullies. A long-hidden anger inside her was about to surface.
“Listen, doll,” the guard's voice changed into a demanding warning. He pointed his sword at her. “Go your way, or we will hurt you.”
“Yeah?” She said, approaching them. It seemed spontaneous, unplanned, and irrational. But she did it. Her pain needed a release, or maybe she thought if she provoked them they’d kill her and end her misery. For three days she’d fought the urge to eat the mushroom. Three days! Planning on to make it seven, or as long as it takes to stop her addiction.
It hurt like hell. Her mind wasn’t thinking straight anymore. It didn’t take much time to kill the two guards. In fact, in years to come, she’d never remembered how she did it. A fast, angry move. A skill she didn’t know she possessed. She swerved like ballerina warrior, snatched the sword, stabbed one guard, pulled out, stabbed the other in the same moment he was about to attack.
Two men were dead on the ground, blood seeping everywhere, a White Queen was no longer white.
“Thank you,” Tom said. “I will be forever grateful.”
She watched him leave and run away. He was thankful but also afraid of her. Hell, Fabiola was afraid of herself.