Present: The Wonderland War, London
O n my knees, I cry my heart out, unable to understand what I’ve just done. I realize that I’ve chopped off Jack’s head out of confusion more than anything. I want the sounds and noises in my head to stop. The utter illogical world that surrounds me succeeds to drive me to insanity. No matter how much I oppose it, insanity prevailed.
Constance’s hand is tender on my shoulder, but it only adds to the pain. Sometimes the closest people to you will fail with their sympathy because the pain inside has already consumed you.
From the corner of my eye, I notice cameras. TV news? Why catch this specific incident on film? Where did they come from? Their microphones say BBC.
They’re packing and leaving already, so it’s too late to investigate. And I’m exhausted as hell.
I guess someone wants to capture the death of Jabberwocky on film.
My mind reels, staring at Jack’s head. It still puzzles me how he is the Jabberwocky. Why? How?
“You did the right thing, Alice,” Constance says. “Soon the world will be saved.”
Her words remind me that nothing is saved. That it’s still a crazy world around me with mushrooms and swirling plants all over the place.
“I don’t see any change,” I tell her then turn to Malice. “When will it happen?”
Malice musters a sympathetically disappointed face. “Soon, darling. Soon.”
“Wait a minute,” I stare at her. “How are you still alive?”
Malice says nothing.
“My darker side should die when I kill the Jabberwocky, right?”
She still resorts to silence.
“Besides, you wouldn’t have let me kill the Jabberwocky,” I’m mostly talking to myself, not Malice. To my stupid, reckless, impulsive self. I stare back at Jack’s head. “What have I done?”
Malice snickers. “We duped you. Isn’t it fun?”
I slash my Vorpal sword at her but in vain. Malice will not be killed in an act of anger. I have to ambush her. Besides, why has my Vorpal sword dimmed? Where is the light that emanated from inside of it?”
“Alice is so stupid,” Malice sings and dances. “Alice is so stupid.”
I grit my teeth, trying my best to postpone the feeling of suffering and guilt. If I’ve wrongfully killed Jack, it won’t help thinking about it now. Why did Malice make me do it?
And why the heck did Constance help?
When I turn to look at Constance this time, a shriek escapes me.
The Constance next to me isn’t the innocent and lovely one I know anymore.
Her eyes have changed and she stares at me with dark intent. Her head is lowered and her eyes slightly upward. What happened to her?
Then I remember Malice saying, ‘We duped you.’ She didn’t say ‘I duped you.’
“Why, Constance?” I ask. “Why did you make me do it?”
Constance says nothing, still staring at me. She only shows a gap in her mouth which exposes her ugly sharp teeth from underneath.
“Because, Alice,” Malice whispers in my ear. “This isn’t Constance. This her darker side. I sedated the real Constance under the mushrooms back where we met.”