The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(161)

His suggestion wasn’t a terrible idea, but I didn’t want his dirty hands, the caked grit under his fingernails black, making the satin covered buttons as foul as his shirt. “What do you do to get so dirty each day?”

Pulling a face, the Hatter, pouted. “These are my finest garments.”

“So they are.” I giggled. “But as dusty as the grave.”

Wagging a finger in my face, he teased, “We have to put the bodies somewhere... if I left them out, everything would start to smell.”

Silliness was my favorite conduct he might grace me with, and I smiled. “I just remembered, I prepared a Christmas present for you.” I leapt from his lap before he might catch me, and ran to my bureau drawer. Rummaging through, I found my hidden prize and pranced back to the table. Taking my seat, I put a hand stitched drawstring bag between us.

I had made it myself, just for him.

“It’s been some years since I’ve had any to give you, but I traded the tailor’s little boy for two of his.” Scooting the parcel forward, I smiled at the blue satin bow and how clever I was. “I know how much you like them.”

Cocking a brow, wrinkles pinched on his forehead, the man at my table refused the gift. “Why would I want his teeth?”

“What?” No, that could not be right. I had procured them so faithfully just for him. Even the blue velvet ribbon I had pilfered from the dressmaker to make the present pretty. “But... you were happy when I gave you mine.”

Frown deepening, his eyes narrowed and our games were at an end. “But these aren’t yours. You’ve even washed the blood away. I want things from you that I take or shove in. I want them warm from your body and wet with your juices.”

The Hatter’s rejection of my gift had hurt my feelings, more importantly, his wacky ramblings had gone over my head.

I’d had enough discord for the day. I decided to ignore the whole thing, lifting up my sad, broken tea pot, I pretended all was easy between us and poured a serving in my friend’s waiting cup. “One lump or two?”

“Take off the dress, Alice. You want to be grown up. It’s been long enough. Give me that instead of old teeth.”

Eyes glued to the table, I reached for the sugar and asked, again, “One lump or two.”

“Two.” The word was growled, despoiled in anger... and sounding oddly far away.

I had misjudged the level of his temper, for though the Hatter had threatened such a recourse in the past, he’d never followed through. That was how they were able to get me so easily. Before I might defend myself, one had me by the hair, the other barging forward to send all three of us crashing to the floor.

The boys, the horrible twins, had crept from some dark corner, and my friend, my Hatter, had abandoned me to make way for them.

Blue silk, rich velvet, all of it was torn to pieces. That was their game that night. By morning it looked as if the blossoms of a cherry tree had fallen to scatter all over my floor, my furnishings, the fragments of silk too numerous to be gathered up and hidden before my nanny might come.

By noon, the entire household heard about what I had done to the dress.

A little rough for wear considering the previous evening’s festivities, my father was the one to attend to my punishment. He took the strap to me himself. He called me a disgrace.

It had been a long time since I’d cried so hard.





Chapter Five





“It cannot be allowed to continue any more. We have tried and tried, but there is no correcting her.”

Ear pressed to the door, I listened to my mother’s complaints, on my father’s harrumphing, and on a stranger’s opinions on why I must be sent away.

“I have no doubt that your Alice can be made well. She’s not the first young lady exhibiting this level of hysterics. My asylum is just the place to set her right.”

“If word were ever to get out that we had her committed, it would ruin us.” My mother sniffed and I knew she was crying, but not for me. She was weeping for herself. “The shame would be unbearable.”

“Rothfield Asylum is secluded in the country. We pride ourselves on the rigorous application of privacy for both our patients and their families.” The man spoke with confidence, eloquent and genuine. “Many families choose to tell friends and connections that their loved one is away on holiday... Italy, Spain, France. You may decide that for yourselves. A few months, maybe a year in my care, and she will be returned to you in glowing health. It will appear as if she’s summered in the continent.”

The terms in which the stranger spoke were beyond my comprehension. I had never heard of an asylum or hysterics, all I could glean was that my parents wanted to send me away. Even suffering immense hurt at the idea of it, a part of me could not imagine that anywhere could be worse than where I already was.

Except that I would be even more alone.

It had been three months since the dress incident. But, it had been years since a member of the household was pleased with my presence.

I was the walking condemned. I hardly spoke, I rarely ate, and I could not recall the last time I’d shut my eyes to find sleep.

Since he’d rejected my gift, only once had I been visited by the Hatter. Before my parents had considered casting me off, he had abandoned me first. Without his presence, I knew no peace at night. It made me resent him, hate him, for letting me believe he had ever been my friend.