Elzibeth Hare (tortured_hare) wrote in am0ng_the_mad,
Elzibeth Hare
tortured_hare
am0ng_the_mad

Unable to sleep, Elzibeth managed to charm her way out of her room, the nurse obviously not in the mood for any conflict that night. She helps Elzibeth move the high-backed chair in front of the big window overlooking the grounds. It was her favourite view in this place, a reminder that there was more out there then just the walls that surround her. The moonlight peers out from behind the clouds, illuminating the dew sat upon the deep green grass. The nurse leaves and goes off to make herself a drink, thinking she is in for a long night, as Elzibeth sits herself in the old and worn chair and draws her legs onto it and under herself. The room was wonderfully silent, the gentle hum of the kettle in the background as it boils the water, and the nurse pottering around in the tea room. The faint light from a lamp behind her illuminates the room slightly, slivers of it creeping down the hallway and into the darkness. She smiles to herself, a warming feeling inside. Elzibeth always enjoyed this time of night, nothing but the moonlight for company and her own thoughts.

She places her book upon the side of her leg and opens it up, flicking through to the middle pages. Pulling the pen out of the gap in its spine, she rests its chewed tip to her pale pink lips for a moment, as if collecting herself, then begins to write.

These past few days have certainly been of interest, probably some of the most eventful ones since I have come here, that wasn’t caused by my self. And it all started when a spat between one Miss Alice Liddell and one Mr Zakariah Jenkins. Mr Jenkins seemed to have caught young Alice’s attention, she believes he is some person called The Mad Hatter. Though I discovered she seems to think I am of the name March Hare. She is a very strange girl and easily puts me at unease. Mr Jenkins seems to have also caught the attention of one upstart by the name of Hargreeves, because of the attention he received from Alice, who the upstart certainly feels is worthy of his attention, unlike myself. But Zakariah, he is a very curious thing to me, when he is at ease or unhappy I feel it too. I’m attracted to him, to be near him, when he touches my hand I can’t help but blush and smile. When he smiles, it feels familiar and like I haven’t seen it in such a long time. It’s hard to explain I was never one who was good with words. But that night, the night she declared me as March Hare, she told us how it was good we found each other, how we were never often seen apart.

Zakariah mentioned Wonderland maybe being somewhere other then this place as did Alice, a part of me feels they might be right, but then I realise, how am I to know what is the truth and what is imagination? I am in this place for what my parents believe is a good reason, would I be feeding their delusions if I was to say that I believe them?

Elzibeth looks down at the page and reads through, going over the other nights events again in her head, it just all sounded familiar. The headache came back to her as she thought about it, and she leans her head back, closing her eyes and wincing. She raised her hands to side of her head, and started to run her fingers through her hair. Elzibeth’s fingers glided through it and across something soft and furry, she run her hands down them unsure of what this was.

Slowly she moved them towards her to have a look, they were rather long. Wispy grey ears came into view, horrified she let out a scream and jolted forward. The nurse came running across the room, to see Elzibeth sitting upright in her chair panting, her eyes full of panic, book and pen sprawled across the floor. The nurse goes to touch Elzibeth’s shoulder to try and calm her down. “Don’t touch me!” She screams, and the nurse backs off slightly, knowing forcing it would make her worse. Her hands quickly move to the side of her head, checking to see if they are still there “it was just a nightmare Elzibeth, pull yourself together…It was all in your head…” Shakely her hands move back down to her lap, and Elzibeth stares blankly out of the window, afraid to close her eyes.

Tags: asylum, elzibeth
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