Shock therapy feels like getting high. Each time Warden Ogier pushes the button, my body shivers so hard that my mind goes numb. It's not such a bad feeling, if I think of it positively. I get to shut my mind off to the world for that brief buzz in my body. The world itself seems too noisy to me sometimes.
To top it off, I am soaked in some kind of liquid, so electricity has a more profound effect. Each time he presses the button, Ogier snickers and grins. The shocks are short and to the point. If they send these bolts through my body for a little longer, I might make a good fried chicken dinner for cannibals.
“How does it feel, Mushroomer?” Waltraud puffs spiral smoke in the air. She likes to call us mad people, Mushroomers. This place I am being tortured in is called The Mush Room. It’s all the nurses’ and wardens’ slang. Other than the analogy to most mushrooms being poisonous, they believe shock therapy mushes the patient's brains and they find it amusing.
I'm sure Waltraud and Ogier don't want me to die. What would be the fun in that? Watching me suffer is pure entertainment for them. Life underground is pretty boring to nurses and wardens. I can see it in Waltraud's eyes. That’s the problem with sane people. They almost always have a license to kill those they think are insane.
“Jeez,” I rise against the pain and snicker back at Ogier. “I’m just a mad girl. Nothing personal." I guess I got what I deserved for trying to escape.
Two hours later, I am back in my cell. The pain and dizziness are the least of my concerns. I feel lonely here without my Tiger Lily. Warden Ogier says she's been saved in a newer pot and sent to Doctor Tom Truckle's room, for his own amusement. Poor Tiger Lily, now in the hands of that vicious man.
A few minutes later, Waltraud tells me I have visitors.
Chapter 9
Visiting Hall, the Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum, Oxford
In the visiting hall, I sit opposite my mother and two sisters. There is no barrier between us. It’s just tables. The visit is a half an hour, max. Radcliffe Asylum's patients always behave. One threatening look from Warden Ogier or nurse Waltraud will suffice.
“How are you, Alice?” my mother reaches out to touch my hand. I let her, although I am not really sure she is my mother. She has faint uncombed brown hair. Her eyes are moistening. I think she loves me.
“Mad.” I let out a weak smile.
Lorina and Edith, my sisters, snicker with their hands covering their mouths. Their eyes are twinkling. They feel more like stepsisters to me. I don't think they love me at all.
“Don’t say that, darling,” my mother's sincerity should affect me. It doesn't. Maybe because I am mad. I don’t even remember her name, so I don’t ask. I wonder why I remember the names of my sisters. Maybe because they are mean to me. I met all of them a week ago for all I care. Before that, I was probably someone else entirely. At least the tattoo on my arm suggests it. “You’re just having a rough time.” My mother’s still caring enough to make believe she is my mother.
"Can you get me out of here?" I cut through the drama.
"Here we go again," Edith says. Lorina rolls her eyes and looks away. I think she’s eyeing a cute boy visiting his sick mother next to us.
I ignore them both anyways. It doesn't look like they'll help me. “How long have I been here?” I ask my mother.
“Two years,” Lorina volunteers back. She looks like she'd like to stick out her tongue at me. "Since you were seventeen."
“And why am I here?" The real question is: “Who in the world am I?” But you can’t ask someone that, if you want them to think you are sane.
“You killed your classmates, every single one of them.” Edith’s words fall like stones on me. I think she is the older one. She is dead serious. Lorina is the flirty one, with an obsession with her manicured fingernails.
"How did I do that?" My brain refuses to believe I am capable of killing anyone. I try to remember anything about it, but I can't.
"See that stare in her eyes?” Lorina tells Edith, as if I am not here with them. “She’s in the cuckoo’s nest.”
“Stop it, girls,” my mother demands. Although she cares, she looks weak. She has no control whatsoever. It makes me wonder where my father is. I have never seen him. Maybe he is dead, but I don't ask. "Can I ask you a question, Alice?"
I nod.
"Do you still believe that Wonderland exists?"
"No." I shake my head.
"It means your therapy is working," my mother looks pleased. I wonder how she’d feel two seconds in shock therapy.
"What is all that talk about Wonderland?" I wonder.
"When you were seven," Edith’s seriousness is annoying. "You went missing one afternoon, and came back saying you’d been to that scary place."