Page 51 of Madness
“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get out?”
Dusty shrugs his shoulder against mine, “We do not know. One day, the drugs became less, and I became coherent enough to leave.”
“Do you miss it?” I ask him, even when I know I should shut my mouth, but curiosity has my brain spilling the words before I can stop.
“Alice did not allow you much freedom to ask questions, and maybe this is why?”
“Shut up.”
“Again, I didn’t say anything,” Dusty sighs, “But sometimes, when the wails from the other patients in the ward become too loud, and I can’t shut my brain off long enough to fall asleep, I miss the quietness of the rabbit hole. On the other hand, it’s all I ever knew, and I guess because I’ve been here for so long, I never knew anything else other than those corridors and my small room that contained nothing but the bed I was strapped to.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
I want to say more, to tell him that I understand how it feels to have the walls close in on you as you watch them inch closer with each tick of the clock, but I don’t.
Alice taught me that speaking about your problems gets you shoved into a tiny little box cupboard for days with no food or water until your voice grows hoarse from screaming for help. She showed me that vulnerability is a weakness, so I swallow my words, choking on the bitter taste, and let the silence stretch between us botheven though I hope he can see in my eyes that I understand.
Dusty slumps against the wall and lets out a shuddering breath.
“You ok?” I ask him.
“Ye-yeah. This is the first time my brain has been quiet about the seconds ticking by on the clock, and I forgot how weird it is,” he says, but I can hear the new tone in his voice; it’s more melodic than gruff – almost as if the nagging in his mind made him an entirely different person.
The setting sun casts a glow over my room through the small window I have, but the steel bars that cover it make me feel more like a prisoner than I ever have.
“At least without a window, you could convince yourself you were free.”
Dusty picks at the hem on his trouser leg, lifting it, then dropping it again.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, ignoring the masculine voice that is voicing the thoughts that I’ve always had.
I know I’m a prisoner here, but at least there’s no pretending… no daydreams where I had friends and was allowed to go to school.
Dusty doesn’t say anything but rolls up his trousers, revealing three ticking watches strapped to his ankle.
“Why three?” I inquire.
“Why not?” he cocks his head, daring me to argue with his logic which I have no desire to do.
Wonderland is weird… bonkers.
“Bonkers, bonkers, bonkers! You were bonkers once, then you kill-”
I hit the side of my head three times to shut Queenie up, not able to hear the words that she was going to say.
“Mad… I’m utterly mad.” I mutter lowly.
“Do you ever think we’re like characters in a book? Drifting through the pages with madness and wonder… someone else writing our story?” Dusty changes the subject, and a part of me is grateful that he doesn’t bring up the way I lose myself when I’ve been questioning his motions for the last hour.
He fiddles with the dials on the watches, correcting the hands until they all tick simultaneously, “I feel like we’re in a different world altogether in here. The people on the other sides of these walls are all living their lives while we seem to be stuck in between. This is no life, but it's better than prison,” I utter.
“I feel like that white rabbit sometimes from that one story. Always racing against the clock, always late. It’s exhausting.”
I nod, keeping my gaze fixated on the speck of dirt on my wall. “I was never allowed to read books, but I understand. I always feel like I’m in a maze, even in my own mind. I constantly search for an exit that doesn’t exist, but then sometimes, I feel at home in the chaos because it’s all I’ve ever known.”
The glow from the sun turns from orange to a burning red, and I watch, intrigued as to how the colours paint my room, just like Red’s wall in hers.
“Maybe…” Dusty swallows next to me, “Maybe we aren’t lost. Maybe we’re just exploring, and we’ll find our way out one step at a time.”
