And while the conformity of being stranded in an asylum might be a better option, even that isn’t working out for me. How many more times can I tolerate shock therapy? How many times can I tolerate waking up finding myself crippled?
Whatever this is I am facing, I have no other choice. My insanity is my sanity. I am both, but I am one. If any of this makes sense.
Okay now, roll on again. Unfreeze that scene.
Lorina sneers at me while I am picking myself up. I have no idea how she is such a good None Fu fighter. Where did she learn it?
I arch my body, stretching my hands and legs into another position I have been training for in my cell. It looks silly, like in a badly dubbed seventies Asian movie. But it should work out. I stare Lorina in the eyes.
Ding. Round two!
“Do you even know what this position is called?” Lorina makes fun of my average None Fu skills.
“Zashchishchaiushchikhsya!” I reply. It’s one of the hardest positions—and words—in the book. The term was coined by Lewis Carroll himself when he visited Russia. It turns out Lewis left England but once. Only to go to Russia. He wrote a whole book about his journey and how he fell in love with this particular word, which meant “to be defended” in Russian.
“Can you say Zashchishchaiushchikhsya ten times in a row?” Lorina snickers then raises the back of her hand to hit me.
She moves too fast. I lose balance, feeling my cheek go numb from the power of her swing. I plow against the fruit basket on the kitchen table this time. A banana gets stuck in my open mouth, and strawberries shower me as I fall again. White cream trickling on my cheeks. I am a happy cake.
“Lorina two, Alice none!” Lorina rubs something off her dress. It’s ridiculous how much she is enjoying this.
“Look.” I stand up again. “I don’t need this. I came here to get something. I think I should leave now.”
I’m Alice’s cowardly conscience and subconscious, trying to save the world.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she exclaims. “Before I put you back in the asylum, where you belong.”
“I’m you sister, Lorina,” I say. “Why would you want to do this to me? Please.”
“You shouldn’t have left the asylum.” She lashes out her other hand at me.
This time, I’ve had it.
I don’t duck, but face her instead. I crisscross my hand with hers as if they are swords, and then pull the pan from the table and swoosh it across her pretty face.
“If you don’t shut up, I will omelet your pretty Barbie face.” I don’t even know where these words come from.
Lorina glares in disbelief. I have the feeling she needs to check her face in the mirror, but I don’t wait that long before I swoosh her face with the pan in the other direction.
“The hell with None Fu,” I shout. “Let’s do this the stay-at-home mums style.” Then I kick her in the knees.
Lorina slumps to the floor, as I feel the anger surface in me. I swing the pan one last time, but my hands freeze midway.
It’s not the terrified look on Lorina’s face that stops me. It’s the fact that she is my sister. Whatever I do to play bad or evil, I seem to soften to the thought of family. The idea of someone being there for me. That I am not alone in this world. I don’t want to lose my family, even if I hardly feel for them. Even if they want to get rid of me.
“You’re lucky I’m still hoping we can work this out as two sisters.” I pant when I say the words. My right hand argues that I should just hit her face and get done with it. I hate my right hand, and oppose it.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” Lorina nods. “We’re sisters. We should work this out. I actually like you more than Edith.”
Lorina’s lie is so sweet I want to believe her. My hunger for belonging to a family urges me to put the pan aside, and I lend her a hand. “I’m glad you think that, too,” I say, as she takes it. “Whatever you and Edith have done to me before, don’t hesitate to tell me. I promise I will hold no grudges. Let’s start all over again. All I want is to know the truth. To know who I am.”
Lorina nods, getting to her feet. “I’m so sorry.” She begins to trickle tears.
“Don’t be.” I am about to cry as well, realizing I have no memories of crying on someone’s shoulder. “I really need this.” I find myself opening my arms wide, longing for Lorina’s hug.
But then Lorina’s eyes gleam with someone’s reflection behind me. I look closer, and I glimpse a silhouette of what looks like Edith about to stab me with her knife again. When I raise my head to Lorina’s eyes, I understand how naive I am. She grins at me as Edith stabs me.
I was a fool again.
Chapter 22
Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum
Dr. Truckle stood looking at the miserable flamingo inside the cage, and he has no idea what its condition was in scientific terms.
What was the diagnosis of an independent mind? Was it madness to be different, to want to live, and disobey?
“You’re in a lot of trouble. You know that, right?” Dr. Truckle said to the flamingo.