Waltraud informs me that it’s too late for me to start shock therapy, but she promises me great pain soon. She and Ogier aren't finished with me yet, after I tried escaping last time. I see a plaster on her nose from when I pushed her face in the bucket. Whatever pain they impose on me, it won't be as bad as knowing there are killers out there killing young girls.
I enter my cell and place my flower at the wall with the slight crack in it. Tomorrow she'll enjoy sunshine for ten minutes again. Before I lay to sleep, I run my fingers on the writing on the wall. It still says the fourteenth of January and has a key drawn underneath. I know for a fact that we're not in January. It’s mid-December. Christmas is on the way. I have no idea what the date means. Why January the fourteenth?
As for the key, I have no clue what it means. Who wrote this on my wall?
Tired of questioning, I call it a day, and lay me down to sleep.
***
Usually my dreams in the asylum are short and make no sense. This time I dream of standing at a bus stop. I look younger, probably seventeen. I'm holding someone's hand. I think it must be Adam J. Dixon’s. His is wearing a hood and I can't see his face. My first impression is that he is not Adam. He could be the Pillar playing games with me. Even worse, the Cheshire Cat. After all, I don't know what Adam and the Cheshire look like. How can I forget the face of someone I loved?
Whoever I am holding hands with squeezes it in a gentle way. It's a warm squeeze, filled with love and care. I need it. I haven't felt this safe before. It's not the Cheshire or the Pillar. It has to be Adam.
A number of other students come over and wait at the bus stop. They are all happy. They are laughing. They high-five Adam and talk to him. They call him Aay Jay. I am afraid they'll ignore me. None of their faces ring a bell, and they are supposed to be my classmates.
"Alice!" a girl cheers. And then another. They raise their hands to high-five me. Hesitantly, I clap back. They ask me how I have been. One girl whispers in my ear that she had always had an eye on Adam, but now that we're together, she wishes me luck. She doesn't say it in a mean way. She is happy for me. She even points at my sisters, Lorina and Elsie, standing at the bus stop opposite to us. They don’t say a word. Their eyes say it all. They don’t like me.
Adam is taller than me. He bows his head with the hood still on and whispers in my ear. "I heard that," his voice is so musical, I want to play it over and over again. "They don't know that I am the lucky one," he squeezes my hand again.
The bus arrives before I get to talk back to him, or see his face. He pulls me ahead and we get on the yellow bus. The atmosphere is ethereal. Everything just fits. I think the sky is even pinkish in my dream. If this was my life before the asylum, then I'm better off dead now, without Adam and my friends.
Yes, I know I'm dreaming and it seems I'm the only who knows this is in the past. The others they are just happy, cracking jokes. I am supposed to have spent a lot of time with them, but I don't remember one face. The bus takes off, and I'm starting to doubt we're heading to school, or we wouldn't be that happy.
Adam keeps talking to the others, while I'm occupied with the bus. My sisters said I killed everyone on a bus. Could it be this one? I stand up and walk the aisle, looking for a stranger on the bus. It's my gut feeling that tells me there is an intruder in here. I know I'm not crazy. I couldn’t have killed all those happy people I seem to love. Why would I?
I eye each passenger, but don't see someone I know or suspect. It even crosses my mind that I might find my envious sisters on the bus. Maybe they did it, but they aren't here.
I reach the beginning of the bus, near the driver's seat, when I realize who the intruder is. The bus driver has rabbit ears.
I rub my eyes and stare back at everyone. They don’t seem to see that. I take a step forward and notice the sign says the bus is driving to 83 St. Aldates Street in Oxford, the same street where I got off at the Tom Tower this morning.
"You’re late, you’re late, for an important date," a voice mocks me. A voice I hate the most. It's the rabbit driver. He is the same rabbit I see in the mirror, with his white hair dangling down his face, except I can see his teeth now. They are pointed, like a scary clown. The rabbit has a pocket watch dangling from his hand.
“Leave me alone,” I say. “I’m not mad.”
“How is this for madness?” The rabbit pushes the gas pedal and speeds up, crossing over to the opposite side of the road. The bus is swooshing against the cars driving our direction. He wants to kill us all. I jump on him and grip the wheel, trying to stop the bus, but the rabbit is too strong. I can't steer the wheel.
My friends in the back scream, “Don’t do it, Alice! Don't kill us!"
I have no idea why they think it’s me. I turn back and the rabbit is gone. The bus is on the loose. When I raise my head to look at the cars, glass splinters in my face. We've already crashed. It's time to wake up from the dream. How in the world did I survive this?
Chapter 30
Public Transportation Bus, Oxford