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“You’re late, young Malice, but always on schedule. Time for tea, don’t you agree?” Hatter gestures to the tabletop. White doilies hold empty plates, cups on saucers holding dust as opposed to liquid. The teapot in the center shudders, Miss Dormouse popping her head upwards to wear the lid like a head piece. I sigh in relief that he’s at least had company, rushing forward to take Hatter’s hands in mine.
“Hatter. You’ve been right here, the entire time.” Tears prick my eyes, a hitch in my voice. Hatter pats my hand, drawing me towards a drawing of a fireplace, much like the one in his home.
“I’m neither here, nor anywhere but exactly where I am.” His smile is exactly as I remember it. A gap in his front teeth, a crooked tilt to his mouth. The blue eye watches me while the green one tracks Miss Dormouse hopping closer. She jumps from the table, landing on my shoulder and sniffs at the back of my ear just like Stan did. Oh, I can’t wait to introduce the pair of them when I get out of here. If I get out of here.
“I’ve been so stupid,” I slap myself in the center of the forehead. Hatter catches my hand, pulling it back when I try to do it again.
“Stupidity is a far cry from sensibility.” He follows a thought with his eyes now in sync, his mouth parted to say something else. Then he smiles. Guiding me to a chair, Hatter waits for me to sit and tucks me towards the table. He takes the opposite side, blowing out his cup and using the handkerchief in his jacket pocket to bat the dust residue away. Leaning over, he does the same to mine, placing the cup delicately on the saucer and stares at me expectantly.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I breathe, slowly shaking my head. He tilts his.
“How else should I be?”
“Dead,” I shrug. “Tortured, drained of your you-ness.”
“Sounds dreadful,” he shudders and I laugh through rising tears. Stark orange brows bob beneath the rim of his large hat, spikey hair of the same color flicking free at his nape. Amongst a purple and green patched jacket, a marvelous polka dot yellow bow bursts from his neck. Lifting his finger, he lifts the teacup and sips, a real slurp drifting around the room. I frown down at my own, spying the full cup of tea which wasn’t there before.
“Fantasies become reality in here,” Miss Dormouse slides down the length of my arm and plops into my cup. “Whatever you wish for, except the way out. Only the club’s owner can release the exit.” Sinking her back down, she sighs in contentment, her tail flicking around the saucers as she takes her bath. Peering around the room, my mouth inclines to the side.
“Then why does it…” I stop mid-question at Hatter’s shocked expression. I know, I know. Too much sense. The thing I’ve been trying to outrun my entire life, yet it found me in the one place it shouldn’t be needed. But even as I try to quell the questions batting around my skull, an answer is produced. The room looks this way because it’s exactly how Hatter wants it. He’s been sitting here, mostly alone, waiting for me.
Closing my eyes, I puff out my cheeks. As pleasant as I’m sure it could be, I can’t sit here for an eternity. Not when Cash is strolling around out there, his Queen on his arm. There’s some notion of saving Wonderlust in that sentiment but I’m lucid enough to admit to myself my motive is spurred by jealously. I freed that bitch. She should be kissing my feet while Cash is massaging my shoulders. Then there’s Tweed…yeah, no, we’re not going there right now.
“You’re plagued,” Hatter places down his cup. At first, I thought he was inferring to my mental state, but as I nod, my head wobbles and a rush of dizziness knocks me sideway from my chair. My hands are shaking and that cold sweat from earlier is back. Hatter drops on his knees before me, turning my hands over several times in search for something. “Black magic is at play here,” he speaks gravely.
“Black…magic?” I repeat back. “Like, the Queen of Spades?” As the words leave my mouth, Hatter’s jaw tightens and I wince. Yeah, I thought so. Hiding my shudder under his scrutiny, I continue on. “There was a trial. A quest of sorts. A lengthy journey, rough terrains, an injury, some problem solving, an ambush, a death, a betrayal. Couldn’t be any more cliché if I tried. Anyways, the Queen was a weed and she attacked me with some vines. One of the thorns went in my hand and disappeared. I forgot about it to be honest.” Sinking my head between my shoulders, Hatter holds my stare until I’m sure my eyes are about to bleed.
“Your hair wants cutting,” he takes a strand of my mane in his fingers. Twizzling it, he returns to the table, sitting a seat on from where he was before. Fresh dusty cup for him to blow into and produce a stick of butter from his pocket to stir into the central tea pot.
“Hatter,” I say, a low warning in my tone. “What is the black magic going to do to me?”
“Magic attacks magic. You’re perfectly safe, being moderately human.” Rounding the table, I take the tea pot out of his hands before he is able to pour a cup of cancer into his cup.
“Stay with my train of thought,” I tell him and he immediately looks for a train. “I can...conjure things. Whatever I believe to be true, is. Does that count as magic?” Hatter presses his lips together tight, as if he doesn’t like the answer he’s due to give. I’ll take that as a yes. “And what would happen to one who isn’t moderately human?”
“Worry is the disturbance of hope,” is all I receive and I hang my head. Fuck, it’s bad. Really bloody bad by the way Hatter avoids my gaze and produces a second bar of butter, just to chew on the edge. “As long as you keep you insanity intact, you shall prevail. My muchness has already taken ahold. It won’t be long now.” Hatter gestures a hand towards the wall of scribbles and I tiptoe closer.
I appear in the drawings many times, always surrounded by a line of rainbow color, ranging in thickness. The word ‘Malice’ repeated often with an accurate definition circled below.‘Noun. The desire to harm someone; to mean ill will. Synonyms: spite, malevolence, animosity.’All of the above I want to remind Cash of while I ring his fucking neck with my thighs. Clothes on. Let my sweet juices be the last his heightened sense of smell inhales, after he lost out on screwing me by screwing me over.
Speaking of which, my eyes travel the drawings as if re-watching my adventures. From the institution to the twins in the visitors’ room and beyond. My return to Wonderlust, the town, Humpty Dainty, the maze, the wood. I sure know how to get around. In most, the twins are at my sides. If I hadn’t been trapped in here by him, I’d never have guessed Cash was the twin with pointy-down eyebrows and a cruel smile in every deception. But Hatter knew.
“Who are you?” Hatter’s voice comes close to my ear and I flinch. He tilts his head into my eyeline and I frown, looking back to the drawings.
“A gullible horny bitch?” I guess, not seeing what he’s referencing. Hatter grips my chin and twists my head up to the top corner of the wall.
“Who. Are. You?” he repeats. I stare upon our first encounter in stickman form. Hatter stands beside a tree, the rainbow lines circling him thick as my four fingers pressed together. The small girl beside him has the same. Knowing better than to ask sensible questions, I point to the colors and wait for him to fill in the gaps. “Muchness,” he nods, slinking back towards the table.
“I have muchness?” I peer over my shoulder. Miss Dormouse has left her beige bath and is drying her ass on the tablecloth. She pauses to nod at me.
“Tell me, young Malice. Why were you permitted entry to our world above all others? Isn’t it obvious?” Hatter’s smile returns, a full beam of teeth and joy, his arms raised high at his wall of doodled madness.
“Our skill is seeing through a kaleidoscope,
where others see shades of black.
Our magic is believing it into reality,
And our duty to bring the colors back.”
