A/N: I do not feel it necessary to point out that I do not own Twilight. Nor would I ever want it.
P.S: This is a human fic. Enjoy :D
A very wise man once wrote that ‘Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.’ I wonder if he knew what it felt like to succumb to those wraiths.
I wonder if he knew what it felt like to be me.
It might have been my third or fourth day without sleep. A normal human being should have been shutting down by now. But I was far from normal. Indeed, I had never claimed to be anywhere near it. Now it seemed as though my senses were heightened, racing. My golden eyes dashed about the room, ears twitching at even the slightest noise. Watingwaitingwaiting. Always waiting for something. I was beginning to think it wouldn’t ever come.
“Mister Whitlock,” the man’s harsh voice echoed throughout the miniscule room, ringing in my ears until it hurt. “How are you feeling?”
I hated that question. Four simply words that demanded an answer so complex it could have taken eons to reply. Perhaps mere words could not even express it. Emotions were much too chaotic to be explained completely.
But that was why I was here, wasn’t I? They told me that nothing was wrong with me, that I was just as sane as anyone else. But if that were true I wouldn’t be locked up in here while the rest of the world went on living. These were the things that I should have been saying to the man across the mahogany ocean. All the things he didn’t want to hear.
“Fine,” I muttered. I should have been trying harder but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I could not live their lie for them.
“Why do you insist upon playing these games with me, Jasper?” The man demanded. “I only want what’s best for you.”
No, he didn’t. I was a rat in a cage. I was an experiment. I was a plague, and he was determined to find the cure. Well, you couldn’t heal what wasn’t sick.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, harder this time. “I don’t know what games you’re speaking of.”
He held my gaze steadily for but a moment, dropping his eyes to the papers atop his desk. I moved my own stare to the window, wondering what it would be like to step outside for but a moment. To feel the sun and the wind, to hear the birds instead of the deathly screams of the other prisoners here.
“Why am I here?” I demanded of him. “What have I done to deserve this?” It was the same question I’d been asking since the beginning.
“We’ve been over this, Jasper. You know very well why you are here.” His tone was controlled. He’d given up on me long ago. I knew that. Now he was just carrying out his job until I wound up so bad I just simply died one night. Or something like that.
As a matter of fact we had not been over it and I did not know what I was doing there. And maybe that was making me crazier than anything else.
Days all tended to be the same in that place. I awoke with the sun, watching the light seep in through the window above my bed. It was much too small for me to climb through, and the glass was probably bulletproof anyway. Escape was pointless, I thought. And then I thought, everything is pretty pointless.
Boredom is by far the ultimate punishment. Within a half hour, I had grown so restless it was nauseating. With a groan I pushed myself up off the God-awful mattress and onto my feet. I stretched a little bit, wincing as my back cracked with a sickening crunch. Pain shot through my body. I barely felt it.
On the table against the wall there sat a well-worn copy of Alice in Wonderland. Good behavior was rewarded with little things, things to help ease the boredom. Books, or notebooks, or sketchpads, depending on what you were into. I’d managed to earn a couple books, and when a wave hit me bad enough, I would lose myself in them. I would throw myself into the main character’s shoes, pretending I was singing with the flowers or outsmarting the Queen of Hearts. I felt some sort of connection to the girl, so hopelessly trapped in the world she had created for herself, the hells of her mind which she could not escape.
I went to it, lifted it up. The cover showed Alice, with her curls of golden silk, leaning up against a mushroom of the brightest red. Oh, I thought, how it would feel to touch her hair, to hold her in my arms, to shield her from the monsters and ghosts that lived inside her. I would not let them win.