Alice felt heavier with every swig from the bottle. Its label read nothing but “drink me!” in a simple serif font. How could she resist such an enticing offer? She knew every single drop was killing her, but she was past caring about that information months ago. The sickly bloated feeling she got from each pint was all she craved anymore. She found comfort in her own discomfort, and she enjoyed the fact her mind had something else to focus on for a change. Brewed at home by Hatter and Marsha, the drink used to make Alice feel on top of the world. Bigger, stronger, better than she’d ever felt before. She could handle it in moderation before, a few glasses here and there across the week, but recently it became a nightly routine. She’d sit alone, next to a rocking chair that had been empty for what felt like a decade, clicking away at her TV remote. Pointless infomercials, static, coloured bars, she didn’t care. It was just something for her hand to do. Without it, she was scared it would find itself reaching for the kitchen knives again. The bottle got lighter as she took her last gulp.
Empty.
The bottle twinkled under the light of TV static as it rolled across the floor. As if snapping back into consciousness Alice stared into the abyss of visual noise on her screen. She wasn’t watching anything. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d consumed anything other than Hatter’s brew. Her mouth was always full of that bitter aftertaste it was now infamous for. She tried her best to heave herself out of her armchair to no avail. The bottle of brew was almost like a ball of lead in her stomach. She gritted her teeth and tried again, desperately trying not to topple over on her achy knees. She was a far cry from her days of skipping around parks and prancing through the high street. Her gym membership now collected dust under a mountain of unopened bills and a cheque book that she’d never even used. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Not enough to admire herself, but enough to see the unfortunate state she’d allowed herself to succumb to. Her blonde ringlets had since browned and knotted together due to several months of bedhead and neglect. She’d torn through her dress a few weeks ago, and it now sat balled up in the corner of her room buried under a shadow cast by her dresser. She was sure her sweatshirt reeked, but the smell of her apartment was far worse. It was a concoction of damp, old takeout wrappers and cat urine. Alice had become so accustomed to the stench that she barely even registered it as a problem. She was sure it followed her as she left the house every week to stock up on brew, but the denizens of Wonderland were far too doped up on pleasure to care.
The clock ticked faintly beneath the roar of the TV static. Its batteries needed to be replaced a few days ago now. Alice had noticed it beginning to tell the wrong time the last time she left her apartment to lumber to the corner shop, though upon forgetting the batteries she shrugged it off for the next inevitable trip to buy more brew. Blanca loved that clock, practically carrying it everywhere she went. It became synonymous with her person, never once being seen without it clutched in her delicate fingers or stashed away in her breast pocket. It was one of the many quirks that Alice loved about her, among others like the way her nose fluttered at the whiff of her favourite foods or the way her leg would thump up and down if you scratched that little spot under her neck. Was it wrong for a human to fall in love with a rabbit? Maybe. But the rules of Wonderland were quite different to those from where Alice came from. Besides, they hadn’t done anything other than kiss. That’s how Alice always justified their relationship to herself anyways. If Hatter could marry a hare, then Alice could love a rabbit. Hatter was also human, at least she thought he was. These days all Alice felt was regret when it came to Blanca. If she wasn’t so attached, then seeing what she became wouldn’t sting as much as it did.
The floor under the sodden carpet creaked and moaned under Alice’s feet. With each step she could have easily fallen through, but as evident by the state of her living space she was beyond the point of caring for her own health. She clutched a small plate in one hand, carefully keeping the fork level with her thumb. Adorning the plate was a small, colourless cube engraved with the phrase “Eat me!” on one of its faces. Despite its unsightly appearance, it was one of Hatter’s better sellers. Many people across wonderland were known to gorge on it and buy it in bulk, much like Alice with the accompanying brew that was often sold alongside it. It was a considerably smaller portion than what was standard however, specially made by Alice in whatever kitchen space she could find in the clutter of dirty dishes and piles of crumbs. She opened the door to the bedroom, the clatter of unused dishes stained with mouldy food was deafening with every step she attempted to make. Blanca was in bed, where she had been for months. Her chest rhythmically moving up and down with each breath, though Alice noted the rhythm was significantly slower than yesterday. Much like Alice, Blanca was a far cry from the person she used to be. Her fur was patchy, what little was left was wispy and unkempt. Her perky ears now drooped down to either side of her face, coloured with a noticeably pale hue. The girl who was once full of life was not really much full of anything now, her wrists and elbows protruding under her skin due to her lack of body fat and muscle mass. Alice stared at her as she lied still, listening to her heavy, dry breaths.
Alice shook the plate playfully in the doorway. She did it every time she came to deliver Blanca’s meal, though it was more routine than anything. Blanca had gone blind a few weeks ago, and Alice was sure she couldn’t hear anything anymore, though the occasional twitch of the ear proved there was at least some hearing that remained, even if small.
“I brought you some supper,” Alice said softly to no response. Not so much as a slight movement of the ear. She was just met with that same, rhythmic breathing. Alice waded through the plates and trash to get closer, as if distance would improve the near-deaf rabbit’s hearing. The bed creaked under her weight as Alice sat next to Blanca. She could’ve sworn her eyes darted to meet her own, but deep down she knew that wasn’t true.
“Can we please eat today?” Alice requested calmly, only to be met with the same response from her girlfriend.
She broke off a corner of the substance with her fork. As much as she had eaten of the stuff, even Alice admitted that it didn’t look edible. She felt bad that she’d even offered it to Blanca, but she had to eat something. The big gimmick of Hatter’s creation was that it could imitate the flavour of your favourite food, so of course it quickly became one of his many successful “pleasures” as he called them. As Alice stared into the synthetic chunk that decorated the end of her fork, she thought back to the day Hatter and his wife Marsha first arrived in Wonderland. They were hailed as saviours for their inventions. Each pleasure became an instant hit, and the two became immediate household names. It wasn’t long before their empire came tumbling down however. The more people consumed the pleasures, the more the denizens of Wonderland changed. They became sluggish, lethargic, chasing the next moment they could dope themselves up on the two’s creations again. Some even got off on the thought of overdosing, or causing others to do so. They’d inadvertently created a cycle of gratification for the people of Wonderland. Coincidentally, the day the two arrived was the day Blanca refused her first meal, though Alice was convinced they were connected somehow. If she had someone to blame, then she didn’t feel so helpless about what was happening to her girlfriend. Perhaps then there was a chance she could “save her”.
Alice moved the fork closer to Blanca’s mouth. She felt so silly, like she was feeding a child. She was half-tempted to playfully yell “here comes the aeroplane!”, but even in her endless cynicism she knew that was stooping too low. Blanca moaned quietly. Talking wasn’t exactly in her repertoire given her current state. Unfortunately it was a moan Alice knew too well. It was one of refusal.
“Baby please,” Alice pleaded, suspending the fork upright next to the rabbit’s mouth. She moaned again. Louder and harsher. Her raspy throat made anything sound harsh, but the emotion was enough to tip Alice off that it just wasn’t happening tonight, like every night. Also much like every night, Alice placed the plate and fork on Blanca’s bedside table, stroking her cheek with her thumb.
“If you change your mind, it’s right here bun,” she explained calmly. Blanca’s eyes flickered back and forth subtly, but Alice was greeted with the same response as she usually got. That same rhythmic breathing.
Alice took in the sights of her musty living room. Cheshire had long since ran away yet she still hadn’t cleaned out his litter box. In a way, cleaning it out was like admitting there was something that needed to be fixed, and that was a reality Alice and the people of Wonderland didn’t want to face. Why would they? With Hatter’s many pleasures, you can forget negative emotions even exist! Stuff yourself silly, drink your sorrows away and snort god knows what up your nose. It all made you merry all the same. Alice’s gaze turned to the growing pile of empty bottles by the mantelpiece. Blanca wouldn’t have wanted this for her, but Blanca seemingly didn’t even want to keep herself alive anymore.
“No,” she thought to herself “I can’t keep using her as an excuse for this”. She began to weep in the middle of the room. She’d spent so long blaming Hatter and his pleasures for everything that had happened to her, for everything that had happened to Blanca. His pleasures had plunged Wonderland into disarray, but that didn’t mean she had to plummet along with them.
She tumbled the bottles into a bag, and then another once the first bag ripped from the weight. For the first time in what felt like a decade, Alice was taking out the trash. Each step from her apartment building was freezing cold under her bare feet. She never noticed how rusty they were until today. She was never a fan of metal stairs to begin with, but the lift had stopped working a month ago, and the tweedles weren’t coming to service it any time soon. With each step she took she could hear the bottles clinking and rattling about in the bag over her shoulder. She tried her best to be careful, terrified they’d tear right through the bag if she moved with any sense of urgency. So even though it tested her patience, she slowed her pace and moved steadily. Much like her friend Absolem, lord knows what kind of pleasure he was doped up to now. She swung the bag to her knees as she fumbled backwards through the double doors. It was raining outside, but the rain felt like a liberty to Alice. For once her nose got to take in truly fresh air, and Alice made sure to bask in every breath. She stayed like that for a while. Her eyes closed, staring up at the dusky sky, dropping the bag to the ground with a loud crash. Alice returned to a state of mind she had long forgotten. A state of mind before Hatter, before Marsha, before Wonderland. When the only pleasures were the simplicities of life, like the rain pouring down on your face. It was a brief glimpse at her life had she not followed Blanca down that hole, had she not fallen under the Queen Of Hearts’ rule, had she not been there to see Hatter plunge Wonderland into chaos. She opened her eyes, the murky water from where the rain met her hair running down her back and her legs. For the first time in a while, Alice smiled, an action Hatter’s pleasures could never give her.