Room of Secrets (3)

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When my eyes flutter open, the first thing I see staring down at me is a little girl who looked like she could have stepped straight out of a toybox. Her halo of golden hair and round blue eyes looked carefully crafted, like a doll’s. She looks around the age of 5, holding another doll that looked just like her. They both wore a blue silk dress with blue ribbons in their curls. She’s curled up on a couch, trying to look as small as possible. 

Groaning, I turn my head away, trying to ignore the sudden pain jolting through my entire body. It feels as if all the energy had been drained from my body. Looking around, I find that we’re in a small, cozy room with pastel wallpaper, looking like a child’s playroom. The walls were covered in shelves filled with porcelain dolls that sat side by side. They were all carefully detailed, just like the one I got in the mail.

My attention falls back to the girl when she scootches closer, watery eyes glued on me. She holds her doll closer, and says quietly, “You look just like a doll.” Confused, I looked down to find that I had been changed into a nauseatingly bright orange dress, tiny butterfly beads stitched into the satin fabric. Even the orange flats I’ve been put in is a putrid shade. 

I’m lying on a small couch surrounded by only orange stuffed animals, such as foxes, tigers, and fish. Their beady eyes and stitched on smiles peer up at me as they cushion my body. Ever so slowly, I sit up to get a better view of the room. In each corner sat four couches, each had a person passed out that dressed in the same doll manner that I did. One in blue, teal, purple, and silver. Any color was better than the horrid color I wore. In the middle of the room sat a glass table set up for a teaparty, teacups and cookies spread out in front of five chairs. Next to each spot was a piece of paper that read “Eat Me”. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the lady in white finally move, using her arm to cover her face. She wore a beautiful fairytale dress with satin sleeves and a little flared skirt. Her wavy chestnut hair was pulled back into a fishbraid, a chameleon clip holding it in place. She couldn’t be older than thirty, yet she looked utterly exhausted. I think we all do.

After a moment, she eventually removes her arm, her dark brown eyes searching the room. Her expression remains calm, analyzing her situation. Her eyes finally stop on me and the child, narrowing slightly. “Where are we?”

I glance at the child who’s still rolled up in a ball, lost in her own head. I answer honestly. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember being brought here, but it looks like we’re in a child’s playroom.”

The white lady’s eyes continued their search around the room, lost in her observations. “I think I remember a… talking rabbit?” The little girl’s eyes finally snap to hers and I tense at the sudden reminder. Right, the talking rabbit with the pocketwatch.

A dramatic groan breaks the tension as the teen in purple forces his lids open. He sits up frantically, his eyes darting around the room, finally landing on us. He still looks to be in his late teens, despite the dark suit he was wearing. The purple blazer fit him perfectly, giving him a more sharp and mature look with a crisp light shirt underneath it. Every strand of his blonde waves were slicked back with hair gel.

“Who-” he starts with an accent, his green green eyes darting to each of us with a fearful expression. He stops himself, the look quickly changing into a look of disgust. “I know I’m a very wanted man, but to be placed in a room with such uneducated people is an insult to my family’s name.”

He gazes up at the wall, silently searching for something. “This is adorable, really,” he says, mockingly. “Whoever you are, you must feel so powerful hiding behind your cameras.” Finally, he looks back at us before his expression softens. “I do apologize that you had to see that. It's just that this isn’t my first time getting kidnapped. WIth such a powerful name behind me, I doubt I’ll be here for much longer. My father will be paying for my ransom as soon as he finds out I’m missing.”

“Your… family name?” I asked, confused. The boy’s face lit up at the opportunity to introduce himself. “I am Liam Alexander Kingley, the third. My family owns Kingley Enterprises. And having been in this type of situation before, I can tell you that it’s important that we get along.” His accent sounds awfully familiar… British, maybe.

The lady in white speaks, clearly unimpressed with Liam’s introduction. “And when you call us ‘uneducated’? Was that also your way of ‘getting along’ with all of us?” She has an accent too, or maybe I’m just overthinking it. Liam clears his throat, smiling politely. “A slip of the tongue, I assure you,” he explains. “I meant you guys were less… fortunate when it comes to money. Nothing meant to be offensive.” Mid Atlantic accent, I definitely hear it now. 

“It appears that another bunch of dreamers are standing outside my threshold,” booms a slow, tired voice. “They always come knocking, but they never return quite the same.” Scanning the room for the third time, I realized that the voice was coming from a tall, warped door. Its doorknob was unlike any I’ve ever seen, it oddly melted into something representing a face. Its dull eyes bore into us, indifferent and cold.

Right before I can convince myself I imagined it, the door speaks again. “You will find no welcome through here. I only open for the uninvited.” I blinked, unable to understand what I was seeing. “The moment you go forward, you will look back and see nothing was ever there.” I take a wary step closer, eyes glued on the talking unanimated object in front of me. “How curious…” I marvel, heart pounding.

Its eyes follow me as I cautiously approach, blinking slowly. “Iris Cane,” it drawls, stopping me in my tracks. “Age 20. A fantasy author with ADD.” A chill creeps through me and the doorknobs' eyes move to the little girl in pink, who is still unresponsive to everything going on. “Rue Whitmore, age 6. An orphan with insecure attachment disorder.”

Liam’s jaw locks as the doorknob’s eyes reach him. “Liam Kingsley, soon to take over his father’s company. Age 19, yet diagnosed to have a severe narcissistic personality.” Liam glowers but gets ignored as the doorknob moves on to the lady in white. “Jules Carter, age 30. A psychiatrist, with surprisingly no mental illnesses herself.” Silently motioning towards the last person, the man in gray, whose eyes finally had opened. “Lastly, Eli Vale, age 15. A mental patient at Hallow Institute, with schizophrenia.”

“So you know who we are?” Jules inquired, crouching down to its eye level. “So do you know why we were brought here? Where are we?” The doorknob’s mouth creaks up into an unhinged smile. “Welcome to Wonderland,” it droned. “It’s been waiting for your arrival.”

Eli jerked forward, his gray eyes wide under his overgrown hair. He was the only one who was dressed up yet still looked totally lifeless. His black hair was slicked to the side with gel, yet still stood up at the ends. His skin looked pale, almost feverish, and his thin bones were visible through his suit. 

Eli sucks in a sharp breath. “Wonder…land?” His hands shook as he gripped the couch beneath him, fingernails digging into the velvet cushions. His gaze darts frantically to the walls, a look of recognition and desperation on his face. Without warning, he bolts out of his seat, scurrying towards the door and yanking frantically at the handle. “No, no, no…” he muttered, his breathing becoming ragged. “Not again, please-”

“This isn’t how you leave, Mr. Vale, and we both know it,” the knob replies cooly, despite his knob being feverishly yanked on. “You need to play the game by the rules or I won’t open.” There’s a long pause throughout the room.

“Game?” Liam questions and the doorknob hums in agreement. “Nothing too difficult I believe,” it drawls. “Just a simple riddle to answer before you can leave.”

“I’m not doing this again!” Eli snaps, yanking his hand away from the door like it burned him. “I can’t f*****g do this again!” The handle ignored him with an interruption of his own, looking everybody over slowly. “I laugh when you cry, I feed when you break. The more you starve me, the more I will take.”

The room falls silent again, a chill filling the air. Laugh when you cry? Feeds when you break? Sounds like a type of monster. Maybe a demon, perhaps? But how do you starve a demon? Through Jesus? Though I highly doubt Jesus is the answer…

Breaking the silence, Jules finally speaks. “Addiction,” she answers carefully, thinking through it. “It provides the illusion of relief, but relapse often deepens the cycle. Withdrawal intensifies the discomfort, and the more you try to suppress the craving, the more consuming it can become.”

The doorknob closes its eyes as if trying to soak in the tension between all of us. “That’s a good answer, but not the one I’m seeking,” he hums, opening its metallic eyes. “Try again.” I keep Eli out of the corner of my eye as Liam tries with his own answer. Eli has begun pulling the dolls off the shelves, looking for something. “Then it's guilt,” Liam says, matter-of-factly. “It taunts you when you're already suffering and the more you slip up, the more the guilt eats you alive. It thrives on being ignored.”

In the other corner of the room, I see that Rue had finally snapped out of her weird trance and is now slowly making her way to the tea table. She reaches on her tiptoes to grab a cookie from one of the plates, taking a large bite out of it. 

“Also not the answer I was looking for,” the handle drawl,drawing my attention back to the conversation at hand. Its eyes lock on mine, waiting expectantly. “And your answer?” I feel both Liam’s and Jules’ eyes on me as well.

“I’m not too great at riddles,” I reply, awkwardly. But when its eyes still remained on me, I shifted through my thoughts quickly. Don’t say Jesus, don’t say Jesus… Jesus is most definitely not the answer it's looking for.

“I laugh when you cry,” I repeated slowly, thinking aloud. “Feed when you break… the more I eat, the more you…” “The more you starve me, the more I take,” the handle corrects and my stomach churns. “Right, right. Starve.”

My face burns as I try to think it through. I hate riddles. They never make any damn sense. Why are they worded so weirdly? Not only can I never understand them, but I can’t remember much either. It was like two sentences yet I couldn’t remember the second half of it! Maybe it's shame. Shame mocks you in your lowest moments, making you feel like s**t, and it spreads quickly. Yeah, that’s it.

I glance back up to find everyone’s eyes on me and quickly close my mouth before I can answer stupidly. No, shame can’t be right. Shame is too easy. Nothing about this is easy. The rabbit, the room, the talking door. It’s crazy. Absolute madness.

“Well?” the doorknob inquired and I blurted out exactly that. “Maddness,” I repeat my thoughts. “So like, it can grab an emotion you have and twist it into something bigger and darker. The more stressed out someone gets, the stronger it gets too. Trying to ignore it just consumes your thoughts until it feels like you’re losing it. It’s like a never ending loop.”

The door slowly creaks open, revealing a light from the other side. “We’re all mad here,” the door assures us. “So be careful who you trust.” Eli’s head perks up as the door squeaks open, stopping his search on the shelves. Liam snickers cooly and straightens his suit. “That would have been my second guess,” he starts. “I told them I was too valuable to keep in here-” Pushing Liam aside, Eli frantically makes his way towards the exit. Liam scoffs but still follows with Jules right on his heels.