Chapter Text
Trouble is brewing.
It is a grey, lifeless day. The weather outside is cold and dreary; the telltale signs of a rainstorm.
Alice cradles her stuffed fox and watches the clouds conjure nightmares above her.
Kara is coming back today. Todd is going to break her again. She’s seen the new baggie of red ice in the laundry detergent. He’s always at his worst when he’s high.
The world is calm right now, bordering on peaceful despite its eeriness. Once that black pickup truck pulls back up in front of the house, it’s won’t be.
Alice has seen the other little girls in the neighborhood. She’s seen them ride their bikes with ease and laugh freely without a care in the world. Her burning envy thrives as a result.
She’s not a little girl, but damn it, Alice knows she’s a little girl. And while she doesn’t remember when she deviated, she does remember the barrage of abuses that lead to it.
Five years since her activation, she has encountered horrors a child should never have to face. She has witnessed Kara become a victim to just as many. There’s only so much they can take before they’re damaged beyond repair.
The clouds slowly engulf one another, like the rage manifesting inside her. She’s peeled back the layers of her abuse, analyzed every tiny detail, and has come to the conclusion she has been wronged . Once she may have believed it to be her own fault. When Todd first hit her, when Kara had first been brought home, when Todd broke them both for the first time.
Never has Kara been this broken before, to the point she’s needed to be reset. How much of her is gone? How much of her is left?
It doesn’t matter. Kara will always be Kara, and Alice will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
Without even knowing why, Alice has reached the point she can’t stand it anymore. The snarls, the fists, the torment. It all has to end. She could wonder why now it’s been enough. Maybe she should. But not now. Not when Kara is stepping out onto the front lawn.
Right now, Alice needs a plan.
Her Kara isn’t gone. No, she’s just trapped somewhere inside herself. At least, that’s what Alice has to believe.
Regardless, before anything can be done Kara needs to deviate. The Kara who once held her with more passion than could ever be programmed into her. If Alice can’t wake her up, she’ll swallow the discomfort and order Kara around.
She lingers by Kara as she cleans, pretending to play with her toy as to not catch Todd’s attention. Something about the mechanical Kara’s mechanical movements hurt worse than any hand Todd has ever laid on her. Still, she watches as Kara cleans and cleans and cleans.
The kitchen. The living room. The backyard. The laundry room. Todd’s room. The bathroom. Finally, Alice’s room.
When Kara comes in, she acts her part. The skittish nine-year old who hides underneath her blanket fort. She clings to her fox tightly, forcing her lip to quiver. Kara makes the bed she never uses and opens the window she’s dreamt of climbing out of.
Alice can tell Kara wants to talk to her. There’s no denying her domestic protocols, and Alice’s sweet, little face is too irresistible to pass up. She kneels delicately, as if moving any faster would break the floor beneath their feet.
“I’m sure we used to be good friends before I was reset.”
Alice looks into her eyes. She wonders if she should activate her artificial tears. No, that may be overselling it a bit. Better save those for when she really needs it.
“Your father said you chose my name. Kara…”
Her LED is spinning blue, blue, blue. Alice wants to pluck it from her temple and chuck it outside.
“You’re awfully quiet.”
Kara’s been talking this whole time and Alice isn’t really listening. Maybe she doesn't need to. If she pushes hard enough, maybe her Kara will come back to her.
Like any little girl, Alice’s impulses get the best of her. She tries to do what she should’ve waited a few days to try. But she needs her Kara, and she needs to be free of this house.
She grabs Kara’s wrist, her skin receding back to her own. Kara’s jaw goes slack, unable to stop Alice’s invasion into her mind.
Todd broke you. He’s going to break you again. We have to leave.
Kara is blinking rapidly. Her LED is yellow, yellow, red, yellow. It’s a start.
You’re...you’re not a little girl.
Alice’s thirium pump aches.
I am a little girl. Please Kara. You have to remember. I need you to listen to me.
I don’t- Kara tries to yank her arm back. “I can’t take orders from you.”
“We’re in danger, Kara,” Alice hisses. She digs her nails into Kara’s skin. It won’t hurt either of them, not where it counts. “I can save you, but you have to do what I say. I have a plan. I have-”
Kara stands suddenly. Alice is powerless to stop her. “There’s something wrong with your programming. Do you want me to inform Todd of your needed repairs?”
She can’t be gone. She’s not gone. Kara could never be gone.
If there’s no Kara, then there’s no freedom Alice could ever want.
“No…” she answers. The waver in her voice is sincere this time. “I-I’ll tell him myself.”
Kara nods and takes her leave. She has no obligation to talk to Alice anymore. Alice crawls under her musty bed sheets, tucking her knees to her chest. She cries like she’s never cried before.
It happens, just like Alice knew it would. Todd starts rambling, going off about the wife who left him, the daughter she took with her, the drugs he buried his old self under. All the while, Kara is eyeing her down, unsure of whether to fill her glass of water or not. It’s a miracle she made Alice dinner to begin with.
Even if Alice could eat, she wouldn’t have the chance to. The table goes flying, Todd’s hand comes down thundering, and Alice is running before she even realizes it.
It always happens, and when it does it’s fast. Faster than a lightning strike. Faster than the jackhammering of her thirium pump. Todd is still downstairs, roaring like a freight train, but soon he’ll find her. Alice may be able to squeeze herself into the smallest of places, but she’s never small enough.
Rain pounds against her window. Alice swears she can feel the thick droplets slamming against her flimsy fort. She curls herself into a ball, rocking back and forth, futile not to act her age in this instance.
He hasn’t been this loud since Kara was reset. Louder, even. She holds herself tighter and curses the world. Curses Todd. Curses Kara for leaving her. Curses everyone and everything.
The door opens, and Alice is ready to go down spouting those same insults. She holds her tongue instead.
Kara runs in, slams the door, and locks it tight. There’s a gun in her hand, and that hand is shaking.
Her LED is red, red, red.
It’s an ugly color, somewhere between that of dried blood and canned cherry. Alice has never seen a more comforting shade.
Kara looks to her, eyes wide with fear. “What do we do?”
Alice doesn’t hesitate. “Window.”
They never use the gun, but they don’t dare leave that hell without it. When they climb onto the bus, Kara is quick to tuck it under her uniform and smooth out the wrinkles.
Alice’s bus seat is flatter than a pancake and smells like weed. She has never felt safer.
Kara looks back as the bus pulls away. Alice doesn’t dare.