Petrol Wonderland

Eleven | Rage

The cool, moist bread split easily and a mushy squirt of green burst out from her tiny entrance point. Cleo pushed it all into the corner of her cheek and tried not to allow any of the mysterious contents down her throat. She winced. It tasted like avocado and pesto and she resisted the overwhelming urge to spit it out. Beside her, Blake was taking a cautious sip of her drink.

Silence stretched out in the cool room. The two sat still and both held the strange concoctions in their mouth, hoping and praying to God that the other girl had the poison mixed in. As bad as such a thing seemed, as cruel and inhumane, it was what they wanted in that moment more than anything. It was the simple urge of any sane animal to remain alive and kicking for as long as possible.

A chorus of clocks ticked on in their little circular crowd. Their ticks were like laughter and it burned into Cleo's mind the more she listened. Her heartbeat grew faster to match their neverending pace. Didn't the things ever get tired?

Panic was setting in now and her eyes were becoming painfully dry. She could feel the disgusting mixture melting and dissolving in her mouth's saliva and she hated the idea of allowing even a microscopic amount anywhere near her stomach. She didn't know anything about nerve agents and she didn't want to find out. Desperately, the girl tried to push her tongue closer into the roof of her mouth to the point it ached and twitched from the effort and attempted to squeeze her throat closed until her breathing became difficult and labored.

How on earth did she end up here? How on earth did she end up sat there tied to a chair, wishing that Blake would start coughing and jerking uncontrollably as the poison took over her body and killed her? It was crazy to think about how easily her humanity had slipped. It felt wrong yet at the same time made so much sense. This was survival and it was survival of the fittest.

Yet, at the same time, a nagging feeling plagued her mind. She drowned it beneath a wave of hope but couldn't help hear its cry. The Hatter didn't like her, which was fine. She didn't like him in the slightest bit either and didn't plan on trying to impress him, but at the same time, he was the man who held her life in his dainty grasp. Only he knew which one was poisoned, right? What if he'd sabotaged her? What if he'd purposely given Blake the good treat and her the bad?

That was when, rather unexpectedly, a tickling sensation erupted in her throat. Her eyes bulged and she suppressed the urge to cough, convinced that this was it. She was right. He'd poisoned her and she was dying. Her nerves would fire uncontrollably and she'd convulse and spasm until she suffocated.

After a good further minute of motionless tension, Hatter and Rabbit shared a look...

... and then began to laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh.

The sound was hysterical. A horrible, scraping noise like nails against a chalkboard or cutlery scratching a plate. The inside joke they were sharing seemed to be so hilarious that they doubled over and clutched onto each other and rubbed tears roughly from their eyes. Cleo all but forgot the peculiar feeling in the base of her throat, distracted by their explosive outburst. Among the bout of crippling laughter, Rabbit's hold even slipped on his gun and it clattered to the floor.

"Oh... I can't... It's too," said Hatter between shaky gulps of air. "So... funny."

Cleo's eyes were pulled open wide and she had the horrible desire to burst into tears. One of them was about to die and they were laughing. And not just laughing: howling to the point of literal tears. She didn't understand at all. Why were they laughing? Her attention flashed to Blake to see if the other girl was spasming and convulsing, perhaps they were laughing at her death? But they weren't. The other girl sat looking just as still and confused as her. Cleo knit her eyebrows together and spat out the mushy green paste of the sandwich onto the table. She was oh so tired of all of this.