Alice

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Curse

No one could think anyone’s sibling was famous except if they were famous themselves. While yes, that makes me targeted since I am the one who is her companion, it doesn’t mean that they’d know so much information about me. It’s sad to know that others who watch their family members hit big only for them to get scraps or even nothing at all, but, strangely, I’m not one of them.

What I’ve learned is that Alice has not only one lab, but many scattered across the globe. I live in the state of Washington. It’s quiet here in Bellingham. Everyone’s either high or in Seattle. I used to live in the busty streets of Chicago-- or what’s left of it.

The war was rough around the edges. Many individuals were in so much fear and agony. Alice was in for it when she was 18 and lived through it all for 5 years. She constantly states that she shuts her eyes and the screams of children are there.

Alice gasps every time she hears a doorbell, and laces the door handle one finger at a time. She sleeps like candlelight, and her breath is constantly shallow.

One thing that halts her work so much is her trembling fingers. She’s impatient.

I always wonder if I could make friends, but-- I don’t think I should. I always think that-- perhaps they’d see her and offend her.

One thing I can’t say around her insight is “love.” She goes berserk and bursts into tears. Whenever I make a phone call, I’ll need to go outside. She hates bugs, but who doesn’t?

One thing she had taught me well is to hold a gun and shoot. We don’t practice anywhere in Bellingham and need to practice when it's around the 4th of July. She tells me war stories all the time. For her birthdays, she was given cigarettes. And for Christmas, she bought one cupcake for herself. Even now, she asks for nothing more.

I looked through other war stories on the internet. They looked nothing like what she described. I confronted her, and she confessed. I denied, but she persisted. Then… with proof, she just-- revealed them to me. What did I saw? I believe her. I believe every confession ever said from now on.

It’s no secret, so I’m willing to say this. What she does is a dreamscape. During the war, she was plugging herself in, and dreaming into the mind of her enemies. She constantly continues to work with them all. Picking apart the memories and thoughts of others. She taught me how to do them herself. She’s demanded of any weaknesses. Any wives, husbands, children, residence, or launch codes were resourceful. The dream scrapers were the last resort of war, and they succeeded. After such time after, she told me that she learned them out of a hobby, then it was a habit, then an addiction, then a requirement of the study.

She gets paid to do this nowadays by some kind of taboo organization. She constantly touches my face every morning when she wakes up. It could be as early as 11:00pm, to as late as 9:30. It’s been like this for 11 years.

Sometimes they’re so vivid, she needs to run, taking me with her. We’re hunted down every day, and who knows when the hunters get close. Everyone’s too afraid of her to sleep. They know they need to eventually, so they take rest periods, which may make things worse for both her and them.

We travel back to Washington eventually. That’s our home after all. We don’t know how long, but the bottom line is that she bought this home, so we stay in it. I miss home, I miss my crush, my friends, and of course or my own mother. I can’t see them again of course, how could we? We can’t see the mind of the dead. Perhaps my mom was murdered because of her dreamscape mission, but why the others? Clearly, there are other witnesses than just those three.

I can’t go back home, but I wish I could. I wish I could see them one last time.

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