Page 1 of Tamed By You

Prologue

Ali

Ali, fifteen years old

“Before Alice got to Wonderland, she had to fall first.”

But what if you feel like all you do is fall and never reach it? What if some of us are just destined to free fall into oblivion with no light in sight? For as long as I can remember, all I can recall is falling. I don't remember a time when I wasn't. I think some people are just born with tragedy and pain in their lives. Perhaps some of us are never meant to reach Wonderland and have to make the best of the fall.

“Alice?”

“Alice, can you hear me?”

“Alice it's time to wake up.”

My heavy eyelids open slowly, bright white lights come into view. I hear a voice, but I don't see anyone.

Is this Wonderland? Did I finally stop falling?

“How are you feeling Alice?” a gentle female voice asks.

“Alice, dear, are you feeling any pain?” The voice was far too gentle to be my mom’s.

I fight to open my eyes again, trying to focus and figure out where I've landed.

Bright white lights burn my eyes, the sound of beeping floods my ears, blue curtains and white walls come into view. I look down to see long white socks covering my legs and a paper gown drowning my small frame.

Where am I?

“Do you have any pain, Alice? If you do, we can get you something” I turn to look at a lady, maybe in her fifties at a guess. Mousy brown hair, round green eyes with a smile that oozes kindness.

“No, no pain.” My throat feels raw, my voice hoarse like I've spent hours screaming.

“Let me get you some water.” She smiles, pouring water into a plastic cup and handing it to me.

I gratefully accept, taking a sip, needing this burn in my throat to leave.

“The procedure took a little longer than they anticipated, so you may have some discomfort in your throat from the tube and some pain later from the surgery.

Surgery?

“Where's my mom?” I ask looking round the room. White walls, white floors, bright lights. The only thing that isn’t white and clinical is the TV screen on the wall opposite me.

I face the nurse who’s looking at me, brows furrowed, and silence falls between us.

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, Valarie Hart. Is she here?” I ask, taking another sip of my water. Welcoming the cold liquid as it soothes my throat.

The kind lady takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, her fingers feeling a little rough and dry against my soft skin and it's then I notice the cannula sticking out my hand. I follow the line of the wire that leads to a clear bag of liquid.

“Erm, we have a Carol Simpson as your contact, she will be here to collect you tomorrow.”

Carol? I don't know a Carol.

And then it hits me, like a dodgeball to the face. I know exactly who Carol is. Suddenly my ribs feel too tight for my frame, and it feels impossible to take in a breath. I drop my cup, watching the water pool over my hospital gown as it absorbs every droplet.

Flashbacks flicker through my mind like an evening lightning storm.

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