Madness, p.1
Madness, page 1
Madness
N.E. STEVENSON
Copyright © 2024 N.E. Stevenson.
All Rights Reserved.
Madness
Edited by ApolloEditorialServices
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, people, or incidents is coincidental.
While the author may use their own experiences with specific instances, the book is entirely fictional.
Created with Vellum
Contents
Untitled
Untitled
Trigger Warnings
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Blurb
Eden Institute - aka Wonderland
It is where those haunted by madness find themselves, lost down the rabbit hole of their own minds.
I’m sent there for committing a dark deed, grappling with the same madness that once consumed Alice.
As I navigate the twisted pathways of Wonderland, the looming question remains: Will I emerge unscathed, or will the madness overpower me?
The lines between reality and delusion blur.
I AM MAD AFTER ALL
This book is dedicated to my dad.
19.08.1955 – 26.07.2024
I will meet you where the sky meets the ocean.
This idea came to me in the shower… sexy, I know—but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I had two other projects planned for release, but when I sat down to write, all I could think about was writing Al’s story.
The more I thought about it, the more I fell in love with it.
So here we are – Al’s story.
Not thee Alice. Not Alice. Just Al, but oh my god, it’s going to be Madness (Get it…).
There are side characters that have a multitude of mental health problems, but we only delve into one of them.
Hare.
Hare has global development delay—for those of you who do not know what this is, Hare’s mind is that of a younger person. This was caused by the extreme trauma that he experienced as a child.
There are trigger warnings on the next page, but Hare is not part of the harem—nor will he ever be.
He does not get better.
His mind is stuck of that as a child for the rest of his life, but he will be protected throughout this series by the others and will be part of the HEA.
This book is a Why Choose with no MM, but there are group scenes with multiple men and our FMC.
Welcome to Wonderland Readers – Where No One Escapes.
Trigger Warnings
This series contains subjects that may be sensitive to readers. Your mental health has to come first
The list: -
Delusions.
Madness.
Self-Harm.
A character who believes he can speak to animals.
Child abuse - (Multiple Characters.)
Coercion.
Medical Trauma.
Pregnancy.
Male sexual assault.
Murder – Off, off, off with her bloody fucking head.
Involuntary Hospitalisation – Seriously fuck the parents in this series.
Gambling. OCD.
Over the Top obsessed men.
Blood play.
Drugging of FMC.
Manipulation.
Power play.
He watches her on cameras…
Solitary Confinement.
Electric shock treatment.
Cancer.
Suicide of a family member.
Rape.
Voices in his head.
Death of family members.
Panic Attacks.
Death of a wild animal.
Suicidal Ideation.
Medical Torture.
Child Sexual Abuse between Parent and Child.
They don’t use protection.
THE FUN LIST:
Threesomes.
Dub-Con.
Shackle play.
Blood play turned Art.
“You’re Mine.”
Jealous Lovers.
Degradation.
CNC.
Dirty talk.
Chapter One
Utterly mad...
Delusional...
Bonkers...
Silly, silly words leave the judge's mouth, and his wide grin reveals rows of sharp, pointy teeth, each perfectly aligned.
The courtroom feels like a twisted dream, with the judge's words echoing in my mind, amplifying the madness. His voice is cold and detached, yet it cuts through the air like a knife.
"He's a Cheshire cat," the masculine voice inside my head whispers, adding to the cacophony of my thoughts.
I shake my head from side to side, trying to dislodge the hallucination, but it’s no use.
There is only one Chesh, isn’t there?
"Mad... I’m utterly mad," I repeat to myself inside of my head, the realisation that I’m about to be punished for my sins settling in like a heavy fog.
Shaking my head again, I hope to dispel the delusion, but it does not move.
The judge speaks, but it sounds like he’s underwater, and I remain silent, refusing to answer him, clinging to the last threads of my sanity in this bizarre, nightmarish reality.
Mad... I’m utterly mad.
Shaking my head again in an attempt to make my delusions disappear, my lawyer touches my arm, coaxing me to answer the judge, but I don’t answer him either.
I haven’t spoken at all the entire trial—too scared that the madness will get me into more trouble.
Each word feels like a potential trigger, a key to unlock a door I desperately want to keep shut. The silence is both a shield and a prison.
My mind races, filled with fragmented thoughts and images that refuse to make sense.
Only they do, don’t they?
They are the fragments of memories from my time with Alice, her stories, her madness infecting my bloodstream and making me tumble down the rabbit hole with her.
Although I don’t know if I could get into much more trouble after killing Alice.
“Off with her head!” the voice in my mind shouts. This one is more feminine, her voice shrill and high-pitched, “Off, off, off!”
The courtroom has to understand that I had to.
Alice was mad... utterly mad that it consumed her entire life and inevitably became a part of mine.
I’m now plagued with the same madness that she had.
A curse of being her son.
“A legacy.”
I want to tell the masculine voice to hush that this madness is no legacy and that if it were not for it, I would have never done what I did, even when I felt I had no choice.
“It’s clear to me that you need help, young man, and putting you into the prison system will do you no use...” he bangs his wooden gavel against the sound block, the noise causing a quiet hush to come over the courtroom.
I force myself to keep eye contact, suppressing the urge to glance away from his face.
The judge’s eyes transform into thin slits, his mouth turning into a wide grin with rows and rows of pointy teeth, and no matter how much I shake my head, the delusion doesn’t go away this time.
My heart races, pounding like a drum in my chest, and my palms grow clammy.
I try to remind myself that this isn’t real, that the judge’s monstrous image is just a figment of my imagination, a trick my madness is playing on me.
But the fear feels so real, almost as if I can feel the sharpness of the pointy rows of teeth ready to sink into my soul.
The courtroom feels suffocating, like the walls are closing in on me every moment I stand here, and every second of maintaining eye contact with the judge’s eyes feels like an eternity.
“He’s staring into your soul. He knows what monster lurks beneath.”
I’m mad.
Utterly mad.
I mutter the mantra in my head, just as Alice taught me, as a way to remember that the things before us were not as they seemed.
I squeeze my eyes closed until the white floaty spots cover my vision and then open them again.
Everything in the courtroom is silent, and when I look around at the judge, jury, and my court-appointed attorney, I’m glanced at with pity.
Don’t they understand that I killed Alice?
I deserv e no pity.
“You were found guilty of murder, but taking into consideration your mental illness, I’m ordering that you be placed in Eden Institute until such a time you are no longer deemed a risk to yourself or the public,” the judge says, his slitted eyes observing me as I shift foot to foot.
Only those plagued with the madness are sent to Eden Institute, but that’s not what Alice called it.
She called it Wonderland - a place where no one escapes.
Well… no one but her.
The gavel echoes one last time, and the reporters at the back of the room are in an uproar.
Questions are flung at me, but they all morph into another delusion that I can never entirely escape.
Long stems replace their bodies, and leaves that were once arms sway side to side. Their heads turn into petals, and the buds become mouths that honk instead of asking questions with words.
The cacophony of honking petals and swaying leaves overwhelms me, leaving me trapped in this surreal garden of utter madness.
My madness blurs reality and delusion, making it nearly impossible for me to distinguish between the two.
A rose, pansies, tulips, sweetpeas, lilies, a tiger lily, a thistle, and an iris all sway as I walk past them out of the courtroom.
All flowers Alice had planted.
Is this the cost of my freedom from her madness?
To be haunted by her for the rest of my life?
Is her madness that now plagues my mind not enough?
“Alice Lowe?” the guard calls, his eyebrow furrowed. He glances at the wooden clipboard in his hand and then back to me, confusion etched on his face.
A problem I’m very much familiar with.
Alice named me after her. She was convinced I was a girl even after the nurses told her I was a boy.
I inherited her name as well as her madness.
I open my mouth, intent on telling him, but my mouth snaps closed. There’s no use in trying to convince them of anything.
Between my madness and the crime I’m being sentenced for, I will receive no sympathy. I lower my head, resigning myself to the misunderstanding, and nod, moving forward carefully.
The chains around my ankle make it hard to walk, and they rattle with every shuffle of my feet.
I climb into the white van, rust forming around its hinges.
A shiver runs up my spine as I sit down, a sense of foreboding shifting in the air and the weight of the chains that wrap around me a reminder of my captivity.
Though have I ever been free?
“How easy it would be to escape!” the masculine voice whispers to me. “We just need to fly, fly, fly.”
“But we cannot fly,” I whisper back, forgetting myself for a moment.
“Poor kid stood no chance. He’s crazy—” The guard is cut off as the van door slams shut with a thud, and the engine roars to life, sending vibrations through the vehicle.
Poor Al... he’s just mad... crazy.
Chapter Two
“Off! Off! Off!” the voice I’ve deemed as Queenie echoes in my mind, shrill and demanding, as the guard cloaked in a crimson red uniform roughly drags me out of the transport van.
The vehicle creaks and groans, shifting from our weight, and the chains rattle as I shuffle my feet and walk down the narrow aisle between the leather seats. My feet stumble, and my wrists chafe against the cold metal of my chains.
I can feel the eyes of the other guards on me from outside of the van, and Queenie’s voice grows more persistent and urgent, “Off, off, off!”
“Come on! We don’t have all day!” another guard calls from outside. The guard by my side's grip tightens, propelling me forward.
Outside…
Something I’ve not seen much of.
The weight of that night lingers like a shadow, and I wish it never happened.
But our shared madness was bound to clash at some point, and I couldn’t cope with the darkness anymore.
Queenie laughs manically inside of my head, “We chopped off her head! Off! Off! Off!” and I grimace.
I want to shake my head, to bash my skull into the corner of the metal rust bucket we are in, but I refrain.
They already think I’m bonkers.
I jump down from the vehicle, stumbling slightly, unable to balance myself, and the guard’s hand tightens painfully around my thin arm.
The rough gravel beneath my feet adds to my instability, and I can feel the chains tighten when my legs spread in an attempt to balance myself.
A sea of red instantly surrounds me.
Guards are at my every side, and I don’t even get a moment to enjoy the rare moment of sunshine in England.
“Is this him?” a woman with ice-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes steps closer. A nurse in a snugly fitting outfit, a folder clutched tightly in her hands, scans me from head to toe with curiosity.
“Tsk. You don’t look like much. Perhaps we got the wrong Alice,” she mutters, more to the guards than me.
My lips part, intent on telling her that I am Alice, but my vision turns hazy, and when it clears, her head has swelled to three times the size as before.
Her eyes, now impossibly large, bore into mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.
I try not to panic, knowing it’s just the madness playing tricks on me, but her head is ginormous, and her facial features seem to swell along with it.
“Not a talkative one, I see. That’s fine; we can always change that. We have ways of making even the craziest of patients talk,” she sighs, my lack of response clearly bothering her. “Well then, I’m Nurse White. Let’s introduce you to the Warden, shall we?” she chirps, but her voice is loud and harsh, making me cringe.
Her enormous head nods, and I worry for a moment that she will topple over.
“What an enormous head,” Queenie mocks my thoughts, “Can we chop it off, off, off?”
I shake my head.
I learned long ago not to reply to the two voices that live inside my head—that’s how people end up believing you’re mad, after all.
The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, as we stand before the imposing metal doors. The grey building towers above us, casting a shadow that swallows any traces of sunlight.
I imagine stepping back just a few steps to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, but then they would think I’m trying to flee, escape, and run, run, run away.
Looking skyward, I see dark rolling clouds that form into shapes of all different kinds.
This was my favourite game as a child because I didn’t feel mad.
Alice and I would point out all sorts, and for a moment, we were normal as our arms stretched above us and our fingers pointed to bears, sharks, and birds—lots of birds.
A dark cloud passes over us, resembling a giant wyvern gliding over us gracefully.
“I wish to fly. Maybe we can ask the wyvern to save us and fly us far, far, far away from here,” the male voice says.
He has no name yet, but Queenie is loud inside my head, while he is not.
He lurks in the shadows of my mind, much like I did as a child, careful to avoid being seen by Alice and only emerging when necessary.
Alice once told me about the Cheshire Cat from Wonderland, who would materialise and vanish at will as if dissolving into thin air.
Maybe that’s what the voice is.
Three clicks in rapid succession draw my attention away from the sky and my thoughts of flying back to reality.
The doors open, revealing a large, opposing man standing there. His arms are crossed over his chest, bulging his muscly arms, and he watches me with narrowed eyes. His onyx hair is a stark contrast to his brown eyes that seem to pierce through me, assessing every inch.
The silence between us lingers for a moment, feeling heavy and suffocating.
“Alice?” he asks, his voice deep and gravelly, as I suspected.
I nod.
“Do you not speak? Perhaps you do not know how to speak,” he wonders, and I open my mouth again.
“I do,” my voice a mere whisper, “I’m Al.”
“Not Alice?”
“Not Alice.”
Nurse White snaps her fingers at the guards, and I snap my mouth closed once again.
There is no use for me to speak anymore.
Nurse White points to my chains, ordering the guards to release them. "There's no need for such things here. Alice is going to be just fine, and we’ll have your madness cured in no time.”
