The little girl who wasn’t… she was Alice, fallen down the rabbit hole but never found her way back out. The mother she loved so dear, who never ever existed; the father she knew would always protect her, never to take a breath of his own.

Forever lost, forever alone.

“You are a boy! You should be ashamed of yourself for believing anything else!” said the voice.

“Of course, I’m not,” said the little girl, “what a perfectly ridiculous idea! I know who I am!”

“You are a boy! You will never be anything else!” said the voice.

“NO! I know who I am!” cried the little girl! “Momma! Papa! Help me!” she sobbed.

“Little fool…” said the voice, “Your father lives in story books; your mother lives only in your dreams.”

“NO!” screamed the little girl, “Everyone has a father and a mother!”

With that, a low growl rose from under the girl’s bed, and out from beneath it crawled the mangled doll, a victim of a war long since past; its eyes vacant of soul, driven on only by primal emotion… anger, hatred, revenge.  The girl cowered in the corner as the mangled doll reached menacingly for her, the voice laughing with venomous cruelty as nightmare became truth.

“Yes,” sneered the voice, “this is your mother. You are a boy, and you are insane… just… like… her…”

The girl screamed into the darkness… and there she remained, day after day, year after year, decade after decade… forever screaming.