I'm alive?

Trigger warnings: suicide, self-harm, physical violence, substance abuse, curse words, and mental health. Please do not read if you are not in a good mental place.

The room is unfamiliar. 

I don’t know how I got here.

But that thought is swept from my mind by a rush of realization. The burn of bile climbs up the back of my throat as I press my hand against my pounding chest. 

I’m alive?

A strange mixture of relief and horror fight against each other as my shoulders sag. Sweat erupts across my bare arms but quickly dries when a cold breeze sweeps through the room.

My eyes scan the dim room. Lanterns swing gently, each one seemingly held together by the green jewels that line their seams. Intricate gold designs cover their canvas sides. The flames flicker with each gust of wind. An array of peculiar items hang between the lanterns. Bones tap against gourd birdhouses and dried bundles of herbs brush the top of the towering bookcase. 

A tree branch wraps around the bookcase as if giving it a hug. Smaller limbs branch out and follow the lines of the wooden sides before shooting off towards the walls. Orange and red leaves cling delicately to them, framing the books with the autumnal colors. 

I took a hesitant step then another, testing out the wooden floorboards. They creak beneath my weight, but hold firm. My fingers brush against the dusty spines as I read the titles. 

All classics, someone has a good taste in books.

Cobwebs cling to the corners and climb onto the tops of the books, covering them in the fine, white webs. 

Another gust of wind soothes the heat emanating from my sweat coated skin. I turn towards it, enjoying the pleasant sensation. 

A sensation I had thought I would never enjoy again. 

My hands grope down my body, taking inventory. 

Sweatpants and a t-shirt; same clothes as before. But how?

But more importantly, why?

My brain is foggy, and even as I reach towards faint images of memories, a dark mist keeps enveloping them and keeping them from my grasp. A drum begins to pound in my head the minute I reach too far into the dark, causing me to retract and come back to the present. 

The only things I know for a fact is one, I took the pills, and two, I definitely wasn’t here when I took them.

I shake my head, trying to reorganize my baffling thoughts. 

The rustle of leaves draws my eyes towards the one window that allows moonlight to seep into the room, illuminating the cluttered desk beneath it. A small green envelope sits quietly in the middle of the mess of oddly shaped bottles, papers, and various trinkets. The wooden chair is pulled back as if inviting me forward. 

Maybe you have some answers; I think, my eyes landing back on the envelope again.

As I tugged it from beneath the small, jade elephant figurine, my gaze rises towards the night sky. The canopy of trees lay several feet below the bottom of the tree house. Even in the moonlight, the forest looked ablaze with color. The sheer drop beneath the window has my breath leaving my lungs in a gasp. 

A tree house!

“Curiouser and curiouser, said Alice.” I mutter in astonishment. 

Snow capped mountains rise from the horizon, but my brows furrow at the strange clouds that swirl around the highest peak. Lightning strikes, hitting the mountain and causing a shudder to ripple through the earth; rattling the trees before going calm again. 

A sour taste fills my mouth as I watch those dark clouds moving, feeling my heart jump. 

The weight of the envelope suddenly feels heavier in my hand. I tear it open carefully, trying my best not to destroy the beautiful gold wax seal of a tree. 

“Oliver, you’ve made it. I knew during our conversation that you’d take well to your tea and be given this opportunity. Do not squander it, my dear boy, because this is a once in a lifetime chance. I know you must be scared and confused waking up wherever it is you have, but unfortunately, I cannot be of any help besides one bit of advice.

We find strength in our darkest moments. 

I look forward to seeing you again, Oliver.

• The Caretaker”

The caretaker? Why does that sound so familiar?

“We find strength in our darkest moments.” I read aloud, rolling the words in my mouth thoughtfully. “What the hell does that even mean?”

The only strength I have gained in my darkest moments is the ability to survive with the added weight of traumatic experiences that only gets progressively heavier the older I get. There is nothing good that can come out of what I’ve been through or even living through it all. 

There’s no point when it’s always going to be there.

I toss the paper onto the desk with a sound of disgust.

“This is fucking stupid.” I yell, breaking the silence in the room. “What the hell is going on?!”

Nothing answers.

Am I waiting for something to answer? A laugh bubbles up in my chest, threatening to escape in a cackle of hysteria. I’m going crazy. 

I was going crazy in reality and now… wherever this is. 

Wait, am I even real?

With a sudden surge of energy, I slam my fist into the wooden wall, causing the framed bugs and painted landscapes to shake. Pain shoots through my arm and radiates into my chest. I suck in a breath as I hug my hand to my abdomen. 

I hiss through my teeth. “Fuck!” 

“Wow, that looked painful.” A small voice says from behind me. 

I whip my head around, but nobody stands in the corner. My eyes scan the room quickly, sweeping over the stacks of books and framed pictures leaning up against the exposed tree branches. 

“Hello?” I say hesitantly.

“Hello Oliver.”

I suck in a breath as I close my eyes. “This is it. I’m trapped in a room talking to myself. I have to be going crazy.”

A wave of cold suddenly washes over me as I open my eyes again. 

I’m trapped.

I didn’t even notice the absence of one of the most important things when waking up in a foreign environment. An escape route. So much for all of my military training. 

Where’s the door?

All the walls look the same, minus the one with a window cut into it.

With a swift turn on my heels I grip the window seal, looking towards the ground. Between the shifting leaves, I could only see patches of inky blackness where the moonlight didn't hit. Jumping isn’t an option unless I’m committed to ending this for real. 

But why am I hesitating? I didn’t hesitate when I was taking the pills. My fingers drummed against the wood. A drop of sweat runs down my face and plops onto the seal. 

Come on, get it together! Just jump, who cares anymore.

But my feet stay planted on the wooden floor. 

Maybe I could climb down?

A wipe gap between the bottom of the tree house and the treeline shoots down that idea quickly. There could be branches beneath the other leaves, but there’s no way to know for sure. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” The voice says, seemingly materializing from nowhere and everywhere at once. “There aren’t any more branches for a while. At least, not ones that you could use. You’d fall right through the canopy.”

“Wow, thanks so much for your input.” I mutter sarcastically. 

Two options gone. There must be a way out of here. 

“Have you tried looking for a door?”

“No shit Sherlock, of course I have,” I chuckle angrily, “but if you take a moment to look around, you’d see there isn’t one in any of these walls.”

A moment of silence elapses before the voice hums in contemplation. “Are doors always in walls?”

An angry retort sits on the tip of my tongue but before I could whip around and release it, the voice continues, sounding closer than last time. 

“I’m shocked you’ve forgotten what a tree house is.”

Maybe if I slam my head into this wall hard enough, I’ll knock myself unconscious and this will end. A throbbing pain in my knuckles reminds me of the strength of the wall. 

Bracing my hands on it, I draw my head back. 

“Oliver! Stop it!”

There is a tug on my pant leg, halting my motion. 

No, I’m imagining it. There’s nobody else in here with me.

“Oliver! What is going on with you?” The voice whines, this time from directly beside me–no–under me. 

I look down and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise and confusion.

“Bluebear?”

The stuffed bear stands, yes stands, beside me. It’s, or should I say, his fabric still stained just as I remember it being, and his stitching is still in varying states of needing mending. One black plastic eye gazes up at me while the other is still missing. 

“Wh- How?” Slowly, I kneel beside him. My head tilts in curiosity at the impossibility that stands before me. “You’re real?”

“In essence, yes. I am as real as you believe me to be.”

“But, I don’t understand.”

I lift his arms and turn him around several times as I prod at his sides, looking for some reason for this to make sense. But no robotics or audio boxes can be felt within his squishy body. 

“Stop it!” He laughs loudly, swatting at my hands.

“I’m sorry.” I say through a smile. 

A low rumble of thunder echoes through the walls of the tree house, shaking the very structure of it. An overwhelming need to flee suddenly takes over my body as the warmth washes from it. 

“Oliver, we have to go, it isn’t safe up here.” Bluebear grabs my hand with his rounded paw. “The storms have been getting really bad around here and with us being so high, we’re basically inviting the lightning to strike us.”

The wind picks up, rushing into the room with such a sudden force that I nearly fall over from the brute force of it. Papers go flying, spiraling in the air like a tornado as a cacophony of chaos above us fills the room. Bones crash down from the roof and the lanterns swing dangerously close to the dried herbs. 

“Hurry Oliver!” Bluebear yells over the noise. He crouches beside the worn rug, trying to pull it across the floor. I stand quickly and push it away with a sweep of my foot. My heart flutters at the sight.

A trapdoor!