My name is Carol, and ever since the late 1800s, all the females in my family have been cursed with delusions of a place called Wonderland. It is always the same place, and it is always in the same state as it was set years ago. But there's a catch; only one of us can go at a time. When we reach the age where we are permitted to, the last of us permitted to go dies. Usually in a fit of madness. When we can't enter Wonderland, we go beyond a state of simply insane. We usually end up killing ourselves... or leading those closest to us to do the deed instead. It's a horrible and vicious cycle, but not one has dared to break it.

We all make a descent into madness at some point in our lives.

I was eight when I accepted Wonderland as a saving place and as an insane asylum. My mother died hours later. Suicide. She cut herself with knives until she bled to death. She even drove one through her heart, which proved to be the most fatal of all. I saw her do this. I was the one that called in the ambulance, but I knew it was useless; she was dead the moment she fell to the floor. So much blood... I still remember it to this day.

You'd be amazed by how many people think that eight year olds can kill their thirty year old mothers. For another eight years following, I've been tried and trialed in courtrooms across the border. They all came to the same conclusion, but there was always more evidence somehow. There was never any evidence. Nothing. So why was there always more?

The numerous trial juries have taken a tole on my mental heath (so the doctors say), so now I lose myself in a world I shouldn't be going into. I've never seen this land, only black. Although we accept Wonderland, it doesn't mean that we are allowed to visit. We may talk like we have visited this land, but we never have. Only one of my ancestors ever has. The one that started all this madness to begin with; Alice Liddell. I hate her, if it's possible to hate an ancestor you've never met before. Wonderland has to need us to take us in, we can't force ourselves in. It's what drives us. It's what makes us so... mad. Our female lines need Wonderland, as proven by our bloody, gruesome, and often premature deaths. We do not expect to go into Wonderland either, which drives us even more as well.

So, should it have been a surprise when Wonderland decided to let me in?