Lost Prophets

She's been ripped away from them. Horribly and brutally murdered, leaving her loved friends baffled and wondering why, and who could do this. Nobody could've imagined something like this happening to her in a million years. Not ever, at all. But yet, here they are...without a body to bury, a soul to repent, and answers to questions.


1. Chapter one

I don't own Alice in the Country of Hearts or nothin man, just the plot.

Rain drizzled unto the roof of the delicate mansion with a soft 'tap tap' and flowed evenly like heaven and earth over the beautifully sculpted walls, coveting the elegant vines stretching up the walls and painting the stain-glass windows as it dribbled down everything but the warm, eccentric visionary scene that was the ballroom inside the mansion. Unlike the rest of the mansion, it was bright, lively, and filled with energetic, high-class societals.

'Disgusting.' He thought. Here he was, dressed up like some Barbie doll, pretending to be somebody he's not, while the rest of the world moves on, living life as they will; the people uncaring of the loss, but he knew the heavens cried for her. For the departure of the purest soul in Wonderland, the earth shook, trembling at the inability to find peace. The skies roared with anger, begging for release from the pain. And the heavens, the beautiful, motherly heavens, crying for their lost child, for even her soul was unable to be found(along with her body) to put her at rest. His heart felt incredibly heavy, and even as he continued to stare into his own melancholy crystal-blue bloodshot eyes from the mirror reflection, he still couldn't find himself strong enough to stop the tears from coming, and heavily. Nothing could stop it. Nothing could ease the pain but her. 'It hurt so much, and God, I want it to stop...please...be a dream...it hurts...'

A knowing hand rested on his shoulder. The aura was just as heartbroken as his, but soft, gentle, as the voice behind it. "They're waiting, Blood..." Elliot nearly whispered, trying to hide the breaking of his voice. He sighed deeply nodding and proceeded to do what he did best: pretend.

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