At times I wonder how I came to live in this wretched little city. All I remember was arriving with a gun in my hand, the scar on my neck, and the memory of my parents slowing fading in my head. It was dark, but then it's always dark here. The younger ones don't even know what the sun is anymore, and those who are old enough to remember it and aren't dead can't find words to describe it. It was just that miraculous.

I'm living in a storybook world without a sun and without a God, and the pages are fading and tearing and soon the book is just going to close shut on our miserable lives. This world is just too depressing to think of. Imagine living in it.

I'm in the business of death. My job is to kill. I'm a killer. Chester once said that people are born only to die, and that was the meaning of life. Death is the meaning of life. I've never understood that man. Or at least I never did, until I stopped to think about it. From the moment we're born, we start to die, and we're dying up until the point of death. But maybe I'm just a cynic.

I wasn't born in this city. Far from it. What I remember from my past life is a tall willow tree and the face of a girl I'm almost certain is my sister peering in at me through my hiding place of hanging leaves. I remember my cat, and I remember my sweet yellow sundress. I remember my age of innocence and wish I were back there. I wish it hadn't been so savagely torn from me before I had the chance to grab on and fight for it. And most of all I wish I had never followed the white rabbit to this place, this city where people are dying where they stand without realizing it. Where children are killed in the streets and nobody bats an eye. What once was my dream has been horribly morphed into my reality, and visions of my past are making themselves so vague that they may as well be my dreams.

My name is Alys. Welcome to Wonderland.