“Frére Jaques, Frére Jaques.”

The song rang in Lolli’s ears, echoing throughout the cramped, damp place.

“Dourme Vous? Dourme Vous?”

Lolli hummed the tune, her small voice filling the even smaller space, eerily.

“Sonnez les mattines. Sonnez les mattines.”

Lolli flickered her wide eyes around the room, wondering where the hell she was at.

“Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.”

Then Lolli heard someone else.

“Round and round the Mulberry Bush.”

 Lolli snapped her head up, searching for the source of the creepy music.

“The Monkey chased the Weasel.”

Someone’s head popped out from the circular opening above her, grinning widely, insanely.

“The Monkey thought ’twas all Good Fun.”

The girl fell.

“Pop! Goes the Weasel.”

Insanity, blood, knife, all taken in with a wide grin spread across her face.

Lolli shot up, going from dead-asleep to fully awake and frightened in half a second. Confused, she got out of her bed and traveled to the living room.

“Frére Jaques. Frére Jaques. Dourme Vous? Dourme Vous? Sonnez les mattinez. Sonnez les mattines. Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.”

James had heard this nursery rhyme before, but never from his sister. Lollin – Lolli, as most called her – was watching out the window of the small family room, looking at some sort of bird intently.

“Did Mom teach you that song?” James asked her curiously.

Lolli whipped around, startled out of thinking. Her eyes calmed as she recognized her brother.

“No, I sang it at the Well.” She told him simply, and went back to watching out the window. But the bird was already gone.

James looked at her oddly. “What well?” He asked her, slightly condescending.

Lolli looked at him with sad eyes. “The Hell-house, James. The Hell-house.”

James rolled his eyes at his sister and went to get some breakfast. Pulling out a box of some cereal that he didn’t check the name of, he grabbed a bowl and some milk from the fridge.

Lolli was quiet for a while after that. Then she told him: “Alice is gonna die, James.”

James spilled the cereal over the bowl, staring into space. “What?” He asked her quietly, slightly dumbfounded.

Lolli scrambled over to him, a hollow look in her usually bright green eyes. She stammered over sentences until she found the one she wanted: “Watch.”

Lolli glanced around the kitchen until she found what she wanted: The knife block. Lolli, eyes deadened, not seeing anything. Lolli, trying to focus on her goal: To get James to know what was going to happen.

Lolli took a knife out of the block.

“Lolli, what do you think you’re doing?” James scolded her, and went to take the knife from the six-year old’s small hands.

Lolli shoved the knife through her head.

“That’s what Alice looks like.” And Lolli falls.