Belonging

Discussion in 'ONE ON ONES IN CHARACTER' started by potassiumboron, Jul 2, 2018.

  1. Despite wanting to spend every moment he could with Maria, that wasn't exactly possible when she still had a job to do, and other patients to tend to. Thus, for the last ten minutes or so, he had been sat alone in the large dining room, his food untouched and growing colder by the second. With the medication finally kicking in and having the desired effect, he was almost slumped over in his chair, his eyes only half-open as he struggled to stay awake. When Wesley was as gentle as he was, the decision to medicate him was almost ludicrous, though with the surname he had, people made assumptions and thus assumed it was best to take precautions to medicate him in case he was just like the rest of his family.

    When his brother approached and sat opposite him, Wesley barely noticed him. The noises in the hall were all muffled to him and everything seemed like it was going in slow-motion. It would be a solid half a minute before he looked up from the floor, a lazy smile widening at the sight of Oliver.

    "I don't need no help, I'm fine," he reassured in a slur, wiping his mouth once realising that he had been drooling. He barely even remembered that, for the last few minutes, he had been staring at the floor with his mouth half-open. Hell, he couldn't remember even arriving into the dining room, so took in the sight of his meal in surprise. "...Is it dinner time? I'm starvin'. The food here ain't so great, but it's... decent. You missed it, you can share mine if you want? I don't eat a whole lot anyway."
     
  2. "... I'm not hungry," he reassured as he moved to wipe the drool himself. The sight was heartbreaking, naturally, and it only fueled his upset more. He couldn't give less of a shit about the other medicated patients because they weren't Wesley. They weren't formerly lively, albeit shy children, at least not to him. Observing the gruel, he grimaced a tad when remembering how surprisingly good the last asylum was when it came to their meals.

    "Nah, you gotta eat up buddy. We gotta get you nice and strong," he explained before taking a seat. "... How much can you move? Like, can you move your arms? Am I gonna have to feed you? I remember how I fed you when you were a little baby, I guess this is the same thing," he tried to state without getting overly emotional. "Luckily this food looks... ugh, soft enough for you to eat without needing to swallow much."
     
  3. "I ain't a baby, I'm old enough to feed myself. I'm just tired is all," he drawled back, making a huge effort to sit up straight and take the spoon in his hand. He really didn't have the energy to do any of that, but when the alternative was his older brother feeding him, the effort had to be made. Usually, if he was this medicated, he wouldn't even attempt to eat his food, and would simply sit at the table half-asleep. The only reason he hadn't wasted away at this point was Maria's intervention, the woman often sneaking food to him at the end of the day before he went to sleep. Without her, he would have probably lost a lot of weight and been on his death-bed, the pills he was on having an effect that serious on him.

    "You talked with the Doc yet? You didn't go pissin' him off, did 'ya? He'll only take it out on you later down the line. That man doesn't forget, Oliver," the younger brother sighed as he dipped his spoon into the meal, grimacing at the taste the moment it entered his mouth. Just for the sheer fact Oliver would chastise him if he neglected to eat, he swallowed it down and went back for more. "Maria was sayin' that she thinks we'll get out soon, so don't go messing this up for us by annoying the guy."
     
  4. “Oh, I told him off... I think,” he replied with a smile. “He sure as hell don’t like me, but if it takes pressure off of you then so be it. I’m tough, you know that. You might not remember it but once I bashed out a headlight with one swing with a bat. Mama told us that, remember?” He offered in hopes of just jogging the man’s memory a tad.

    “We’ll get out, sure, but not ‘cuz of that nurse. I got a feelin’ she’s too weak to do any real action,” he decided, albeit moreso to himself than his brother. Absently rapping his fingers against the table, he watched the other nurses chatter amongst each other as they served other zombie-like patients. “I’m glad I’m here, yeah? This place’ll liven up now that I’m here.”
     
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  5. "Don't say that, she ain't weak. She's gonna quite working here when we get out-- she's doing that for me. That's brave of her, I reckon. She's willing to drop her career to pursue... somethin' with me when we get out. Don't sit there and tell me she ain't brave and strong. She'll help us get out. She hates it here as much as I do, Oli," he frowned, seeming to spark to life in order to defend Maria. He wasn't going to get angry about it, though had anyone else doubted Maria, he would have easily lost his temper with them. Oliver being his brother (and probably his best friend) had saved him from Wesley getting too irate about it.

    "...I don't remember Momma much, I've been trying to. I remember she had blonde hair and... and I remember how she used to bake these amazing pies. I just remember our childhoods being... perfect. They always said that it was messed up and weird, but I don't remember that, Oli. I remember being cared for and loved and I just wanna get home-- I ain't getting down about it 'cos we'll be home soon, I know that," he grinned confidently, nodding for emphasis as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. His memory was still all over the place, given the considerable blank concerning the less than conventional upbringing, but he also wasn't mistaking anything either. Despite the violence, Wesley's family was loving and protecting, and he had had a perfectly happy childhood in that regard. In many ways, only remembering that was a positive for him... but, with his gentle nature, it was a negative too. If he remembered how his family was, he would probably have learnt to not give a shit about what people thought of him and to fight whenever was necessary. Instead, he often cowered in the corner and took punches without any real effort to fight back. With Oliver back, the possibility of him remembering the less innocent aspects of his life were high.

    "It don't matter about the Doc and punishments, we just gotta ignore him," he determined, pushing the now empty tray away from him. "...Perhaps Momma's looking for us? We're adults now, she could come visit us if she finds out where we are, couldn't she?"
     
  6. “I hope so...” he whispered, glancing outside at the clouded windows that only barely illuminated the hall. The dim lighting only irritated him a bit. Nothing felt better than letting the sun shine on him and take it in. When he was with his fosters, he was able to play in the yard and just take in the warmth. Now he was forced into a cold and clammy asylum? Sure, the cardigans have some comfort but it was hardly luxury.

    “Listen, I’m going to enjoy messing with that guy. He’s a dick and I’m gonna at least make sure he knows not to fuck with me and my little brother. It’s something to do in the meantime, right? I mean, you get to have a cute nurse and what do I have?”
     
  7. "You could talk with some of the girls here, they're pretty and... they're experiencing what you are, so that's something you'll have in common. I'd rather you talk to them than mess with the Doc, Oli. Please leave it alone? It'll just come back to... to bite us later on, and we won't get to escape if you mess this up," the younger brother grimaced, his brows furrowed at the other's insistence. He knew his brother enough to know that he'd do what he wanted regardless of the consequences, but he hoped his pleas got through just a little.

    Admittedly, as the weeks drifted by, he was oblivious to whatever Oliver got up to, only witnessing the aftermath when he was inevitably punished for his behaviour to Josiah. Then, Wesley would rally around him and try to help tend to his bruises or cuts, even if he had no idea how to do that. His obliviousness was nothing new, but it hadn't been helped by him abruptly coming off his medication. It was all he had known, and he thought it was helpful to him, but the moment Oliver told him to stop, Wesley found ways of deceiving the nurses and doctors that he had taken his pills, only to dispose of them. He was still slow and still confused a lot of the time, but he was at least able to talk and move without assistance. Stopping the medication did have its benefits, in that he was slowly recalling bits and pieces of his home life. He even started to remember the less than normal aspects of his upbringing, albeit through the mode of dreams, meaning that he didn't necessarily believe them. They were nothing but fabricated nightmares to him, and not worth mentioning to his brother. In his mind, mentioning that he was having dreams of their family brandishing bloody weapons was only going to upset Oliver; he didn't realise that the visions were true, after all.

    Josiah wasn't a fool. He might not seem to be interested in his patients, but he did genuinely put a lot of work into observing them. He could tell that Wesley was off his meds, and he guessed that Oliver was behind telling him that. After all, Wesley was always one to follow orders, not having the ability to really put forward an argument of his own. At least, that was Josiah's take. Rather than force the issue, the man let the weeks tick by, taking all of Oliver's teases and trouble-making with minimal punishment. He was hit and threatened with the hope of obedience, but that was hardly a punishment usually fitting of the crime for Josiah. He had opted not to give him attention, and instead let him grow bored and move on, but when he didn't and finally pushed Josiah over the edge, the man decided that action was appropriate.

    It was hardly moralistic, but authorising pills to be crushed into Oliver's drink was the only way he could successfully take him to the basement without a struggle. The electroshock therapy took place there, unbeknown to a large majority of the staff at the hospital. Only a few were aware of it and happy to help with its use, hence the secrecy in getting Oliver down there and tied to a chair. That wasn't entirely enough for him, however. On another chair was an unconscious Wesley, tied up in an equal fashion and, from the blood pooling from his mouth, punched for his struggles.

    "Good of you to wake up," smiled Josiah calmly, the doctor stood opposite the younger man as the guards ensured the straps were tight enough. Scribbling a few notes, he didn't hold back on smugly grinning at Oliver. After weeks of dealing with his bullshit, this was a moment he intended to enjoy; every second of it. "How are you feeling? Groggy? Maybe a few electric volts shot through you will help with that. Or should we do it on your brother first, would that rile you up a little?"
     
  8. Oliver may have been raised by what some might consider ‘hillbillies’ but he wasn’t an idiot. He found the fact that the doctor seemed far more indifferent than he was hoping. He continued his mini tirades and whatnot but what really brought him joy was seeing his brother getting better.

    He wasn’t perfect, nor did he ever expect him to be. While his initial feelings for Maria weren’t positive, the fact that she was as willing as she was to defy the doctor at least dashed his thought of her being a doormat, not to mention her excitement to be able to actually properly interact and, more scandalously, offer him a proper kiss on the cheek and earning a response.

    Things were going on track pretty well, though his milk had a particularly strange flavor to it, he noticed. Not quickly enough, unfortunately, because within moments was his face planted in his food, completely unconscious only to wake up to the scene before him. Still groggy from the medication, he blinked a tad, trying to at least focus on what was happening. It wasn’t until he saw his brother that he at least came through enough to grimace.

    “What... the fuck did you do to him?!” He questioned, his tone somehow strong enough through his dazed state. “Jesus - get me outta this! Y’all are fucking monsters, beating up some innocent kid, you know that?!”
     
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  9. "He wasn't being helpful or compliant. In fact, he was being uncharacteristically difficult, which I assumed was your doing. This therapy is only used on the troublesome patients, but Wesley seems to have fallen into that category with his casual disregard of our help with his medication. The punishment for that is rather severe. If he refuses all help, this is the only option we have left," tutted Josiah, perfectly aware that Wesley hardly needed the therapy. He wasn't afraid to give it to him, however, just to wipe the smirk from Oliver's face and make him realise that Josiah's threats hadn't been empty. He wasn't a man that would sit back and allow himself to be disobeyed and undermined by his patients, especially not one like Oliver who he did look down at. Admittedly, somewhere deep inside him, he did rather like their interactions. He was entertaining, more so than the other patients, and he was handsome, which was a bonus. He irritated the hell out of him, and his class status was hardly attractive... but Josiah would be lying if he said he didn't find the younger man intriguing.

    However, that curiosity wasn't enough for him to prevent putting him through this torture.

    "You should learn to behave," he emphasised, sitting himself down in the nearby plastic chair just as Wesley started to come through. "You two can decide amongst yourselves who needs to be punished first, I haven't got the energy to make anymore decisions today--"

    "...Oliver?" Wesley groggily mumbled once his eyes opened, taking in the blurry outline of his brother opposite him. When he realised, however, that he couldn't reach out or approach him, his head shot back and his eyes fully opened wide, grimacing at the iron taste in his mouth. "...What's goin' on here? This ain't... this ain't cool."
     
  10. “Fuckin’ - let him go, you bastard! So what? He ain’t violent, he ain’t hurtin’ anyone. You’re just fucked up, huh? You just wanna ruin everyone else’s lives, dontcha?!” He snapped, tugging hard on the straps in an attempt to escape. Admittedly, he was still far too weak and groggy but he was going to fight his hardest no matter what. His accent had grown noticeably thicker, as it often did when stresssed.

    “Fuck off - let him go, you can fry my brain or whatever but just don’t touch him,” he demanded, though he glanced over at Wesley with an apologetic frown. “God - are you okay? Do you feel okay? I... I’m so sorry, buddy. You didn’t have nothin to do with this. This was my fault, not yours.”
     
  11. "I fuckin' told you. I told you not to mess with him, Oli. Why don't 'ya listen to me for once in your goddamn life? You never listen to me, not when I was a lil' kid, not now. This -'scuse my language- is fuckin' bullshit. It sucks," the younger of the two snapped. With the absence of medication came the ability for Wesley to actually communicate what was on his mind far more easily. Before, he would think things and not be able to say them in time, his mouth always stumbling over the words and, by the time they arrived, the conversation had usually moved on. Now, he could say what he wanted without stammering, at least not too much. Even if he was angry, it wasn't necessarily at his brother, despite his words. He was just freaking out and choosing to yell aloud was far more enjoyable than sitting in observant silence was.

    "Your brother isn't innocent. He needs his medication. He's having those nightmares, isn't he? He's waking patients up with his screaming and lashing out at them with no recollection of that violence. I think the punishment of disobeying the medication is necessary. You, on the other hand... you're completely insane, aren't you? It's the only logical explanation for your constant pestering," laughed Josiah from the side, his attention -unsurprisingly- fully concentrated on Oliver. He was the one he really wanted to see react. Wesley's reaction was notably amusing, but Oliver was the only one he really wanted to see squirm. His reaction thus far was predictably entertaining.

    "You leave him alone, he ain't done nothing wrong." Wesley called out, fiddling with the straps. Once he realised that he had actually loosened them a great deal, he did compose himself a little, just to hide his surprise and delight. "Oliver ain't insane, he... he was just sticking up for me. I don't need no pills, he was being protective."
     
  12. “I’m not crazy.” Oliver stated firmly, though his eyes darted back from Wesley to Josiah quickly in growing anxiety. Growing up, he had been sat down with their mother to talk about his... overactive eagerness to join in with the other brothers when it came to violent acts. When he admitted his blackout once, she immediately told him - without him even asking - that he wasn’t crazy. His older brothers did too, so he took it to heart.

    “Sure, Wesley’s been having nightmares and whatnot but he hasn’t been acting poorly to the others,” he corrected quickly. “He’d get over those nightmares if you, I dunno, talked to him instead of shoving a few pills in his mouth. Y-You’re just mad that he’s a proper, functioning member of society now.l
     
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  13. "Have you finished whining yet? I think you're just angry that I managed to get you down here. You have a high opinion of yourself, Oliver, and it's delusional," the doctor remarked as he slowly lit his cigar, his eyes focusing on the guards behind continuing to set the machine up. The longer they took, the more energy he had to spend listening to Oliver's yells and angry cusses. As entertaining as it was, he did just want to see him get punished for his continual disobedience.

    While the doctor focused on calling out the guards for their tardiness, Wesley had managed to wriggle both his hands free of the restraints, leaving him free to then unbuckle the restraints around his ankles. Never having been in a position like this before, he didn't exactly know how to handle it. He could try to immediately help his brother, but he wasn't so dumb as to not realise that the two guards and Josiah would easily hold him back and place him right back into the chair. Which left attacking them as the only viable option, especially when he had the element of surprise on his side, but he didn't really want to hurt anyone that much. His nightmares did frighten him, assuming none of them were true, and he didn't want to replicate any of that behaviour.

    But when his brother was minutes away from having his brain fried, there were very few options left to choose. Grabbing a brick from the floor of the messy basement, it didn't take that long to knock both the guards and Josiah out. It wasn't without a struggle, but Wesley had built up the ability to take a punch. After the upbringing he had in foster homes and orphanages, where he was targeted most of the time by bullies, he could take a hit surprisingly well. It also helped that he had the nightmares to draw on for inspiration. He still thought they were all untrue and merely fabrications drawn up by his own imagination, but they were definitely helpful now he had to actually hit out at someone. He hardly realised that this was precisely the sort of behaviour that would make his mother the most proud.

    "You okay? They didn't hurt 'ya, right?" He whispered once kneeling down to untie Oliver. "...We should go, Oli. We could... We could leave right now, yeah? There's gotta be a way out down here, we could... I could go and get Maria and we could leave. Take the Doc's car and... and just go."
     
  14. “Holy shit,” he whispered, physically trembling at the scene. He wasn’t scared - in fact, he was impressed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t startled. Wriggling his wrists, he offered a wide grin to his brother before pulling him into a proud hug. It was quick, though, and spent little time from that to scrambling to try and find a way out.

    “We can leave up the stairs but we’d be stopped by the nurses,” he murmured to himself. “God - we’ll be fucked if we get stuck here, Wesley. They’re already pissed. Just - go get Maria, I’m sure she has the keys to get out.”
     
  15. If he was completely honest, the chaos he had created was lost on Wesley. He knew he was responsible for knocking the men out, but he didn't really acknowledge what he had done, or the potential damage he had caused to them. His brother was his priority, and as soon as he knew he was safe, his next move was to head to find Maria. This was the only chance they really had of leaving, after all, and he wasn't going to leave without Maria at his side.

    Josiah seemed to stir the moment Wesley rushed off, groaning at the metallic taste in his mouth. Despite being disorientated, the man was able to stumble to his feet and use the wall behind him for balance, blinking hard to try and correct his blurry vision... though, blurred or not, he could see that the guards weren't going to get up as quickly as he had.

    "You--- You aren't going anywhere. I have a gun, so don't try anything," he warned with a hand moving to his belt, where his gun was strapped. "I'll shoot if I have to, it's self-defence against two lunatics."
     
  16. “You ain’t gonna do shit, you can barely see,” he scoffed, feigning confidence. Sure, he could be annoyingly cocky and a bit arrogant and it was an attitude he just couldn’t seem to change. Taking a slow motion away from the doctor with a growing grimace, he held his hands up.

    “You’re going to drop the gun, in fact. You’re going to drop the gun, let me and my brother go and you can continue doing whatever the hell it is you do to torture these people. We can do this all nice and easy, yeah?” He slowly insisted, using the exact babytalk he heard the doctor use on his brother.
     
  17. There were, in fact, no bullets in the gun whatsoever, but it didn't stop Josiah holding the gun out at arm's length with a smug smile pulling at his lips, however cut up they currently were. He hated guns; full on detested them, but it was almost seen as a requirement to have one on him at all times. His friends in his social circle raved about guns constantly, and he wanted to fit in. However, he didn't ever want to use one, and he never thought he would have to. He had some bullets, just in case, and yet, even now, he didn't rue his decision not to load the weapon with them. Just the sight of it seemed to cause Oliver some discomfort. He didn't need to know it wasn't stocked, did he?

    "What you're doing to do is get on your knees and put your hands behind your head, Oliver. Don't make me use this thing, I'm not a gun enthusiast," he tutted, smiling to himself at the power he seemed to regain in the space of two minutes. "I don't torture people, I help them. This would have helped you; it would have stopped you causing trouble and preventing yourself from being helped. I want to help you, don't you see that? You're a pathetic, no-good thug, but you deserve to be helped. You ain't getting no help from that Mama of yours, if that's where you intend to drive back to. I've read your report, it ain't good for you there. Stay here, be helped and maybe you'll get to lead a normal life one day-- you and your brother. Isn't that what you want?"
     
  18. “You don’t know shit,” he hissed in response, though did cautiously get to his knees. If it gave Wesley enough time to run away then it would all be worth it - hell, he’d do anything for his brother, even if that meant never seeing him again. “You don’t know what’s good for no one. What Wes needs is his mama and some proper care, all y’all want to do is make money and look good. If anyone’s a thug, it’s you.”

    As he spoke, his jaw seemed to clench before he dared to spit on the man’s shoes in disgust. “You’re trash, you know that? Fucking - I don’t need help and neither does Wesley. We’re fine.”
     
  19. "I can't be that appalling, considering you've spent the last few weeks making it your aim in life to personally visit my office and harass me. If I was truly that repellent, you'd bother me from afar. You're contradicting yourself, and I recommend you take some moments out to think before you speak, because you're making yourself sound like even more of a fool--"

    "Don't... Don't shoot him. Oh god, don't hurt him." Wesley began in horror, having arrived back with Maria (and Josiah's car keys) once noticing that his brother had failed to leave the basement, and it didn't take him long to assume something had gone wrong. He could have left with Maria, that was true, but he wasn't going to go anywhere without Oliver. Any assumption that he would was misjudging how deeply he cared for him. Approaching slowly, after all but demanding Maria to stay where she was (albeit gently), he held his own hands up in surrender, only to come to a swift stop. "...There aren't any bullets in that gun. One of the nurses said you don't load your guns, I remember-- I ain't dumb, I remember she said that and I thought it was weird 'cos why would you have a gun and not load it? But she said it and... if you did load it, you'd have shot my brother by now. There ain't nothing in it, Oliver, I... I fucking bet on it."
     
  20. It didn’t take long for Oliver to spring to his feet before landing a hard blow to the doctor’s face, his expression blank as he grabbed Josiah by the throat and forced him to the floor only to land another punch, only stopping once seeing the doctor’s nose begin to bleed. He had to physically let go of the disoriented man to stop, his eyes wide in horror.

    Looking away, he quickly got to his feet to accompany his brother. He would be lying if he said he was proud of what he did, especially without his mother to cheer for him, but he didn’t want to seem weak in front of his brother. Instead, he chose to keep quiet as he hurriedly followed his brother.