"We're Not Insane...Just Broken" The Origins

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Desperado, Nov 3, 2014.

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  1. (((I'm going to go ahead and post this. And everybody may start. I wanted to get done by 12.
    But I got more pictures of the patients lobby to post, others to post.
    Check back for the edit. "And here we..go" In my Jokers voice.)))

    "We're Not Insane...Just Broken"
    The Origins

    The Entrance To Shady Briar Rosa Mental Institute


    The Front Lobby
    Upstairs Leads To The Check In Institute

    (((Sorry couldn't find any good Check in. Let's use our awesome imagination! :D )))

    (((Just add like three belts to tie your character down to the bed)))

    It looks great on you! It's Totally You!!! :D
    (((Straight Jacket)))

    Outside Of The Rooms

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  2. -Midnight-

    Mark laid strapped to his bed, staring up at the ceiling, but not really seeing it. His mind was elsewhere, tied to different things for the moment – his bed being one of them. He was stuck in it. Not just strapped down, but a part of it. There was no clear distinction between the left side of his body and the bed. Where did the lines of his arm and back end, and the bed begin? There was no line. He was melded with it. Apart of it.

    Ooh, I think the hot doctor's coming, Pearl said to him, followed by a loud string of laughter.

    Mark didn't answer her. He knew better than to feed into her.

    The door opened, followed by footsteps. Mark couldn't move, couldn't even look over to see who it was.

    Damn, Pearl said with a sigh. It's her. The bitch nurse.

    Stop,” Mark croaked, watching the woman approach out of the corner of his peripheral vision. It was dark, but he could tell who she was instantly.

    The nurse's name was Donna White. She was tall, thin, and had an attitude about as sharp as a razor. She stood over him, chart in hand, and glanced at him as she began to write something down. “How are you feeling now, Mark?” Her voice was flat, as was her expression.

    Don't, Pearl warned.

    ...Better,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and repeated himself. “Better now.”

    Good. Voices?”

    If you tell her, she'll give you that shot of haldol, Pearl growled.

    ...No,” he answered.

    Very good. Seeing anything unusual? Harmful thoughts?”

    I'm better now,” he assured her.

    Alright.” The nurse jotted something down, then looked up with a frown. "That stunt you pulled earlier could have put you downstairs."

    "I'm better," he said again, this time able to feign something of a smile as he turned toward her. He could feel the very structure of his molecules stretching and tearing with the effort on the left side of his head, but he gave no sign that anything was out of the ordinary.

    The nurse sighed and finished writing something at the bottom of her clipboard before making her way to the door.
    #2 Amberlin, Nov 4, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 4, 2014
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  3. "The past is a dreadful heavy thing to think about. The present is a pain in the ass in live in. The future seems
    hopeless I quote "Insanity doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Albert Einstein..
    [He starts off with a strong confident tone] He makes a good point why keep doing the same thing over and over again?
    It's complete madness!" Clint seems to be talking to himself out loud. And with a burst of laughter. And afterwards
    A smile! A evil smile, if you could see.​

    Clint laying in bed strapped down. Tight. His focus on the padded ceiling, his expression on his face is happy. Why not?
    He is somewhere safe, away from self destruction. Then it starts, Clint starts to hear sounds, Delusional Disorder
    Kicks in. He wasn't given in pills or shots for it. No one knows he has it except him. He hides fairly well he does.
    [Sounds of laughter, screaming, roller coaster on the metal tracks very loud is heard] Oh we're at the city fair.
    How wonderful, the many colorful lights on all the rides. The smell of fair food burgers, ribs, hotdogs, corn dogs.

    Rigged Games being played by all ages how fun. You been to the haven't you? Of course! Who hasn't!?
    The bed Clint is on, it sinks into the padded floor below. Slowly, Clint knows its not really happening. But it looks
    As real. And to him it feels real. It sinks so low, and so far. The darkness of the room, leaves no light below.
    The darkness, but it something strange happens. It changes to a fair setting, rather fast paced too. Could you
    Imagine this happening to you? Strapped in tight, in a bed. Can't move nothing except your eye balls. The feeling
    Of being sucked below. No one to help, you. The first thought could be its the devil wanting you. Its time to pay
    for your sins. Or maybe its just you being Delusional Doe's it sound fun now?

    But it doesn't matter. The bed where it sinked down close's up the large gap of the padded floor.
    Then he gets even more delusional, or maybe its Clint reliving the past child hood.just the past. He is at the city fair, not in the bed no more. But a free man, he seems to be in a different clothes. Street clothes. The surroundings seems to be a blur, but you can easily tell its a city fair type place. Perhaps this is a past scene with Clint remembers well. The bed is gone, and he is walking. With a smile still on his face. It hasn't changed, this may seem strange to you. But this is normal for Clint. Everything is blurry except three people ahead of him. Seems like a grown married couple and there two young children, by the mothers side. You could see as clear as Clint see's them from behind. And hear them clear as well. Following there pace. All the members of the family of four are holding hands to stay together. The young boy, at the End to the right holding his sisters hand. "Would you stop holding my hand so tight!" The young child that's seems to Be at the age of ten says to her little brother. "It's just a clown. Nothing to be scared of." She says to her little Brother again. "Jennifer be nice to Clint" The father says. "I was just telling him.." The young sister lets go Of her little brothers hand. To be relief from the hard grip.The conversation between the husband and wife seem to be private and focus on each other. Rather there own children in such a large crowd. The young Clint stops and looks behind And looks through the adult Clint. And see's the clown walking away to the opposite detraction. The young Clint
    Follows the clown, the Adult Clint moves out of the way of the young Clint. Both Clints follow the clown.

    The sister, is distracted by the wonders around and is confident her brother is behind her. Following the clown who drops the ballon animal in the open mouth clown trash can. The clown seems to be heading
    to the red and white large stripped tint.
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  4. Jason stared calmly at the ceiling as he realized he was awake. Sometimes it was hard to tell, as most nights he would end up either lucid dreaming or talking to.. The others. He wasn't sure why he was awake.. He didn't want to be. The straps were uncomfortable...
    His attention was only distracted from the bed as he noticed the footsteps echoing down the hall. Perhaps that was why he was awake. There would be a midnight inspection. Staring at the silhouette that appeared in the window, the boy barely had time to guess who it would be before he was no longer himself.

    Abigail had a thing for Jonathan Cove... The man's presence occasionally acted as a trigger.

    As the doctor unlocked the door and stepped into the room, Abigail giggled, trying and failing to sit up in the bed. "Ohh, visiting in the night, Doctor, how naughty..~" She purred. Though, of course, her advances came out in Jason's voice, she didn't mind. She'd grown used to the strange body over time. "I don't suppose you've come to give me a physical, mm~?" She added, again pushing against the straps.

    "Not quite yourself, I see, Jason..." The doctor noted, inconspicuously writing on the little clipboard as he spoke.

    Abigail rolled her eyes. "Oh, Honey, don't tell me you've forgotten my name." She replied, shaking her head. She wished Jason would keep longer hair. It was so much better for affect. "I'm Abigail, Love." She added, smirking. "Abigail Bonheur. Jason just wanted to sleep, you see. Who was I to deny him that? I'm sure he'll be happy to talk to you in the morning... Or not."

    "How kind of you, Abigail." The doctor spoke plainly, writing some more.

    "Ohh, put down that silly little board and spend some time with me, Doctor..~" Abigail purred, tilting her head and putting on her most persuasive smile. She wasn't sure how it looked on Jason... She'd have to try it out in a mirror some time to make sure she didn't just look silly.

    "No, that's quite alright." The doctor replied, turning to leave. That little encounter provided all the information he needed.

    Abigail put on a pout as the doctor turned away, wiggling in the straps. "Ohh, you're no fun!"
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  5. (((Just had to add this. To my first post. Sorry lol)))

    [Maniacal laughing is heard in the room of Clint laughing at the deepest of his very lungs] Fading back into reality.
    In the white padded room

    "There's no justice in the city Don't you see? It's fully corrupted. Down to its core, where is the purity? Show me damn
    it! I want to see it!" [Maniacal laughing continues after the sentence.]
    Though the small square thick window Guard Malcom is watching Clint.
    Before he was roaming the hall making sure everything was in check. Just looking continuing looking at Clint without a
    blink in his eyes. He bites his lip watching Clint biting his own bottom lip, it bleeds. Trying to move in the strapped
  6. ---Midnight---

    C. was strapped in her bed. This was the worst time of day. Darkness, everything around her was swallowed by the empty pit. Like black goo it trickled down from the walls, filling the room with an ever higher pool of complete emptiness. C. was prepared for it. A few years ago she would have tried to run. Run and fight. Today she knew it was pointless. Every night the blackness came. Every night she was strapped onto the bed. She knew how to breath while they strap her to it. She knew how to be more comfortable. What she did not know is how to escape the bed. That was what made her afraid. She knew fleeing was pointless. She knew fighting was pointless. Still she was afraid of what would happen. So afraid. Her fingertips were shaking. So were her feet. Her breath was irregular, terrified of encountering the terrible on the outside. Probably the worst part was that C could not even move her head. Every night she had to stare at the ceiling, not knowing what would happen.

    A sudden touch. Softly, gently something stroked her arm. Trailed it all the way up to the shoulder. Every fiber in C.'s body was about to burst. She tried to calm herself, tried to distract herself. She started counting her goosebumps on the other arm. "One, two, three, four, six, seven, eight,.... nine, ten... ele.... please... DON'T!" The feeling has made its way to her throat. It was there. Waiting for a weakness. Enjoying her pain. Slowly the stroking turned to a grip and the gentleness turned chocking. "NO! PLE....please... pleas..." she tried to plead, but the lack of air, the coughing, the adrenalin, her body refused her control. C.'s eyes were wide open, panicking in their sockets, trying to flee - trying to jump off the sinking ship. And there it was. Only barely in her line of sight. The hand came out of the blackness, dripping its thick dark goo onto her. The hand wandered towards her mouth, forcing it open with brutal strength. With the heavy grip around her throat and the hand brutally forcing its way down her mouth C. immediately started chocking uncontrollably. She screamed, but there was barely any air left in her lungs. The sound that came out was so faint she couldn't even hear it herself. Tears started rolling down her face, being trapped in agony.

    And everything stopped. The blackness was gone. The hands, the chocking, the grip. Everything was gone. Somebody came into the room. "Hello darling." It was Jacqueline Amalia, the nurse. "I see your still not sleeping. I thought I heard something. Everything alright?" C.'s mind raced trying to find an answer, but everything in her head was still completely terrified. "Every...thing alright." C.'s voice was hardly a whisper. It cracked and rustled, barely sounding human. Every word hurt her violated throat. "Well, I'm going to give you something that helps you sleep. No worries." The panic in C.'s mind immediately flared back up. "No! NO! No benzodiazepines! Don't do...." It was to late. The needle had already punctured C.'s arm. "And now, sleep well." The nurse left without any second thought and closed the door behind her. C. was in a complete state of panic. She felt the drug taking its effect already, making her sleepy, sending her off in a vivid dream-filled sleep. It was the last place C. wanted to go. But she knew it was inevitable.

    "You are mine."
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  7. Jason woke up confused the next morning, blinking at few times at the ceiling, then looking over at the nameless nurse unfastening the straps. There was a guard standing by to lead him to the cafeteria for breakfast. Just like every other morning since he'd been sent to this place. Sitting up after the straps were removed and the the nurse left, the boy slid off the bed, stumbling towards the guard. He kept a distance at first, then approaching slowly. The guards were known for attacking patients for any little thing...
    Jason was so tired... He couldn't remember dreaming the night before, which was a bit odd. He often had such vivid dreams... Honestly, he couldn't even remember going to sleep. But perhaps that was normal...

    Jason flinched lightly as the guard grabbed his shoulder, leading him out of the room and to the cafeteria. As he was mostly harmless, he was usually allowed to go without the straight jacket... Not always. The Alter, Wayne, was known for causing disturbances when he came out... He was the main reason guards would always keep an eye on him. Jason didn't mind it, he knew that Wayne just wanted to protect him... Sometimes that meant beating up a guard or two...

    Jason gasped lightly as he was shoved into the cafeteria, regaining his balance before he stumbled and taking a moment to look around. He was still so tired. With a small sigh, the boy went to get a plate. His appointment wasn't for a while... He had to focus on staying calm at least until then. He had to stay himself.. It was always a mess when someone else went to his appointments...
    #7 Kaz, Nov 5, 2014
    Last edited: Nov 5, 2014
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  8. Clint was wide awake, only getting a few hours of sleep. With a look of happiness on his face. He was glade
    the day was soon to start. He was looking foreward to his first meeting with the good Doctor. The sound of the
    door unlocking with Niles coming in to get Clint. Niles over Clint unlocking the straps wrapped around Clint.

    "Niles how are you this decently fine morning?" Clint asked, making direct eye contact with Niles.

    "What's so decent about it? I missed breakfast. Get up." Niles pulls Clint off the bed, and dragging him
    outside the room. And down the asylum hall toward the cafeteria.

    "So whats on the breakfast menu this morning? Egg McMuffin? Sausage McMuffin?"Clint asked, looking at Niles
    with a hopeful thought it could happen. "Stop it." Niles said with a anger tone. "Your still anger about your wife
    not making you breakfast? Ya gotta keep that bitch in line. Show her your pimp hand yo!"[Clint chuckled to himself]

    Arriving at the the cafeteria. Clint is pushed, and he lose's his balanced and falls to the ground. "You were always
    the rough one."[Clint chuckles more]
    and gets himself up to look around the the cafeteria. With two guards at each
    side of the the cafeteria door. "So who is here this morning?" Clint says outside oberserving the entire the cafeteria. Not moving no where until he
    see's who all is here.
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  9. (((It's 7:00am. The guards are currently escorting the patients to breakfast. Remember after breakfast you get your pills for the day. After breakfast its time for the interviews. While the first player is being interviewed by the doc(Amberlin your first) the rest are escorted by to there bed until its time. Remeber I made a OOC thread here. https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/were-not-insane-just-broken-the-origins-ooc.82051/ )))
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  10. -7:03am-

    Mark jerked his arm away from Malcolm's hand as the guard led him toward the dining area. He hated it, hated being touched. Malcolm knew it, too. They all did. Yet, they continued to do it...just because they could.

    Don't worry, Pearl said, her voice taking on a velvety tone. If I have it my way, we won't be here much longer.

    Mark smirked. It was rare that Pearl spoke so encouragingly to him, and when she did, it was usually used when she was trying to get her way. Of course, getting out of this place was most definitely to her benefit. They were trying to kill her, and so far, they had failed. It was funny to him that he wanted nothing more than for her and the others to die before coming to the asylum. Now, he couldn't imagine his life without hearing her loud, annoying voice in his ears.

    The occasional threat to take the shot of haldol to shut her up did help keep her in check, though.

    They neared the doorway into the dining room, and Malcolm grabbed for Mark's bicep-


    A loud, frustrated groan escaped Mark's throat as he attempted to keep himself from screaming at both Malcolm and Her Magnificence. He despised feeling helpless, but it was either comply with the staff or get the shot. Or worse. Strapped to the bed in the basement...

    "Get in there," Malcolm growled, yanking Mark through the threshold. There was fire in Mark's eyes went he jerked away again. He fought to quell it as his hand covered the area of his skin where the guard had grabbed him. He could still feel the uncomfortable buzz of leftover electricity from Malcolm's touch. The guard seemed to take notice of the flames and changed his stance from relaxed to imposing, puffing his chest out and putting his hands on his hips. "Problem?"

    Are you gonna let him talk to you like that?

    "There's no problem," he said to the man, averting his eyes.

    Mark walked away with his head down, hoping Malcolm would leave it at that, which he did. It seems the guard had other matters to attend to, but he did not leave without first glaring venom at Mark.

    When did you become such a p-

    "-I'll take the shot if you don't shut the f*ck up," Mark whispered, looking around to make sure no one hear him. He heard Pearl huff indignantly, then silence.

    Looking around at the dining area, there were two guards at either end, as per usual. Clint was there already, and seemed to be doing the same thing Mark was doing - observation. Jay, whom had been at the asylum since before Mark was admitted, was already grabbing a plate to get breakfast. C wasn't there yet, from the looks of it.

    ...Hey...it's Jaaaa-son, Pearl said in a sing-song voice.

    Mark scoffed at her. It didn't usually take much to get her talking again. He ignored her and made his way over to the line to get a plate, checking all around him to make sure no one was coming up behind him.
    #10 Amberlin, Nov 5, 2014
    Last edited by a moderator: Nov 5, 2014
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  11. Jason blinked, looking up from the limited breakfast options as he noticed Mark approaching. "Oh... Good morning." He spoke simply, offering a tired smile before diverting his eyes back to the food choices. While Mark was one of the few fellow inmates at the asylum that he was more comfortable with, Jay really wasn't too great at interacting in general. Especially when he was trying to focus on staying calm. Which, ironically, was a stressful task in itself.

    "The... The biscuits don't look too stale today." He soon added in attempt to joke, glancing back towards the other as he grabbed a few random food items to put on his plate and moved down the line. "How's... How's, um... How's Pearl?"

    Feeling it was important to have someone to talk to, Jason tried not to be too distant when he could help it. He needed people around him capable of helping him figure out what his Alters get up to... The more mischievous ones didn't really like to talk to him when he could. When he was sleeping. He really wished they would...

    As he finished filling his plate, Jason stood off to the side to wait for Mark. He figured they could sit together. He could see Clint at the other side of the room.. He looked a little rougher than usual. Bad night, maybe... Or bad morning. Sympathetic as one in their position could be, he raised a hand to give a small wave towards the other.
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  12. "OH LOOK ITS MY BEST FRIENDS IN THE WHOLE ASYLUM! Except Dana..sweet..sweet Dana isn't here yet!" Clint looking at Jason then Marcus then back at Jason skipping over toward Jason stopping in front of Jason. Extending his hand expecting a handshake from Jason. But not before he bowed his head toward Jason's breakfast plate and smelled the hot breakfast Jason had just filled his plate with. "Mmmmm ummm" Just like mother used to not make!" Clint rise's his head up from the plate and looks at Jason ready for the handshake.
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  13. Jason flinched as Clint yelled out, thoroughly startled by the outburst. He almost dropped his plate, even.. Staring at the floor, he had to take several moments, simply breathing in and out to calm himself down. When the delusional loud-mouth approached, he offered a weak smile, blinking a few times as the man leaned down to smell his food. "O-oh, yes... It looks good today, you should get some..." He replied as he stared at the offered hand in confusion. It took him a moment to realize what the other expected. "Oh!" He exclaimed as his thoughts caught up to him, taking the offered hand into his own for a handshake. "B--.. Best friends...?" He parroted as he recalled what Clint had said. He didn't know he was anyone's best friend...
  14. "Go sit down Jason right over there.." Clint pointed at a table for six, empty table and chairs. Not to far away "Today I feel like being a cool kid. Wanna join in?" Clint walked beside Jason and put his right arm around his neck and got close to Jasons ear and whisperd. "I hate it here...food sucks monkey balls...the chicks are decently hot...your part of my special cycle buddy! Save us a seat at the cool insane ones table won't ya? " Clint smiles wildly and lets go of Jason and see's "Marcus!" Clint cross's his arms and looks at Mark with a smile.
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  15. "Oh... Good morning."

    It was Jay's voice. Mark returned the smile the other man gave him and started reaching for utensils.

    I think it's him today! Pear said with a giggle.

    "Uh, hey Jay," Mark replied. He looked away, distracting himself with the small selection of breakfast before them. He was never good at social interaction, and whether it was genetics, his childhood, or just simply a part of his personality, he always took comfort in Jay's presence, regardless, even when they shared silence. Perhaps it was because he was also not the best at making conversation?

    "The... The biscuits don't look too stale today," Jay said.

    Mark checked his six. You never knew when someone might come sneaking up to you with a knife to your throat to ruin a perfectly wonderful conversation. "Yeah," he then replied, turning and reaching for one of the nicer-looking biscuits. They actually didn't feel like rocks for once. He offered the other a half-smile as he set it on his plate.

    "How's... How's, um... How's Pearl?"

    OH! He's asking about me! Pearl cried. Mark winced from the volume of her shrill voice. Tell him I am feeling marvelous today. I mean, absolutely wonderful. Tell him what I'm wearing!

    Mark shook his head. He could see Pearl in his mind whenever he closed his eyes as clearly as a moving picture, but he didn't want to feed requests like that. If he gave her an inch, she'd take a hundred miles.

    "She's fine," Mark finally answered, scooping up a spoonful of hash browns to add to his plate.

    You're such an ass.

    "How are you and the gang doing?" he asked, joining Jay at the end of the line. Clint's animated voice boomed from near by, causing Mark to tense and his mind to go into defense-mode.

    "OH LOOK ITS MY BEST FRIENDS IN THE WHOLE ASYLUM! Except Dana..sweet..sweet Dana isn't here yet!"

    Pfft. It's just Clint, Pearl said.

    Pearl had a problem with Clint. She didn't like him because he was unpredictable. Mark, however, had grown to respect the man for many reasons, and he smiled inwardly as he watched the man's enthusiasm. Mark respected Clint because the man didn't care. He never let the doctors or the rest of the staff get to him, no matter how many times they fried his brain. Clint was as blunt as they came; another reason Mark respected him. Pearl just thought of him as crazy. Ironic, considering that, according to the doctors, she wasn't real.

    She was very real to Mark, though. He could hear her as plainly as he could hear Clint and Jay speaking now. She was her own person, and more than that, his protector of sorts. When Mark started hearing numerous voices, it became her job to keep them at bay. Especially...that one. But they weren't allowed to talk about him anymore. He was what got Mark put in the asylum in the first place.

    "Marcus!" Clint crossed his arms and smiled.

    "Hey, Clint," Mark replied with a nod, snapping out of his thoughts. "I wanna talk to you, my man. Later, after appointments, if that's cool."
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  16. Jason blinked, looking between the gestured table and Clint. He almost flinched as the other draped an arm around his neck, instead tensing up until he was released, nodding mindlessly to the spoken words and walking over to the table to sit down with his tray. He didn't hate being touched, per se, but it was very uncomfortable. 'Abigail would probably beg to differ...' He thought, smiling some to himself as he began picking at his breakfast.

    Idly nibbling on a biscuit, Jason glanced back towards the other two, waiting for them to join him at the table. Maybe if he ate his breakfast quick enough, he could get in a nap before appointment time... Though, seeing as he was about as slow an eater as they came, he didn't see that happening...

    Someone had obviously decided to take his body for a joyride in the night.. Even if all they could do was wiggle in the straps. He wasn't sure which one it had been, but it was the only explanation for his fatigue.
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  17. "You most certainly can! My Asylum brother!" Clint replied to Mark with a happy enlighten tone. [Clint rolls his eye balls to the
    Breakfast line. Short as it is. He rubs his stomach, hungry for breakfast.] Clint walks over to the breakfast line, to
    Get a biscuit, gravy, a small orange juice box, sausages, and pancakes. "Yum!" Clint looked at the food being served on his

    Ever since arriving at Shady Briar Rosa Mental Institute. He has been hyper active, what is this young mans history?
    "There's no justice in the city Don't you see? It's fully corrupted. Down to its core" He was yelling in his bed what
    Happened before he arrived here?

    With a plate full. He exits the line and walks over to the empty seated table where he asked Jason to save. Clint
    Walking fastly over to where Jason is sitting. Clint lays the tray down and sits in the chair. Opening his orange juice
    First. And instantly stopping. And looks at Jason, Clint starts to gently tap the table top. With his right hand.
    Smiling at Jason, but then switching to Mark. And waving at Mark to hurry up and join them at the table.
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  18. C. woke up to a rather concerned face of Nurse Amalia. "Dear, what happened to you?" It was quite funny to see her concern. C. wanted to scream at her. It was her fault. She gave her the shot. She made her drift of into a sleep teaming with dreams. Rotten Bitch. But instead C. lied. "I'm alright." C. knew better. Hell, she could even hear herself how she was not alright. Not at all. "Darling, you don't look alright. You can't go to breakfast like this, we don't want to scare the others, do we?" Turning to Malcolm, the guard she said: "Help me get her into the shower and wait in front of the door." Malcolm protested harshly, being already late, but the nurse wouldn't let him have his way.
    Only a short while after C. was cleaned of the sweat and the blood. You could still see the wounds where her fingernails dug inter her flesh, especially in the palms of her hands. But these wounds where already dry and crusted. What really worried the nurse was the deep cut just beneath C. bottom lip. There would be no need for stitches, but with the dressing of the wound C. wouldn't be able to talk much if she wouldn't like to risk opening the wound back up. She probably should have some liquid breakfast. Maybe lunch and dinner as well. The nurse hated it when stuff like this happened. Not just because it was bad for patients, but also because there was way too much paperwork involved. "Malcolm, you can get her to breakfast now. And be sure to tell the kitchen staff, that she needs liquid food for the rest of the day." Malcolm only nodded and waited for the nurse to leave. Immediately after she was out of sight he turned his head to C. "Stupid bitch! Now I am nearly 15 minutes behind schedule! You psychos are all the same. Lowlife scum not worth getting yelled at for. Next time you're the cause for something like this you will get what's coming for you!" C. knew the drill. She would be yelled at a little, she would be grabbed harshly and maybe beaten once or twice. Probably not right now, but in the night, when most people were gone or asleep. Still Malcolm didn't frighten her, not in the slightest. Yes, she despised this sadistic moron, but afraid of him? C. couldn't even if she tried.

    C. was dragged towards the line in the dining area. Malcolm, impatient as always, skipped everyone standing there and went strait to the old, latino lady serving the food. "This one needs liquid food the whole day.", he said without any sort of pause to wait for even so much as an acknowledgement. The lady behind the counter sighed and went further into the kitchen to get something for C. to eat. C. simply waited, feeling the eyes of other patient on her. Some might be angry she didn't wait in line. Some might wonder what happen to her. But probably most were completely freaked out because their routine was so harshly interrupted and they wouldn't know what to do. The lady came back, handed C. a big plastic cup and a straw and went on to do her normal job. C. tried to say "Thank you", but regretted it immediately after starting. The bandage pressed against the wound, keeping it from reopening, but also hurting every time she would move her mouth to much. Turning around she observed the already nearly full room. Even though C. was already about 3 years in this asylum she didn't know too many of the patients. Most of them were...disturbing. She saw Ben at the far left. He was a giant, but generally very docile - weren't it for his bi-polar tendencies. In the other corner she saw Kennedy. A sometimes funny, but usually annoying patient being completely convinced that he is the dead President Kennedy and this asylum is only used as a cover up for the conspiracy of him not being dead. Talk about self-important. Finally C. found an acceptable seat, even though it is rather in the middle of the room, which she didn't like to much usually. But there they were. Two of her favourite patients. Mark and Jason. Both were usually very quiet and easy to get along with. With her goal fixed she quickly went to the table and sat down - only to realize she hadn't paid enough attention. Clint was also sitting at the table. He was an obnoxious, loud, way too friendly brat - for the lack of a better term. C. simply sighed internally, she couldn't leave now, it would have been very impolite. So she nodded towards all three, managed a hurtful smile and went on ahead to drink her breakfast through a straw.
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  19. Mark sat down just in time to see C enter the wide room with Malcolm. He took notice of the bandage and wondered angrily if Malcolm had roughed her up a little too much, but then caught a glimpse of the other scratches on her and calmed himself. Mark had an array of scars up and down his arms, so on some level, while he didn't know exactly what she was going through, he understood. He never hid his scars. He felt he had no reason to, as every one of them showed how much he wanted to survive. He was by no means a cutter, but when the worms started crawling through his veins, trying to get to his heart, he sure as hell wasn't going to sit idly by and let them.

    Mark had a ritual with his food. He had to sniff every item, every bite, before putting it anywhere near his mouth. His mother tried to poison him on many different occasions, and sometimes even people he didn't know would try. There was a 7Eleven near his house that served pizza that always smelled poisoned. If the food had a strange, chemical smell, he wouldn't touch it. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't, and today as he lifted his fork full of hash browns to his nose, it seemed as though everything was in the clear.

    He was sniffing the biscuit in his hand as C came over to join them. Mark offered her a nod as she took a seat.

    He didn't know what time it was, as he was terrible at keeping time, but he knew his appointment with Dr. Cove was at 9:00am. Mark was planning to plea is case, saying that the current meds were doing their job. No more delusions, no more hallucinations - the good doctor had cured him. But there was always the chance Dr. Cove would sent him straight to the basement, either way...

    Not today, Mark thought bitterly.
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  20. Jason gave C. another tired smile before diverting his eyes as the sight of all the bandages. He couldn't stand the sight of blood or wounds... "Are.. Um.. Are you alright?" He asked lightly, his eyes focused on the tray still filled with food.

    At this point, as much as he wanted to sit with the others, he also wanted to flee. He was terrified he couldn't make it until after breakfast. At least until they were given their medicine. It was so much easier to stay calm once he'd been given the little white pills with the little white cup of water. Even if being calm meant becoming more of a zombie than usual. At least he would still be himself. Sort of...
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