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 Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 10:39 am
 S E R E N A ♦ W O O D S I'M NOT PERFECT BUT I'LL KEEP TRYING.
'CAUSE THAT'S WHAT I SAID , I WOULD, DO FROM THE START. xxxxxxxxxxxx prescribed pills to offset the {s h a k e s} to offset the pills.I'M NOT ALIVE IF I'M LONELY; SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWAS IT SOMETHING I SAID?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOR JUST MY PERSONALITY xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
Upon arrival at the infirmary, Serena struggled as the doctor tried to clean and stitch her wound. She did not want it to be fixed. She needed the sensation to keep herself from feeling what she did before. In her eyes, they wanted her to be worse, they wanted her to suffer. She wasn't trying to kill herself, so why did they have such a problem with how she chose to cope. Angrily, she began to flail her arms through the air, once almost clocking the doctor square in the face. "Don't! Don't fix me! Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" Serena bellowed and it was certain that half of the ward could hear her screams. Several nurses needed to help hold her down so that she could restrained and treated. This only upset Serena more and she continued to scream. "You're hurting me! You're hurting me!"
It must have been funny for anyone who knew what was going on to hear her scream that the staff was hurting her, she had just caused herself a fair amount of damage, and now she was complaining about the "pain" of being held down and restrained? After the doctor finally managed to give her her stitches, Serena was still freaking out at the notion of being tied up to the bed she was being fixed on.
"Get me 2 milligrams of lorazepam, now!" the doctor called out so that he could give her something to calm her down. She needed to be out of the restraints so that she could attend the trip with everyone else. If they hurried, she would be able to make it in time to attend with everyone else. A nurse hurried back with a syringe and handed it to the doctor so that he could inject it into Serena's arm. Within a few moments she was no longer outbursting and had calmed down enough for the restraints to be taken off. They waited a few moments for her to become stable after the dosage of medication that Serena had been given, but once she was okay they lead her out into the hallway so that she could get ready to attend the trip with everyone else.
Obnoxious Overdosing Crisis ﹛ this is vomitrotiously short. cool points for those who can guess the "vomitrotious" reference. ﹜
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 11:26 am
|Don't {t h i n k} that your so great, cause being G R E A T must s-u-u-u-u-c-k| |My {h e a r t} is in the right place|
|So wipe that s-m-i-r-k right o f f your [face]|
|Don't make me feel like t-h-a-t|
|Cause that's [just] plain not nice|
▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶ “Did you hurt your ankle?”, Michael could feel the concern smack into his skin more-so than hear her words echo into his ears. ‘ Here we go again…’ It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Serena’s help, she was his best friend; but, she had started to become almost…What was the word…Motherly. Here, let me preen the hair off of your shirt, or, Oh poor Michael! Let me give you my laxatives. Well, to be honest Michael didn’t mind that at all, Laxatives helped him stay thin and healthy. Still, he waited for the dreaded phrase with a cringe subtly decorating his face. Which was graciously hidden beneath a freshly painted coat of mud.
“ Please be more careful. Here, let me help you inside. I think we both need some cleaning up before the trip.” and there it was.
Without a second’s pause, Serena had her ‘motherly’ arm over his shoulder to help him balance on his ankle. ‘ Well, you could have gone without the cleanup if you hadn‘t decided to cling to me.’, smirking to a mental laugh at his muddy self, Michael couldn’t help but feel grateful. Regardless of his general distaste of being ‘fretted’ over. He got enough of that from the nurses. Which was why he probably detested it so much. ‘ Heaven forbid I scare away my personal nurse.’, at that joke Michael grumbled, and frowned when she started pulling away. Something was different in his friend, and he had to wonder if he was the one at fault in this situation. ‘ Great. Why couldn‘t you just suck it up and let her carry you without the attitude?’, Knowing that his ‘mood’ or ‘vibes’ could be subconsciously felt by other people based on something he read about plants, Michael considered himself at fault. At least long enough to space out and allow ‘Frank’ to help him inside.
Knowing Frank as long as he had, even if they were not the closest of friends, seeing the man anxiously flee the scene as soon as possible without a word could mean only one thing. ‘Billy’ was loose. Usually, him and Billy sometimes spent a few hours drawing in the tv room or writing back and forth; but, that was the most contact they ever had. Billy was the type to hide in his room for days at a time. Something that sounded especially nice at this particular moment. The world flashing white from a bolt of lightning, the thunderclap smacked another thought into his head. What with the rain continuing to gently pound into his skin.
‘ Perhaps after a shower.’, Michael hurriedly limped the remainder of the way to the stairs and performed a little jig to reach the second floor. Above feeling foolish for the necessary dance, Michael did manage to flash a goober expression out of glee at knowing how ridiculous he probably looked in his hobble. ‘ At least it wasn‘t on you tube.’, chuckling at himself, Michael made a quick dash towards his room and opened the door just in time for Heath to leave ‘his’ and head towards the tv room. Only staying long enough to pull a new pair of dark blue jeans and a black ‘system of a down’ T-shirt from his dresser, Michael then proceeded to limp towards the men’s bathroom. Again, arriving mere moments after Heath had left the bathroom. His limping having made the journey less swift than he would have preferred. Tightening his free hand about the doorknob, Michael peeled open the door and tossed his clothes on the counter. His nostrils flaring at a peculiar smell permeating the air.
‘ Did someone vomit?’, Shaking his head in a: ‘No matter’, Michael dropped the thought and hobbled over to the large muti-shower ‘area’. Private baths were never private here at Maxwell. It was: Bathe with someone watching, or shower with the other patients with a hip-high screen covering the camera. As revealing as the latter was, it was preferable. At least in Micheal’s point of view. ‘ At least the other guys wont stare at me like I‘m about to kill myself.’, Turning the hot water on, Daniel began to remove his muddy attire and kick off his sneakers before stepping beneath the spray and allowing the hot water to soothe his aching muscles. Oh…his body was going to be mad at him tomorrow…Nay, in an hour or so; but, it would be worth it in the end. No girl was going to find him attractive if he didn’t keep the weight off.
And closing his eyes beneath the succulent heat, Michael just forgot the world and allowed the warmth to fade all his worries away. A world outside Maxwell institution, a world he could make up and change at the drop of a hat. A world where there were no broken people, and he would never have to worry about calories again.
◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄ |We don't a l w a y s see the [bright] side|
|And I lied when I said I was fine|
|You s l a p p e d my face today|
But I have licked my w o u n d s and {c a r r i e d} on
|Reality is {t r u l y} scaring me|
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 12:28 pm
 |You shut your mouth|
|How d a r e you say|
|I go about things the w r o n g w a y|
|I am a h u m a n and I need to be l o v e d|
|Just like everybody else does| ▂▃▅▆█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▌ 
“ Sure.”, Heath’s smile broadened into a large grin at hearing so positive a reply. Captivated by Olympia’s gorgeous eyes, Heath did not dare dream of parting the eye-contact until the pretty little blonde averted her gaze to the window. Briefly glancing outside to follow her lead, Heath could not help but turn his eyes back to Olympia’s frame. Tilting his head in admiration as he began to notice the particular fashion in which the light refracted off of the strands of her golden hair. As beautiful as her hair was, it was only one facet of inspiring qualities that Olympia possessed. Seeing the hint of concern flourish atop her pretty face, Heath felt the internal desire to step forward and run his hand through her hair to sooth her. ‘ Except with her…that might do more harm than good.’, with a grumble, Heath opted against it, and walked forward to lean against the cold windowsill.
“ If we even get out of here.”, Eyes drawn to her body like a moth to a flame, when she ran her hands over her arms for warmth, Heath’s eyes looked down at the movement without a second’s thought. If not for being mesmerized in every little movement Olympia made, Heath would have commented something. Usually he was never one to get ‘mesmerized’ or forget his train of thought; but, perhaps the thunderstorm cast the room with a mystical glow. With him being caught in some small, magical, spell. One thing was certainly on his mind: She was cold, and he had warm arms. ‘ If she‘ll even let me hold her…I don‘t know if I have to pass a ‘health code‘ check beforehand…Like: wash your hands thireen times then we can hold hands.’, His eyebrows squishing together in thought, he wanted to ask, to make sure; but, at the same time he didn’t want to be rude. So he didn’t mention anything.
“ Any idea where we‘re off to?”, Olympia’s voice snapped him back to reality; but, it took him an extra second of two to pull his eyes from focusing on the freckles on her face. As pretty as Heath thought they were, sometimes he had the tendency to try and count them. Thankfully, she had caught him before he had started. ‘ What is she talking about?, his face furrowed in confusion. ‘ Oh no, how much did I miss?’, the answer smacking into his brain with another thunderclap, Heath heartily laughed and shook his head at how silly he had been. Gently flicking another little wink her way before leaning his back against the window sill and responding.
“ Actually, no. Last I heard anything, they were arguing about a roller rink or a movie theatre again. Since our ‘choices‘ are rather limited, and we went bowling last month.”, Heath had to hold back an awful grimace. Images of their night going bowling had flashed into his mind, more specifically the images of what had happened after they had gotten back from that night. When Frank and him had been talking about girls. Frank had started to mention something about Serena when his entire demeanour changed and…‘ Oh God…I‘m gonna be sick…’, feeling the urge to vomit again, Heath shook his head in distaste but hid it beneath the frock that was his long hair. Seeing Olympia walking towards him, Heath smiled his debonair smile and began to escort the lovely lady back to the tv room.
It was then that he, too, heard the worried rustle of the standard-issue nurse garb coming from further down the corridoor. Hearing a nurse cry out a muffled statement, he couldn’t decipher any of the words due to her tone being hazy and indistinct. Whatever it was, it had to be a horrible emergency. Distracted by the commotion, Heath had to hurriedly jump backwards to avoid being run over by a squad of nurses and orderlies that soon disappeared around the corner. ‘ That can‘t be good.’. Knowing that Angelo hadn’t gotten too far, Heath doubted that the problem had anything to do with him. But who knew at this point? ‘ Micheal? No…he wouldn‘t risk being cut out of the outting…not after I kicked his *ss at bowling.’, grumbling and crossing his arms, Heath only half-heard Olympia’s question. With being so lost in his thoughts at the moment.
“ I‘m going to find out…”, Heath said before making a peace sign with his right fingers and pointing them at his eyes before simply pointing his index finger in Olympia’s general direction. Maintaining eye-contact in a more suggestive version of: ‘I’m watching you’ from ‘Meet the parents’. Sealing it with a wink, Heath soon disappeared around the corner after the frantic hospital staff.
Coincidentally hearing horrible screams coming from the infirmary, Serena’s voice crying out in bitter agony forced him to stop in his tracks. All the color draining from his face at what her words happened to remind him off…
“Don‘t! Don‘t *** me! Don‘t touch me! Don‘t touch me!”, Serena bellowed, and Heath felt his feet glued to the linoleum as the acid continued to rise up his throat. Images of the very things he had cried out that night continued to flood back into his brain so vividly, it was like it had happened an hour ago.
“ Stop! Your hurting me! Your hurting me!”, Shaking like he was having an anxiety attack, for a moment a black fog began to overtake his eyes and the man recognized the signs of a coming blackout. At least a monstrous fainting spell was on the way if he did not get away from those screams as fast as possible. ‘ Oh GOD get me OUT of this HELL HOLE!’, on the verge of whimpering from shaking so much, it might have looked like he suffered from Taradive Dyskenisa or was on the verge of having a seizure. Not even contemplating the consequences, Heath ran into the nearest men’s room and slammed the door shut behind him, vomiting into the sink he had previously thrown up in. Completely encased in his own worried thoughts, Heath only heard the water running when he saw the freshly folded clothes on the hamper. ‘ What?! Who would shower now?!? ’, Having a panic attack, Heath stormed the few feet’s distance to turn his head and look at the massive ‘shower’ area. Not even thinking that way because his friend was the same gender, and he was having a melt-down anyway, Heath panicked and used the only thing he could think of to make Micheal hurry up and leave the room.
“ S…Serena cut herself again! She‘s in the infirmary and she wont stop screaming! ”, Expecting to see him freak out about being found in the shower, Heath rolled his eyes and gasped the elusive breath he had neglected to properly breath for the past few minutes. Collapsing against the tiled wall of the bathroom, Heath slid down the wall and used his knee as a pillow. Feeling so nauseated that he couldn’t move without wanting to throw up. ‘ I‘m…not…gay…he…’ Heath slammed his eyes shut. ‘ Raped me.’ With his hair covering his face, Heath waited for someone to either come find him and drag him from the men’s room, or for Micheal to hurriedly leave to be with his best friend.
▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▆▅▃▂ |When you s a y it's gonna happen 'now'|
|When exactly do you m e a n?|
|See I've already waited too long|
|and a l l my h o p e is gone|
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 2:32 pm
|Don't {t h i n k} that your so great, cause being G R E A T must s-u-u-u-u-c-k| |My {h e a r t} is in the right place|
|So wipe that s-m-i-r-k right o f f your [face]|
|Don't make me feel like t-h-a-t|
|Cause that's [just] plain not nice|
▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶ The sunshine was a warm blanket, tickling the evaporating water off of his chest. Somewhere in the distance, Seagull’s cawed back and forth to each other. The scraping sound of the waves against the sand soothing away all of Michael’s worries, anxieties, and cares. His mind a blank slate, whitewashed and perfect, all Michael could think of was the marvellous thought that he was alone, on a plastic yellow raft, with his eyes closed; soaking in the sun. The only thing Mike even contemplated right now was that everything was perfect. Without even opening his eyes, he knew that he looked perfect. As self-conscious as he was, that was the least of his worries in this little ‘dream world’. When he ‘knew’ he was healthy and perfect, he could relax and enjoy the beach.
Hearing a sound besides the pretty seagulls, the waves of the sea, or the wind ruffling through his hair; Michael slowly opened his eyes. Sitting up on the opposite side of the raft was a woman with medium-brown hair, her head down with a white sunhat covering her face. A yellow flower pinned to the top of it. Whomever she was, she was wearing a white bikini with matching sandals, and had her arms outstretched across the sides of the raft. The saltwater glistening upon her milky skin. Almost making the fabric of her ensemble translucent. For that long moment, unable to see her face, Michael allowed his eyes to drift and admire different aspects of the mystery woman’s body. How the sunshine bathed her skin, how the wind stirred her hair and brought to his attention a lovely floral perfume. However, like all dreams, they eventually came to a close.
“S…Serena…”, A voice shouted from left field, beginning to tug Michael from the dream. Perhaps the woman heard the voice as well, because the pretty girl lifted her head at the sound and looked him square in the eye. Seeing the worried face of Heather Vans wearing make-up in his little vision, shouting at him to get his attention was such a morbid shock that the dream immediately ended. No dilly-dallying with fading out or blurring out of sight. Blinking back to reality. Michael furiously rubbed his face under the spray of the hot water to rid the spuds from potentially blinding him with their cleansing power. Turning abruptly, Mike discovered that ‘Heath’ actually was in the men’s room. ' HOLY s**t!'. Immediately covering his private area with as much of his hands and arms that could be used to guard that area from view, Mike’s eyes swelled up in shock.
“ WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? GET OUT!”, Backing up out of self-preservation, hoping that the steam could cloak his body, his stringy hair covering his eyes from seeing the panic stricken look painted all over Heath’s face. Expecting him to strike back with some rude or sarcastic comment, he was surprised when the ‘man’ just repeated himself with a growl-like ‘get out’ tone.
“Serena cut herself again! She‘s in the infirmary and she wont stop screaming!”, Mike’s eyes widened in shock.
“ WHAT?!?”, He didn’t have to wait for an answer, he was so surprised at hearing those words that he didn’t even notice when Heath slid down the wall and pressed her forehead to ‘his’ knee. The point was, Heath was no longer looking at his naked body, and he could get dressed and get out of the awkward scene. As he turned off the water and towel dried, his mind decided to wage warfare. Doing the one thing he could think of to distract himself from the fact that ‘Heath’ had seen him in his ‘ugly’ glory, he beat himself up about the other pressing matter on his mind right now.
Now look what you’ve done! Your running around in a -thunderstorm- tipped Serena over the edge! She’s already worried about you more than anyone else here (from genuine care) and you just F*** it up by making ‘running’ more important. You could have gone to your room and ran in place…but no…you had to worry Serena. Michael’s face contorted in anger, and biting his lip too roughly for his own good, Daniel pulled his clothes off of the counter one-by-one and scrambled to get them on with a hobbling ankle. Thankfully, the heat and time off of it meant he could walk without wobbling too greatly; however, it would still hurt him to put too much pressure on it, so he would have to take a break from running for a few days. ‘ Just Bloody Fantastic.’ Not considering the chances of Heath having a mental breakdown, Michael could not keep his thoughts from straying from Serena as he stormed out of the bathroom and hobbled down the hall. Banging on the door of the infirmary. On rare circumstances he had been allowed inside before, to calm her down, so he figured they would let him in this time.
“ HEY! LET ME IN! SERENA! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”, Banging on the door until it opened, Michael poked his head in to see a nurse checking to see whether or not she could walk. At that, Mike let out a comforted breath. She was out of the ‘danger zone’, Serena was going to be okay. ‘ If she doesn‘t pick at those stitches…’, Not sure what the wound was, but guessing based on her past history, he squinted his eyes and looked at the wound. ‘ Yep…’, Worried about his friend, he followed her and the nurse outside and tried to kindly shoo the nurse away to take her place. Folding his arm around her shoulder for her to lean on him if she wanted to.
“ There. Now it‘s my turn to hold you up.”, not wanting to ask the ‘dreaded question’ of: ‘What happened’ or ‘are you okay?, Mike simply smiled his hundred-watt smile and followed one of the nurses to the bus. Apparently, they were already late for something, so he had to hobble his one leg in a hurry to get there, regardless of whether or not she accepted his aid.
◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄ |We don't a l w a y s see the [bright] side|
|And I lied when I said I was fine|
|You s l a p p e d my face today|
But I have licked my w o u n d s and {c a r r i e d} on
|Reality is {t r u l y} scaring me|
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 5:11 pm
O L Y M P I A ♡ ALORAH ♡ M C G U I N N E S S missaisincrediblyepicjustincaseyouwondered it's all because of you; it's all because of you; it's all because of you
After a handful of heartbeats, Olympia gave in to her morbid curiosity and almost ran down the hall after Heath. A blockade of nurses stopped her from actually entering the Infirmary, but their barricading the door did nothing to stop the blond from hearing her friend’s name. “Ser?” Olympia called, pushing with increasingly violet efforts against the wall of uniformed bodies. She hopped on her toes and tried to see over their shoulders, her clear blue eyes glazing over with panic. “Ser!” An unusually hostile nurse placed her hands firmly on the patient’s slim shoulders and pushed until the girl stumbled back, shocked by the contact. She held the woman’s eyes for a moment with such heated indignation and disbelieving horror that the nurse seemed genuinely frightened. Had she not been so utterly appalled that the woman—who knew how many germs were living on her rough hands—Olympia would’ve realized that the nurse was new to the Institute. It was always the new ones that thought institutionalized people were bloodthirsty killers.
She felt the ominous chill of a tantrum coming on and felt the sudden need to run into the bathroom, take a shower, and change, all to brush off the stranger’s touch. She turned on her heel to pursue her latest course of action but was quickly—reluctantly—side tracked when a familiar dark head darted into the bathroom. She lingered outside the Men’s Room, her eyes fixed desperately on the Dormitory Hall. She managed to dodge a frantic Michael and repositioned herself by the bathroom. Her anxiety built and she almost fell under the weight of her panic. Serena had done god know’s what and was in the Infirmary, her sweater was tainted with germs, and now Heath had holed himself up in the restroom.
Olympia balled her hand up into a fist and rapped lightly on the door. “Heath?” Her voice came out strained and painfully nervous. “Heath, are you okay?” It occurred to her only after the inquiry left her lips that perhaps Heath was merely taking his time doing his business. She sucked her bottom lip under her teeth and chewed it , her breath slowly evolving into short huffs of tension.
When silence answered her call, Olympia began to pace. Her hands were rubbing her arms again and she found comfort in the sensation. At least those movements were something she could properly control. And then she began thinking, which was always a slightly dangerous thing for her to be doing. Had she locked her door? Yes…of course. Was she sure? With all these new nurses roaming about, one could easily slip in and take her things. Olympia answered herself with a curt shake of her head. No, no, she was sure. But had she unplugged her lamp? What if the storm provoked a stray charge? What if it sparked the outlet and set the building on fire? How would she stand herself, knowing that her carelessness ruined the Institution, her safest haven?
Olympia’s eyes were tight as they darted back towards the bathroom door on her third time around her small circle. She’d try one more time, but she had to hurry back to the room. That excess electricity could be building now, rushing it’s way down the wires and targeting her plug. The boom of thunder made her furiously pumping heart leap up into her mouth. She swallowed it shakily and swung around to knock the door one more time. “Heath? Heath, it’s me. I—” She trailed off and clenched her jaw, having lost her next sentence in the disconnected mess overworking her mind. "Heath, I have to go. I--I just need to go." For such a simple, fragmented sentence, the OCD patient had a surprising amount of trouble actually putting her voice to the words and letting them roll off her tongue. Instead, they remained lodged in her throat, almost choking her.
The afternoon had gone to shambles so quickly, some tiny and insignificant part of her thought with dismay. It was all ruined. It was the worst kind of mess for Olympia to deal with. She could deal with the physical things with little stress if she gave in to her compulsions. She could organize disorderly sock drawers in minutes and feel content afterwards, having finished a physical task. But it was things like this, things that dealt with the intangible--emotions, thoughts, communal panic--that pushed her over the edge. She couldn't color-coordinate things like this. She couldn't touch them or fix them. All there was for her to do was step back and let it all play out as it would. And it just so happened that relinquishing her instinctive need for control and order was near impossible.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
OutOfCharacter ❝ Still a little messy. Sorry.
PS: Heath's post = Askfjsdkfj. 4laugh Too cute.
Song (new one) in main picture, outfit in second. ❞
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 5:31 pm
  There was some lapse between listening and seeing, where Angelo was more in his own mind than the real world. This happened more often than was healthy, but it shouldn't have been any surprise. It was normal behavior for a schizophrenic, right? After all, there was just so much happening in his mind, that it was sometimes hard to stay out of it. The television was still ablaze, the flames dancing higher than before, and it still rattled on with its lack of signal. What he was listening for was the crack of the fire as it chewed on the plastic frame of the television, or the buzz of the tv. It was all too quiet.
Quiet wasn't a word in Angelo's vocabulary. The voices chewed on it, as if it were dangerous, they grew only louder to fill the void. . . . can't go. . . the voices shouted the same message in different words. . . .they'll kill you. . . Surely, Angelo had no death wish, he didn't wish to be killed, he wasn't even indifferent on the topic. He didn't want to die, but somehow it was hard to consider it a possibility.
Lately, though, the voices had become preferable to those in reality. Angelo spent more and more time staring blankly, mumbling to himself, sometimes laughing, or completely void of emotion. In his head, the people spoke the language he wanted them to. They don't care about you. . . Angelo opened his eyes, or maybe they'd always been open, but the fire had climbed off of the television and crawled along the walls. The room was ablaze, but Angelo did not sweat nor feel the heat. It was as if the room was closing in.
They'd rather see you burn, than leave. . . It rose from the mass of whispers, calm, icy, even. There was a deafening shriek, coming from the television, a tower of flame except for the glass screen that appeared to be expanding in the heat, its picture distorted but identifiable. Pain. That was the word for it. Blood, and needles, and death. The cold halls of the hospital creeping in. And Angelo felt numb. As cold as the white-washed rooms and interchangeable nurses with their cool smiles and false sincerity.
The man sat on the couch beside him, drenched in red, shadows pooled in the creases of his suit. "Tutto è permesso in guerra." Under any ordinary situation, that would've been considered far over the top. If Angelo were himself, these days it was hard to tell what exact "himself" was, he would've blown it off as being dramatic to the point of stupidity. The couch, among the other furniture, was clothed in flames, bathed in them. The room was vibrant with reds and oranges, but even so Angelo couldn't pull his eyes from the man garbed in black.
Above the mass of warnings there was screaming. Feminine. It was familiar. Serena. Screaming was not an uncommon sound in a mental hospital, but from Serena it was not a regular occurrence. Angelo wasn't worried. It wasn't as though he didn't care, or rather that he thought things would work themselves out, it was simply that he had worked through the present, and anything in the future was simply beyond what his mind was currently capable of. The presence of the man had a more lasting effect than the fire, or the screaming.
He demanded attention, even in his still silence. His face was unreadable, his feature indescribable, but Angelo found something different and strangely unnerving about him. He seemed tense. Angel sat for a moment in the heavy silence, taking it in and waiting for its resolution to come. When, finally, he had to break it. He didn't feel the tension ease up, but he hadn't felt it in the first place-- but he'd known it was there, just as he'd known the fire would be there even if he closed his eyes-- despite the fact that he couldn't hear it. "Cosa c'è?"
The man didn't move, but sat there a moment, as if he were deciphering the question, taking in whatever underlying meaning there might have been. Angela was too aware of the tongues of flame crawling from the arms of the sofa, and its back, onto his shoulders and arms. But he couldn't panic. "Dovete lasciare." The man responded in his typical, cryptic way. His gaze was set firmly on the television, calm and cool and cold.
Angelo followed his gaze. The screen was black. The fire was gone, and Angel found that he had broken out in a cold sweat. The man wasn't on the couch, any longer, and there were several curious eyes on him. The transition was always hard. Always. It was like coming to another planet, like not knowing the language everyone else was speaking, not entirely sure how to communicate with them. Sometimes not sure if they are who you think they are, if what you do will matter. Angelo tugged lightly at his collar, his eyes searching the floor.
Others had joined him in the waiting room, but Angelo was in such a state that eye contact was preferred to little more than being stoned to death in the recreation room. That room was the last place Angel wanted to die. The place was bland, plain. Boring. There was a nurse at Angelo's shoulder, she was writing something in deft little strokes, so focused that she took a moment to realize that Angel had resurfaced. "Are you all ready to go, Angelo?" He stared at her confoundedly for a moment, as if English were familiar, but not understandable. As if he hadn't heard it spoken in years. Finally, it clicked, and he nodded apprehensively.
Angelo had always prided himself on his strength, his tough skin, and his ability to shrug off his adventures in whatever parallel universe his hellish disease threw him into. But it was unsettling. They'd been bad before, waking nightmares, but he'd never felt so much danger even after they had ended and he'd come to breath the air of normal folks again. Angel's paranoia was starting to grip him, the voices had not silenced, but had fallen quiet at least for the moment. The quiet seemed only to intensify the danger the hospital held for them. Could the others feel it?
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 7:09 pm
S E R E N A ♦ W O O D S I'M NOT PERFECT BUT I'LL KEEP TRYING.
'CAUSE THAT'S WHAT I SAID , I WOULD, DO FROM THE START. xxxxxxxxxxxx prescribed pills to offset the {s h a k e s} to offset the pills.I'M NOT ALIVE IF I'M LONELY; SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWAS IT SOMETHING I SAID?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOR JUST MY PERSONALITY xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Serena was not impressed that her latest wound had resulted in her needing to be dragged off in quite the scene to the infirmary. Surely half of the hospital's wing was wondering what her problem was for screaming so much, but they would probably be able to deduce that it had something to do with her self-injury. Everyone knew about her problem, despite the fact she tried to hide it, hating the look of the scars upon her skin.
“HEY! LET ME IN! SERENA! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
From within the infirmary, Serena could hear the familiar sound of Michael's voice. Inwardly she was actually quite happy that he was showing such concern for her. She liked it when she was the center of someone's world, especially when it was someone so special to her - even if it was for a few moments. She wanted the world to love her and take care of her every minute of every day. Once the work was done and the restraints were taken off, Serena was permitted to get up off of the bed. Her steps were slightly wobbly due to the medication that she had been given to calm her down. She was glad to hear the offer from Micheal to help hold her up - even if she didn't need it (which she did, right about now) she would have accepted anyway. As she approached him, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder to help her walk in the direction of the bus. Serena was actually quite surprised that she was permitted on this trip after the stunt that she had just pulled.
"Thanks," she whispered.
Obnoxious Overdosing Crisis ﹛ THIS IS SO SICKENING UNCHARACTERISTIC FOR ME. /shortshortshort. I think once we get more action/drama going I'll be back into the swing. ﹜
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 7:44 pm
I'm definitely okay.
I'm not perfectly fine.
I'm thinking straight,
no, there's something wrong.
Just let me go, you're treating the wrong-
Go ahead, ask me anything... I remember it all.
Frank panicked, he knew Serena's history and his heart pounded. He wanted her to be okay, he wanted her to be as safe as possible. He found his feet had brought him closer to the infirmary where he was beaten by Mike in the hysteria. Mike was by her side, she was clinging to him. Frank sighed and just followed them a few paces behind to the bus. The other orderlies seemed to have made a nice little path to make sure they all actually made it to the bus. Frank had finally caught up to Mike and Serena. He gently grasped her shoulder and smiled crookedly, "I'm glad you're... I'm glad you're fine now." He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked towards her. He really hoped he hadn't annoyed her with his comment.
Obviously Mike had taken good care of her, he always did after she had an episode. He let out a breath and finally just said it, "Want to sit together on the bus?" He aimed his question towards Serena, but she would probably turn him down to be with the guy she paid so much attention to earlier. Frank felt like he had been put aside for the guy who seemed flawless. He couldn't help but feel jealous, the girl of his dreams was all over some other guy. (At least, in Frank's eyes.) In all honesty, he had no idea how she felt. Frank just patiently waited for the let down he anticipated to fall from her lips.
( ooc: sorry it's sooo short, guys. /: I promise my posts will be better when things get boiling. )
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 10:11 pm
|You shut your mouth|
|How d a r e you say|
|I go about things the w r o n g w a y|
|I am a h u m a n and I need to be l o v e d|
|Just like everybody else does| ▂▃▅▆█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▌ Ignoring the venomous outbursts, Heath remained frozen to that spot on the floor. Ignoring the slightly cold, damp, sensation pressing into his skin. He hadn’t noticed that the floor was somewhat wet until this moment from the steam forming little droplets that had begun to sink down the wall; but, he had too much on his mind to notice. A blurry wall separating his brain from reality, he vaguely recalled hearing a soft rapping noise on wood. Somewhere in the background. The room keeps growing darker…Darker and darker for hours and hours. Trapped in another dimension, Heath was entombed in the past, standing in the mostly unused study that most people preferred to ignore from lack of good selection. Like most nights after the monthly ‘outings’, him and Frank had continued to stay awake after everyone else went to bed, sneaking out of their rooms to talk about whatever happened to come up. Heath hadn’t much to say besides his latest internet exploits and meeting new friends, so he thought he would change the subject by bringing up: Olympia. Usually, Heath liked to keep deep, personal, issues out of their midnight conversations; but, he genuinely wanted Frank’s advice.
“ So, I‘ve been thinking about asking Olympia out, What do you think?”, Frank finally through the question out in the air. Frank had been relaxing with his arms resting on the back of the couch, nodding every so often to his comments. Seeing Frank raise an eyebrow, his friend pressed his hand upwards to refasten his glassed up to their ‘appointed’ spot on the bridge of his nose. Something Frank tended to do when he was giving a matter the thought and care that it required. After a miniature eternity, Heath debated changing the subject. ‘ If your going to say she doesn‘t like me that way, just come right out and say it.’, Most people tended to look at Heath like he was something disgusting, and although Olympia was one of the ‘nuts’ here, he was quite worried that she would give him a funny look if he were to ask her to be his girlfriend. ‘ Hurry up and gather your thoughts Frank!’, Heath was becoming impatient, mostly because he expected negative news.
“ Well, I think if you really like her and you have the confidence that she feels the same way, go for it. There‘s no harm in trying.” Heath raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘ Wow, that was optimistic.’, allowing himself to be encouraged, Heath flashed a genuine smile, showing his nearly perfect teeth with the sunshine on his face. There wasn’t any harm in trying, Frank was right. ‘ Then I‘ll just spend some time with her, and gauge whether or not she likes me.’ For some reason, despite his smile, Frank shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Seemingly anxious about something, Heath looked at his friend with a concerned expression, wondering what was on his mind. ‘ Hmm?’, his face seemed to say, and Heath got up from the sofa chair to move over to the couch beside his friend. Propping his back up against the armrest, Heath tilted his head in avid curiosity. ‘ He must have something important on his mind…’ His friend was awkwardly uncomfortable, perhaps he had a crush of his own he wanted to mention? Recalling Frank’s relationship with Serena, he couldn’t help but allow a wandering thought to flutter into his mind. Finally, Frank looked up into his eyes, pinning Heath with a pleasing gaze.
“ Listen, I have the same kinda…um…”, Frank fulped and rubbed his hands together. Even in the dim light, Heath could tell that her friends’ hands were sweaty. ‘ Wow, he‘s really worried about this…’, trying to be a good friend, Heath formed his right hand into a fist and lightly smacked it into Frank’s upper arm to be reassuring. Shaking his head, Heath passed him a playful, teasing, expression. Almost cat-like in it’s shrewdness as Heath crossed his arms to toy with the man.
“ Spit it out; man.”, Heath shook his head and made a face. ‘ Whats the hold up?’, His friend was having a very hard time focusing on his face…or one thing in the room for that matter. Watching Frank’s eyes dart about the room in peripheral confusion, Heath raised an inquisitive brow. Obviously, this was a matter very important to his friend, and he almost began to debate whether or not ‘Billy’ was trying to come out. Which would make continuing this conversation impossible. However, in the next moment, Frank anxiously began to spit up what had been on his mind.
“ It‘s Serena, I have the same kinda…um…”, Frank was really having a hard time, too hard a time. ‘ Is he going to pass out?’, Genuinely worried, Heath leaned forward to try to debate shaking his friend if he were to black out from existence. He continued to stare randomly about the room in panic-stricken distress. ‘ Should I get up and fetch some water or something? Does he need his pills?’, worried to no end, Heath had never seen his friend this distressed about a girl. ‘ Whats going on? Why is this so hard for you?’, it was just Serena he was talking about. Then the thought occurred to him: ‘ Does he still think I have a crush on her?’, knowing how strong he had liked Serena three years before, perhaps his friend was worried that he would be jealous or threaten to punch his lights out. ‘ Naw, he wouldn‘t think that would he? Pfft, I got over her a long time ago.’ Convinced that had to be the reason for his randomly staring about the room, Heath didn’t think about it before setting his hand reassuringly on Frank’s shoulder.
“ I don‘t like Serena that way anymore…If that’s…what…your think...ing…”, Out of nowhere, a strange expression had overshadowed Frank’s once panic-stricken face. If not for it being physically impossible, Heath would have sworn that his eyes had darkened and changed in shape. There was something unnaturally wild about the expression dancing in his eyes, and seeing such a drastic change in his expression so suddenly froze Heath immobile. But there was another conclusion. Frank might no longer be in the room. For some reason, that idea filled Heath’s heart with fear, and he was never one prone to paranoid anxiety. ‘ Please be Billy…Please be Billy…’ was all Heath could mentally muster. Billy was silent, occasionally played board games with him, but usually left the room. Billy was safe. Billy was nice. Billy was good. If Billy wasn’t in the room, then he had to wonder whom had taken his place. ‘ Not the murderous one…’, Heath had jokingly called him when he first ’showed up’ after seeing ‘Richard’ scream the alphabet of swear words at an orderly. Somehow, if that personality were to threaten biting your tongue off, Heath believed that ‘personality’ capable of doing so. Which was why Heath slowly began to retract his hand from Frank’s shoulder with genuine fear tingling all over his body. Something wasn’t right. Animalistically, every urge in his body was screaming: RUN HEATH! GET THE F*** OUT OF HERE! GRAB A WEAPON! DEFEND YOURSELF! But this was Frank…-Frank-… Surely Heath was imagining things. With a trembling hand, Heath patted his friend’s shoulder. ‘ I have to be…’
“ F…Frank? Is…Is everything okay?”, But it was too late, ‘Frank’ had turned to look at him with that wild look in his eye and before he could even debate jumping off of the couch she knew Richard was occupying her best friend’s body. ‘ Oh sh*t!’, Having been a dear in headlights before, he made up for it by hurriedly flying his body off of the couch with almost a ‘spasm-like’ flight of fancy. He had to get away, that was all he could think of, but the floor was as far as Heath managed to get. With two strong hands clasping on his ankle, Heath almost got rug burn on his arms as he was dragged back to the couch.
Standing behind the couch watching this entire scene play out was Heath, zoned out in his own little nightmare, watching everything from a different perspective. Watching it emotionlessly, Heath crossed his arms and walked forward to look at the scene playing out on the floor in front of the sofa. Touching where he remembered feeling the carpet scraping across his arms, Heath felt the nausea begin to return. Not just because of the horrific screams and cries being echoed into his ear, but because all his sounds were not masculine. It was like watching two different people, and that was what was so very confusing about the entire ordeal. Most of the time, Heath just had a deeper sounding voice than a girl should have, high pitched? Only if he got kicked in the sensitive places. Watching the struggle on the floor for several minutes, hearing the sound of duct tape being ripped from the skin, Heath heard the girlish scream and grimaced in revulsion. At that moment, the voice in his head whispered another little morbid comment. Not even allowing those words to ‘pass‘ into his ears, Heath‘s eyes widened in shock. ‘ NO I DON‘T! Shut up! SHUT UP!’, Hearing another cry from the ‘real world’ slip into his consciousness, Heath stopped looking at the struggle on the carpet and turned to look out the window. Seeing the bathroom where he ‘really’ was, Heath’s face contorted in an uneasy sadness. Nay, a bitter sadness that Heath could no longer endure without squeezing his head between his hands to resist weeping like a pathetic child. ‘ What the hell am I supposed to feel about this?!?’ His subconscious decided to comment.
Do you really want to hear it again, or are you going to freak out? Heath growled in response and grabbed a pillow from floor where it had been kicked over. Using it as a weapon, Heath slammed it against ‘Richard’s’ back even though it was feeble to stop the scene from replaying. Still, the pillow smacking into his back felt good. Like banging a stick against a pinata without the blindfold. The person kept on…keeping’ on, and Heath eventually gave up when no metaphorical candy popped out in his frustration. Yep, Heath was going to freak out if he heard it, he made that perfectly clear.
“ Heath, are you okay?”, Hearing that watery voice again poking into his mental pool and causing ripples, Heath turned his attention back to the window and growled in frustration. ‘ The field trip! Olympia!’, Smirking to himself, Heath could not help but grin. ‘ Wow, she‘s worried about me.’, closing his eyes, the ‘real’ Heath opened his eyes and stood up from the bathroom floor. Walking to the sink, Heath started to wash his hands under the scalding water and unintentionally ended up repeating the process once or twice. ‘ Just in case she asks how many times I washed my hands.’, Allowing his mind to go blank, suddenly the ‘stray’ thought pushed itself into his mind: ‘ Oh no, did I lock my door?…Yes of course.’, not even considering the possibility of being able to read thoughts, Heath just tossed it off as himself hearing things through Olympia’s voice like the ‘dream’ he had stumbled into a moment. ‘ Speaking of which…’, Heath hadn’t considered whether or not he had locked his door. He didn’t really have anything of value in there, so he figured that it didn’t matter, and turned when he heard another loud thump against the door.
“ Heath? Heath, it‘s me. I-”, Heath turned off the sink and hurriedly rushed over to the towel dispenser. ‘ Better hurry, or she‘ll leave and you won‘t have any chances.’, Pulling a few paper towels out of the dispenser, he was just in the process of drying his hands when another thought of his having her pretty voice resurfaced in his brain. ‘ Heath, I have to go. I-I just need to go.’, Olympia’s voice whispered into his brain, and at that Heath had to pause and question the odd statements. They certainly seemed like something Olympia would want to say; but, was he making up those thoughts, or was she speaking aloud and he was just foggy from earlier?
“ I‘m hurrying, I know we have to go!”, With that, Heath headed towards the door.
Almost storming out of the bathroom after tossing the wet towels into the trash can, Heath’s hundred watt sunshine poured out from his face as he saw Olympia standing there waiting for him. Actually waiting for him. Shaking his head at whatever random scribblings happened to poke about his brain, Heath boldly reached out his freshly dried, clean, hand to try and take hold of their own. With a nurse giving them a friendly: ‘Better hurry’ smile, It was not long before Heath was climbing into the bus with Olympia beside him. Climbing into the second seat behind the driver out of sheer habit of always taking that spot on the bus. ‘ Now we just have to wait for everyone else to get on.’, Smiling courteously at everyone, well…almost everyone, Heath averted a glare when his gaze connected with Frank’s for a sheer moment. It wasn’t that looking at ‘Frank’ made him angry or pissed him off; but, he couldn’t look at ‘Frank’ without thinking of ‘Richard’, and the thoughts connected with the latter were too painfully confusing to feel anything besides anger and resentment. Turning his attention back towards Olympia, Heath tried to reassuringly squeeze her hand.
“ If it‘s boring, we can always vote to come home early.”, Home wasn’t the word he would have wanted to use; but, this was the only home he had at the moment. His father was too ashamed to answer any of his letters. Not dwelling on the subject long enough to soil his mood, Heath grinned a contented grin and smiled his sunshine smile. Sending a little wink her way, just because he felt like giving one.
▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▆▅▃▂ |When you s a y it's gonna happen 'now'|
|When exactly do you m e a n?|
|See I've already waited too long|
|and a l l my h o p e is gone| [With them all having psychic powers (we can all do everything, but some do other things more than others) I wanted to incorporate a bit of that in my post. If you hate this poison, I can edit that part out :3 And yes! We will all get all nuts and crazy when the plot stew thickens...]
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Posted: Wed Feb 02, 2011 10:19 pm
O L Y M P I A ♡ ALORAH ♡ M C G U I N N E S S missaisincrediblyepicjustincaseyouwondered it's all because of you; it's all because of you; it's all because of you
Olympia had begun to turn back towards her room when the bathroom door burst open, exposing a beaming Heath. Before she could properly protest and run back to her room—which was becoming an increasingly focused subject of worry for her—she felt his hand close around hers. While she would later wish she’d reacted differently, or even normally, Olympia couldn’t change her first thoughts. She didn’t feel the butterflies she’d heard girls squeal about on the static-y television. She didn’t feel a sudden surge of giddiness. Her first thought wasn’t, ’Oh my god!’ Heath’s holding my hand!’. It was: ‘Germs!’ And she winced.
Instinctively, her hand twitched, as if hinting at its desperate want for release. But then she felt how clean his hand was. It was still warm for the hot water—the Institute seemed to have definite aversion to combining hot and cold water and tended to release very radical temperatures—and had a particularly comforting feel. It felt….just so clean. It was free of the dusty, grimy film that covered most hands and made the blonde immediately think of slimy subway poles and dry dirt. It was smooth and fresh, if stil slightly dewy from the water.
She’d been in the Institute for a while. Long enough to reluctantly think of it as her home, at least. She remembered getting there early, way earlier than she should have. She remembered still being a girl when she came, too young to be a young woman, but more of a gray-area. She was still at the age when organizing the kitchen cabinet was adequate entertainment for the afternoon, before the ones which she’d spend loathing her need for perfection and wishing she was one of the girls on TV came along. The bond she formed with her friends was tentative at first and anything but easy. Her obsession with cleanliness and order made it hard for her to join in spontaneous mud-fights or any other impulsive, messy activity conceived.
She supposed they were close enough for her to consider them her safety net, but still different enough not to be almost-family. So when Heath took her hand and led her towards the bus—and away from her worrisome room—Olympia had only the aforementioned concern. She glanced over her shoulder, almost straining her neck, back towards the Dormitories just before the Institute door swung shut behind them.
She watched the others file in, most still flushed from the still-fresh worry for Serena. Olympia’s eyes flickered from the approaching fellow patients to Heath’s profile. She couldn’t deny he was handsome, but she couldn’t say she’d ever really given him much thought before. They were friendly, of course, but the way he was still holding her hand made Olympia wonder if she’d missed something. She was never cold or detached, always sunny and happy as long as things were in order. She always invested herself fully in any conversation she actually wanted to be having. So why did Heath’s suggestions and actions take her so off guard?
Several thoughts started, but trailed off before they were finished. Hell, even her thought process was being effected by the afternoon’s strange, disconnected nature. And—oh. She watched curiously, her head tilted just so to the side, as Heath finished examining the incoming patients and turned to face her. He squeezed her hand, the hand she’d quite forgotten he was holding.
“ If it‘s boring, we can always vote to come home early.”
He beamed her one of his signature smiles and winked. A smile bloomed up on her lips in reply, spreading like ivy into a faintly dimpled grin. “Deal.” Olympia let herself look at him for a few beats longer than she usually did, as if she were trying to make up for lost time, before settling back in her seat. She’d realized she’d been leaning a little forward the whole time people were boarding the bus, as if she were waiting for something…else. She nestled back into the seat and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible, though the task proved difficult when she began to think just how dirty the bus must be after so many regular trips. She smoothed her skirt out with her free hand, trying her best to keep the material as a barrier of sorts between the skin of her legs and the worn, faux-leather seats.
She leaned her head back against the seat—though practically every cell in her body yelled in protest to the idea of her hair touching the probably poorly cleaned material—and turned her head towards the window for just a minute. The usually green and lavish landscape seemed to have been painted over in a fine coat of dreary, rainy gray. The barely audible sigh that escaped through her nose made a faint circle on the glass. She turned away from the sight and offered another smile to her companion. Her gaze lingered on his features…again.
She was suddenly overcome by a cacophony of advice in handling situations like this, voices of girls she’d never heard before reading all those magazine articles aloud—the magazines the therapists didn’t want her to read, the ones for wonderfully ordinary girls—dictating her next move or lack thereof. Squeeze his hand. Say something. Say nothing. Wait for him to say something. Think. Don’t think; go with your gut. Olympia blinked against the torrent of stored information and did her best to stifle her thoughts. Instead, she looked. She looked past his profile, out towards the Institution (which she was relatively sure would burn down in her absence, probably because of her lamp), then back to him and down to their hands. It was an alien sight, for sure, but she still hadn’t decided whether it was a pleasant one or a dreadful one.
Though she wished she could say otherwise, at nineteen, Olympia had hardly ever had any physical contact, least of all from a boy. His skin was still warm, though the water on his palm had long since dried, and she found foreign comfort in the way their fingers touched. But the idea of touching someone else’s germs made her stomach flip in a decidedly negative way. He’s clean, he’s clean, he’s clean. It was like a silent mantra, repeated fervently until the phrase ran into one endless word in her head.
Olympia lifted her electric-blue eyes and offered him another smile, deciding then and there to treat this situation as another challenge. Mimicking his previous gesture, Olympia gently tightened her comfortably loose grip on his hand for half a heart beat before relaxing her hold. She briefly considered resting her head on his shoulder, just to see what it felt like and if she could handle being that close, before deciding her bravery had its limits. It wasn’t that she was scared of his reaction so much as she was scared of her own. While she was leaning towards deciding her contact with him was nice, Olympia was still precariously perched between tentatively enjoying herself and leaping away from him, ripping their hands apart and bolting off the bus. She was pushing herself, though the foundation of her courage was beginning to crack. She looked past him and out the window on the opposite side of the bus before huffing a small sigh and settling back in her seat. “This rain is driving me crazy...well, crazier.” She said, hoping to distract herself, arching her sky-blue eyes up towards the ceiling before rolling them back down and focusing them on the countenance of her companion. For a moment before she acted, Olympia felt terrible about using this sunny, beaming boy as just a means of experimenting with her own boundaries, but she highly doubted she'd get another chance to try herself like this if she pushed him away now. And so, with a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, the blond patient laced her fingers through his.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo OutOfCharacter ❝Nonono!! I LOVE IT!
Plus, it could make for some pretty awkward situatiosn later when Olympia’s…thinking.
PS: Not gonna lie, this girl is kind of a buzzkill. Oh, well. We’ll see C:
PPS: I'm sure this could use editing. Just wanted to toss it up C; Sorry it's kinda lame. Still trying to figure her out.
Song (Emiliana Torrini) in main picture, outfit in second. ❞
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Thu Feb 03, 2011 3:29 am
"What is that?" Angelo asked, he couldn't help his voice taking on a relatively cold tone, sounding almost mildly disgusted-- as if new medication was truly unthinkable. The nurse was one of the older ones, he recognized her as having been here since before he had. She was one that you didn't want to give excuses. She was a b***h, sure, but sometimes that was what the people here required, to keep them on track. Angelo didn't count himself in as one of those people, he'd only been in solitary confinement once or twice upon first coming, but it was absolutely a misunderstanding.
"They're pills." Was her quick response, even as she pushed the little paper cup into his hand, she was half hauling him toward the door. Ordinarily, there wouldn't be such a fuss about him going on this trip. The chorus in his head sang out to run. Freedom was so close he could breath it, and maybe they would never find him. As if to tell him this new prescription was Angelo's fault, she added, sounding annoyed, "Sarah told me about your episode this morning."
With that, Angelo had no way to argue. And what would he say? Without another complaint, he down the pills, and for a moment it crossed his mind to hold them. Sure, people did it. The voices seemed to agree wholeheartedly with the idea, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. What if this was the combination? What if this was what could cure him? What if by not taking it, he was confining himself hear for life? There was no point in regret after he downed the paper cup of water.
Angelo felt like a prisoner being marched to the electric chair from his cell. The Nurse had a iron grip on his elbow, as she led him to the bus. But what was he thinking? It wasn't as if the voices were right, were they? No, they couldn't be. All of the field trips before had been normal, hadn't they? Why would this one be any different? Angel had always thought there was something weird about the doctors, but that couldn't possibly mean that there was something wrong with everything, right?
The nurse led him to the steps of the bus and gave him a quick push forward. Angelo glanced back at her, thinking for a moment, of her as an escort to the executioner. He reluctantly climbed the steps and planted himself in an empty seat. He'd been soaked in the rain, it made his thinking to bring a jacket completely useless. And outside it was still pouring. On the bus, everyone seemed in a relatively good mood, considering all that had happened just before their departure.
Seeing as how putting his worries to bed had failed, he tried to push them aside. He would wait, he didn't have much else of a choice. He couldn't help himself, he glanced back jealously at the others on the bus, completely unaware. It wasn't fair, he wished he could be oblivious, even if he was walking into the slaughter house, why did he already have to know its purpose? And why him? Why not anyone else? Angelo didn't spend any time with the other schizophrenics in the hospital, because a lot of them were catatonic, and he couldn't keep his jealousy of the better-off ones under control. Besides that, he hated to think that he seemed like the others, all downtrodden and miserable.
He seemed more like that now, than he had before. Today had been active. He'd lost his entire morning doing God knows what, and coming to in the middle of the hall to realize that today they were being shipped off to the slaughter house, and the man paid him two visits. Angelo, despite how crazy it sounded, didn't want the man mad at him, it was the last thing he wanted. But that seemed to be what he had earned by refusing to believe that the hospital was churning out "crazy meat"-- it's what's for dinner.
Angelo was tired, he felt tired and he likely looked tired. It was not usual for him to get so down over the things he was told by those that didn't even exist, but he felt as though he ought to value the man's opinion. Besides that, the fire, and the hours worth of wandering-- it was exhausting. Angelo leaned his head back on the seat wondering if he'd rather sleep or die on the way to their unknown destination, but the voices thought that was a stupid idea.
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Posted: Fri Feb 04, 2011 8:33 pm
|Don't {t h i n k} that your so great, cause being G R E A T must s-u-u-u-u-c-k| |My {h e a r t} is in the right place|
|So wipe that s-m-i-r-k right o f f your [face]|
|Don't make me feel like t-h-a-t|
|Cause that's [just] plain not nice|
▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶ Completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend liked his help more than a proper friend should, Mike slowly carted his friend towards the main door near the garage. If not for his own ankle and the physical exhaustion he had from running more than his body to bear, he would have made it to the to the back entrance sooner than ‘last’ in place. Hearing her ‘thanks’ of gratitude, Mike grinned her characteristic smirk and let out a gentle chuckle. Usually his friend had the nicest things to say, except on her bad days, so it was always nice to hear the little things she commented sometimes.
“ Heh, no problem.”, Folding his arms around his friend in an embrace, Mike nuzzled his chin on the top of Serena’s head during the side-squeeze enough to unknowingly see Frank touch Serena’s shoulder. Not thinking anything of the embrace he now held Serena within, Mike softly pulled away a little to end the hug in the assumption that he would be helping her onto the bus. Frank seemed especially awkward around Serena as of late, and him being a guy, understood exactly why he kept pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. ‘ Aww, Serena someone has a big crush on you.’, chuckling to himself, Mike smiled brightly at his redheaded friend and was about to raise his arm from atop Serena’s shoulder when a strange sensation tugged at his gut. Assuming it to only be an ‘older brother’ or ‘protective’ sensation that gnawed at his stomach. For some reason Mike couldn’t ignore the: She’s in -my- arms, get the F*** away! SKEE! that continued to gnaw and gnaw as fumbling Frank touched her on the shoulder.
“ Want to sit together on the bus?”, Reluctantly, Mike’s face formed a grumble and he slowly unfolded his arm from around Serena’s shoulders. ‘ Come-on, this is Frank. I don‘t need to be protective around Frank. Ha! He wouldn‘t do anything to harm her.’, Shaking his head, Mike laughed cheerfully and smiled at his other friend. Lifting his right arm to touch his middle and pointer finger against his forehead as if tipping an imaginary hat. ‘ That’s my cue,’ Mike wordlessly said as he took a step towards the bus to give the man a fighting chance.
“ I‘ll see you at…wherever we‘re going.”, At that Michael grinned and reached into his pocket for his little seagreen notebook. Only to find that not only had he forgotten his coat, he had misplaced his notebook. ‘ Oh no! My…my notebook!’, Running back across the hall, as painfully as it was with his exhausted muscles, Mike was about to run up the stairs when Dr. Bale’s feet began to pound down the staircase. In his hands was Michael’s notebook. The sharpie writing pen still pressed in-between the pages. Completely oblivious to the idea that Dr. Bale could have been reading his private thoughts, Michael could only take a deep breath to relieve his anxiety and reach out his hand in the hopes of being handed the little book. Mike took that little notebook everywhere, so it was only natural that he would not want to leave the hospital without it. Finishing his journey downstairs, Dr. Bale raised an inquisitive brow at the information he had just gathered and handed the man his notebook.
“ Here. Don‘t leave this in my office again.” Daniel immediately grabbed it before heading back downstairs to the bus. Not wasting his time by socializing or waving at his friends on the bus, Mike just hobbled up the three steps and took his rightful place behind the driver where he always sat. Propping his body up diagonally so that he could lay his both upon the window and the edge of the seat, Mike closed his eyes as a thunderclap rolled outside and the sound of rain eased him into his dream world. With the pounding of the droplets beating against the glass to soothe him, Michael opened his eyes as the door screeched to a close and the bus began to ricochet out towards the entranceway. ‘ Not much else to do…’, Thought Mike as he opened his notebook and took the cap off of his writing sharpee pen. Making sure the cap was tightly pushed upon the bottom of the pen, Michael began to aimlessly scribble little lines while closing his eyes and day-dreaming about the beach again. Remembering exactly what the beach had made him think of before, Michael grimaced and decided to think about standing outside in the grass beneath the rain, and the ‘scribbled’ little swirls began to form words in cursive print.
‘﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏No﹏don‘t﹏do﹏it﹏Tim﹏﹏Don‘t﹏do﹏it﹏its﹏too﹏risky﹏now﹏﹏﹏’
Completely unaware of just -what- he was penning, his skills as an ‘automatic writer’ had begun to blossom when he was four years old. Little did Michael know, he was actually writing the thoughts of another person standing outside in the rain. A man who had purposefully imprinted his ‘aura’ onto the rain-drenched plain just outside of the Hospital, trying to summon the willpower to actually contact these ‘stolen’ children.
'﹏﹏I﹏wont﹏Peter﹏but﹏I﹏need﹏to﹏know﹏that﹏she's﹏okay﹏﹏﹏'
Unbeknownst to the other occupants in the bus, Mike kept scribbling away a little conversation in his journal with his eyes closed and his cheek pressed against the foggy glass. The cold numbing all feeling as his hand felt the pressure of the pen against the scratchy paper. Of all the sensations in this world, the feel of the pen scratching its little ball and leaving behind the trail of ink was the most succulent thing he could possibly imagine. The strange scent accompanying it from the ink pleased him just as much. Nearly meditating in his escape from reality, Michael became a channel, writing out random thoughts from his pretend 'classmates', people walking on the street as the bus drove through town, or more of the conversation between Tim and Peter.
◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄ |We don't a l w a y s see the [bright] side|
|And I lied when I said I was fine|
|You s l a p p e d my face today|
But I have licked my w o u n d s and {c a r r i e d} on
|Reality is {t r u l y} scaring me|
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Posted: Sat Feb 05, 2011 10:55 pm
S E R E N A ♦ W O O D S I'M NOT PERFECT BUT I'LL KEEP TRYING.
'CAUSE THAT'S WHAT I SAID , I WOULD, DO FROM THE START. xxxxxxxxxxxx prescribed pills to offset the {s h a k e s} to offset the pills.I'M NOT ALIVE IF I'M LONELY; SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxWAS IT SOMETHING I SAID?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOR JUST MY PERSONALITY xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As Serena was released from Michael's assisting grip, she noticed herself beginning to feel... a sense of almost jealousy. An intense burst of an emotion she had no reason to be experiencing. She was very, very used to emotional lability and was always told that it was a result of her diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. But this time felt different, something felt wrong and it didn't sit right with her. Hearing the sound of Frank's voice forced her to shove the feeling aside, at least for now. It had only been a short-lived experience, anyhow.
"Want to sit together on the bus?"
Serena's gaze met his and she could easily feel a sense of unease in the boy. Almost as if he was nervous about asking her such a question. After the intense emotional burst she had just felt, she wasn't sure if she was just being over-sensitive and imagining things, or if what she thought was real. She decided to dismiss this as well, her therapist was teaching her to try to let go of things that aren't as big of a deal as she made them out to be.
"Sure!" she responded with a smile as she boarded the bus ahead of him, carefully picking out a seat where she felt would be best. She chose an area that did not have many surrounding passengers, although she was a little unsure of why. It was almost as if she felt the need to be isolated as much as possible. A part of her didn't even want to be sitting with anyone, but she had already said yes to Frank so she did not want to change her mind and cause him to feel bad.
As she took a seat, she looked out the window to see one of the other patients of the hospital wandering about the grounds. He was being escorted by a nurse, so it was clear that he wasn't going to be attending the trip, he couldn't have high enough privileges if he wasn't aloud outside alone. Just like before, another burst of unexplained emotion came over Serena, and she couldn't contain herself, looking at Frank who had followed behind her.
"CAN'T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!" she screamed at him, but as soon as the words left her mouth she immediately regretted them. She had no idea what came over her, but now it was starting to become a problem. She knew that as soon as the staff found out, she was going to be medicated further so that they could prevent more outbursts. She didn't want that. She didn't like the medication. "I'm... I'm so sorry. Please... sit down. I want you to sit with me." Serena added the last part, hoping to redeem herself to her friend, even though she figured he surely thought there was something really wrong with her for what she'd done.
Obnoxious Overdosing Crisis ﹛ Sorry for the slight godmod. I'm trying to touch on her "powers" so to speak... so she's feeling the emotions of those around her. ﹜
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Posted: Sun Feb 06, 2011 1:57 am
Silhouetted amongst the crowd outside the Philadelphia Museum of Natural History holding a grey umbrella stood a man wearing pale yellow sunglasses and a dull green winter coat. Blending into the background, if not for the strange emblem sewn into the hem of his jeans there was nothing out of the ordinary about his appearance. Pretending to read the local newspaper, Peter Morris averted his covered gaze towards the doorway of a restaurant situated across the street. To tell the truth, the restaurant was a combination diner/bar that his friend: Tim Vans had taken a fancy to.
However, Tim, was not the body he was waiting to pass through those doors. Tim, was inside the Museum, pretending to peruse the gift shop again to become better acquainted with the location. Glancing up from the pages whenever a flash of color appeared in the corner of his eye, Peter did not have to wait long before the figure he had been waiting for looked both ways and entered MD’s Restaurant and Brewery. ‘ Its about time…’, shoving the newspaper in the trash, Peter made his way across the street beneath the sheet of rain pelting down against the umbrella. Feeling little sparkles soundlessly speckle against his bare skin from the cold moisture in the air, Peter shoved his hands deep into his pocket as the cold sensation sent shivers down his spine.
Walking inside the Restaurant in an uplifted mood to finally be free from the rain, Peter turned to look both ways before reaching his gloved hand backwards to hold the door open for a college-age couple to weasel out of the rain. ‘Thank you’, the boy had kindly stated as his pretty little partner giggled and followed her beau to the ‘hostess’ counter’ to apply for a table. All the while, Peter was glancing about the room attempting to locate the woman he had arranged to meet with fourteen months prior to this little encounter. Spotting Ms/Mrs. Maggie Meyers perusing through the ‘drink’ menu in a booth hidden away in the corner, Peter waved at the hostess before making his way in her direction. Compulsively tugging at the collar of his sweater, Peter nervously glanced both ways before sitting down at the opposite side. As if the ‘men in black’ were going to ‘pop’ out of the shadows at any moment. ‘ She‘s here Tim…’ Smiling his melancholy smile to be as courteous as possible, his mood brightened when she fearfully returned the gesture and set the drink menu down on the polished, ebony, table.
“ When can I see my son?”, said Maggie with a serious expression waxed upon her face. Margaret was not ‘dicking around’ in her fourteen-hour flight to meet with the only man who knew of Frank Meyer’s whereabouts. With very sparse and limited contact over the past three years to even be reassured that these men were not working for the enemy, she had waited -far- longer than any sane mother should have to wait to see her son again. Knowing she could not tackle the D.P.R.D. on her own, the simple idea of seeing her son in the same room had been the fire that fuelled her twelve-month delay in meeting with this man known as: Peter O’Toole. Had she not the wisdom to realize how important it was to ‘wait’ and contact this man as little as possible, she would have been on a flight from Ontario the very hour she received Peter’s letter. The picture; however, had been enough to revive the hope of seeing her child again, and for that she had been extremely patient. But now, having already missed the entirety of Frank’s childhood, Maggie was not going to waste precious time on small talk or useless questions. Seeing the hint of an uncomfortable grimace on Peter’s face, Margaret glared and resisted the urge to push a mental ‘slap’ to get his mouth to open.
“ Tonight.”, Peter averted his gaze towards the rain-stained window facing the Museum. Not surprised that Maggie had taken the initiative, Peter let out a sigh as a waitress waltzed up to the table and asked:
“ Can I get you started with any drinks or an appetizer?”, Peter and Maggie exchanged a glance before Peter began to lift his hand in a ‘no thank you gesture’ as his mouth prepared the verbal decline of: ‘just water, thank you’. However, it was at that moment that Tim Vans walked onto the scene. His leather jacket wet from the falling rain and his blonde locks strewn about his forehead.
“ Vodka on the rocks; please.”, Tim said before passing Maggie a light-hearted smile and sliding into the black, leather, booth besides his friend. Absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the tabletop as the waitress walked away to tend to another table, Tim sent a friendly wink Maggie’s way before flicking his eyes towards peter. Maintaining eye-contact for the briefest of moments. ‘ You didn‘t tell me she was gorgeous Pete.’, Peter’s eyes widened in shock at the comment, and he rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably as he felt Maggie’s piercing stare metaphorically burn his skin. Like a coiled cobra, Maggie soundlessly hissed in displeasure. ‘ I heard that.’ It was Tim’s turn to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably and let out a light-hearted chuckle. It wasn’t that Tim was the type to hit on women or flirt; but, for some reason he had imagined Maggie to be rather homely. Considering her son was not the most handsome of men, he had assumed that his mother would have shared that ‘plain-jane’ genetic trait. Not to say that her son was ugly, of course.
“ You were saying?”, Maggie asked with a syrupy quality to her vocal tone. Just hearing that she would be able to see her son -tonight- was so much better than she could have realistically hoped for, and the enthusiasm was evident in her voice.
“ Every month Dr. Bale takes the children on a field trip of some sort, to try and develop the bond between them. Thanks to Pete here, we discovered that tonight your son is going on a tour inside the Museum, if you want to see him, all you have to do is sign up for the tour yourself.” This plan seemed far too simple, and she expressed that by an ‘Oh really?’ expression.
' Tim here is going to change your appearance so that Dr. Bale won‘t recognize you.', Maggie had heard a lot of whoppers in her day; but with the things she had learned how to do, her sense of what was and was not possible had undergone radical changes in the past twenty three years. Seeing her questioning glance, Tim grinned and pulled a one dollar bill from his pocket and held it up for Maggie to see.
Snapping the paper material as if he was a magician proving that the article in his possession was in-fact a real dollar, Tim channelled the imagine of a hundred dollar bill to overshadow the paper money and create a ‘film’ or ‘aura’ around it similar to a cloaking device. The dollar bill transformed into its centennial multiplication, Tim grinned and tossed the bill onto the table as if it was nothing more than table scraps. Intrigued beyond measure, Maggie picked up the hundred dollar bill and turned it back and forth in the light. Strangely enough, the object felt, smelled, and looked like a hundred dollar bill. Most importantly, it did not dissolve back into its predecessor.
‘ How long does this last?’, thought she, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as she continued to admire the strip of paper under the light of the lantern.
“ That amount usually lasts us up to four days, so you should have no trouble paying for your tour…”, uncomfortable with only talking mentally, as Peter’s lack of telepathy talent left him in the dark to whatever they were discussing, he tried to stir the conversation back to the real world. Guessing simply by reading the expression on their faces and following his instinct, Peter continued to scratch the back of his head as the waitress returned with a plate of potato skins and Tim’s glass of cold Vodka. Swallowing in dismay at seeing the dangerous fluid, Peter felt a hand inwardly grip his stomach.
Ever since discovering he had new abilities, Peter had tried to practice and ‘hone’ his skills. With the majority of his ‘powers’ being activated by ‘touch’, Peter avoided unwanted ‘flashes’ into his brain by wearing gloves nearly everywhere he went and avoiding awkward gestures such as ‘shaking’ someone’s hand. To be perfectly frank, compared to his children, he had almost no psychic ability whatsoever. What he could do wasn’t very strong, and when it was powerful, the strain left his body weakened or drained. When he had snuck into Maxwell Institute two years prior in the disguise of an orderly to ‘touch’ Dr. Bale’s office doorknob, the valuable information had left him with a three-day splitting migraine. All he could do for an entire week was lay in a pitch black room and moan until the pain finally subsided. Just how could a man absorb twelve years of thoughts and emotions from every person to ever touch that doorknob?
Vodka.
For some reason, the fluid heightened psychic ability better than any other alcoholic substance that wasn’t illegal in the United States. So you can imagine the strain on Peter’s face at the idea of his psychically talented friend drinking an entire 12 oz glass of ‘brain juice’. If not for the potential of ‘losing control’ and doing something he would later regret, he did not envy his friend the headache he would have if he overloaded his body. Swallowing uncomfortably, Peter held back a grimace and wished they did not have to resort to addictive substances to enhance their abilities. “ No…Don‘t do it Tim. Don‘t do it, it‘s too risky now…”
“ Do you really need that?”, Peter passed Tim a look that ‘suggested’ to Maggie the possibility that he could have a ‘drinking problem’ in the hopes of embarrassment being a worthy means of keeping Tim from consuming the clear liquid. Tim, knowing his friend’s worrisome tendencies, passed Peter a sarcastic stare and let out another chuckle.
“ I‘m putting my life on the line for free, I think I deserve a drink.”, Not even realizing that he had not bothered to order ‘potato skins’ Tim dragged one cheesy, bacon covered, slice and brought it to his lips. Knowing the extreme pain caused by straining his brain muscles too greatly, Tim ate the potato skin to stall time and keep from having to press his lips to the glass. That pain being enough to end his ‘alcoholism’ days thirteen years ago, Tim was strongly opposed to drinking the fluid unless the situation demanded it. Having had a plan of his own for the past two months to talk to his own daughter, he was not going to risk going into the line of fire unless he knew for sure that his powers were strong enough to take down any signs of attack from the ‘men in black’, or military men disguised as ‘nurses’ shuffling their children around. He was going to steal his Heather back eventually, perhaps even tonight if the opportunity presented itself.
Just as he was thinking that little thought; however, Peter had pulled his left glove off and touched his fingers against Tim’s forehead to try and see what it was his ‘friend’ was planning. Rudely smacking Pete’s hand away, Tim assumed his friend had seen more than he actually had and pushed a thought into his brain to defend himself: ‘ I wont Peter…but I need to know that she‘s okay…’ Convinced by his lie, Peter flared his nostrils a moment before grasping one of the potato skins and bringing it towards his mouth. Turning his chin to look upon Maggie, he had assumed she might feel offended to have been left out of the conversation. Instead, Maggie was staring out the window. Her chin propped up with her hand, and a gentle sigh escaping her lips. Consumed with the dream of being close enough to hold her son once more, Margaret could not keep her gaze from drifting back to the Museum.
Hearing more of the conversation than she wanted to let on, Margaret picked up one of the potato skins she had ‘pushed’ the waitress to deliver for her and silently nibbled upon the succulent morsel. After a long pause, Margaret finally turned her neck and spoke:
“ I‘m sure this hundred dollars could buy me thirty minutes.”, Having snuck her nose into Peter’s mind enough to get the slightest of glimpses through his mental shields, Maggie turned her attention back to the quiet one and gazed at him expectantly. Her statement was a simple question that was disguised to appear ‘factual’ and ‘certain’. ‘How long can I be with him?’, was the question she had really asked, and Tim stared down at his Vodka in uncertainty while Peter answered it for him.
“ Only if you don‘t waste the rest of the money on overpriced souvenirs first.”, Tim had to chuckle at Peter’s comment before bringing the icy cup to his lips and downing a gulp of the nearly invisible fluid. Hearing footsteps on the ground, Tim looked up to find their waitress returning with a tiny notepad bulging out of her trouser pocket.
“ Are you guys ready to order?”, There was an unvoiced, unexpressed, universal nod of agreement between the trio.
“ I would like an order of MD‘s fish and chips with a side of malt vinegar.” The waitress pinned her eyes on Tim, who had eaten here enough times to not have to point at the menu.
“ I want the honey chipotle steak with a garden salad, hold the cranberries.”, all three regular attendees turned their head towards Maggie, who had a determined look fixated upon her face.
“ Vodka on the rocks; please, and make it a triple.”, With three wide eyes staring Maggie in the face, Margaret simply pointed at the ‘Gardenburger’ and asked for a side of ranch dressing to dip her fries into. Normally, this woman rarely ate greasy food, and never drank more than one glass of wine once or twice a year. But, the chances of Dr. Bale recognizing her because Tim’s cloaking ability decided to wear off were too high to fiddle around with. She was going to need to be as strong as possible to have a fighting chance. With a sigh, she looked down at her reflection upon the shiny, black, table and tried not to imagine such a horrible outcome. ‘ This might be the last time I see my child…and he wont even know who I am...’
Unable to push his mind into her mind for some reason unbeknownst to him, for once, Peter wanted to shake Maggie's hand.
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Posted: Thu Feb 10, 2011 2:39 am
|You shut your mouth|
|How d a r e you say|
|I go about things the w r o n g w a y|
|I am a h u m a n and I need to be l o v e d|
|Just like everybody else does| ▂▃▅▆█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▌ Absentmindedly staring out the window, Heath continued to wait for Micheal to come back from inside. Mostly to keep his mind and vision off of the other male friend of hers she purposefully wanted to avoid. Frank. For a reason Heath knew very well, Frank was flustered trying to build up the courage to talk to Serena, and judging by the fact that Serena’s lips moved, he must have asked her something. ‘ He can just bury himself in her arms for all I care.’, Heath thought with a very strong taste of bitterness before softly squeezing Olympia’s hand again. As if to verbalize those words better than speaking them possibly could. When he heard and felt footsteps climbing up the stairs, Heath purposefully looked away from Serena and Frank with the most venomous glare he -tried- not to make. Failing completely, Heath looked out the other side of the bus to contemplate before another bolt of lightning struck, and with it came a torrential downpour of water. As if a dam had broke in heaven…and it was only then that he remembered exactly what Frank had been trying to talk to him about before his brain ‘overloaded’ (or so it seemed) and he changed personalities. The color drained from Heath’s face, and with a shaky smile, he turned his body and strain to look at them sitting in the back of the bus. ‘ Oh cr*p, oh cr*p, oh cr*p! NoOoOooo! Not back there YOU IDIOT.’, at this moment pinning his thought towards Serena’s foolishness to trust Frank, Heath continued to watch and glare in morbid anxiety.
‘ If he couldn‘t even handle talking to me about her, how the f*** is he going to be able to sit next to her or debate holding her hand without…’, Heath swallowed and glared at Frank before hastily turning back around and glaring out the window. Olympia did not deserve to sit next to him while he was acting like this, but if he stared at the pair any longer he was going to flip Frank the bird. No one deserved to see that, especially when it wasn’t ‘Frank’ that Heath was particularly vengeful against. ‘ If…you…do…one…thing…you rat b*stard, I‘ll run over there and…’, Heath was going to muse the word ‘kill’ but he didn’t think he would really be able to do that. Frank was still his friend, somewhere inside there, and he couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than sock him in the face. What are you really mad about? That Serena could be in danger? Or that he really likes her?
The thought metaphorically smacked him in the face, and it took all of Heath’s composure not to shrink down and hide from everyone as if they had heard that accusatory thought as well. Once more mentally quoting his mantra, he kept his eyes closed to concentrate on breathing. ‘ I‘m not gay…I‘m not gay…He--’ Heath leaned his forehead on the glass to think, hearing Olympia’s tone in the background.
“This rain is driving me crazy…well, crazier.”, Heath chuckled at that and nodded, turning his head to stop focusing on whatever his brain ‘wanted’ him to contemplate. Like always, Heath was over exaggerating his actions and thought he was acting crazier than just a watchful eye and a few heated glances.
“ Heh, yeah. ”, Turning his eyes towards the blonde beside him, Heath passed her a smile even though she had her chin upturned towards the ceiling. Glancing up without lifting his chin, Heath stroked his eyes over the chips and dent marks in the ceiling of what had once been a school bus before lowering his eyes back down. Studying Olympia’s face as the bus turned down towards the freeway. Sometimes, he wished they were allowed to bring cd players or music of some sort, because like clockwork classical music began to pour out of the speaker system. Completely unaware of the effect this statement might have, Heath grinned his delightful smile and voiced a small joke to break the uneasy mood.
“ So long as lightning doesn‘t strike the bus, I‘m alright with being out in a storm.”, Heath smiled just as a loud outburst shattered all hopes of avoiding the scene in the back.
“ CAN‘T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?” , breathless from shock, Heath climbed on his knees in the chair and looked behind at Serena and Frank, his eyes searching for signs of foul play. Unable to see anything at all besides their faces was more nerve-wracking than he had anticipated before. Rich’s going to rape her! Do something! DO SOMETHING! Without a thought, Heath squeezed the back of his chair and leaned over it with his back to the driver.
“ HEY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING BACK THERE?”, anger causing the blood to pound in his ears, Heath counted the awkward heartbeats until he saw Serena apologetically look at Frank and whisper some quiet apology. ‘ What?!? Don‘t pretend nothings wrong!’, convinced she was faking, Heath growled under his breath, ignored the bus driver giving him a frantic/worried look and started to get up from the chair. ‘ He‘s not getting off so easily.’, Shaking his head, Heath remembered Olympia just sitting here and wanted to grab her hand when he remembered that he had used both of them to clutch the seat a moment ago to keep from falling over. His hands were no longer clean, and he didn’t have the confidence that she liked him enough not to inwardly spasm if he tried to touch her or give a reassuring gesture. ‘ I‘m sorry about this.’, smiling apologetically, Heath let out a sigh and sank back down in the chair.
“ I‘m sorry about my outburst, I‘m just really worried about Serena…”, not considering the consequences of that statement, Heath waited a moment to hear some sort of reply before the bus reached another stop sign. Getting up then, Heath’s feet were heavy as the grave as he quietly stomped towards the back of the bus and sat in the seat across from Frank and Serena. ‘ Like I‘m gonna let you anywhere near a girl after…’, glaring hatefully, Heath crossed his arms and leaned against the side of the bus as if the bus chair was a couch he was sprawling across of. Mostly sitting in this position so that he could swiftly kick someone if the need arrived. I know it started out that way Heather, but it didn’t stay that way and you know it. So I’m going to ask you again, is it really what happened that your mad about? Blaming the gentle thought on the rain, Heath continued to venomously glare warnings at the pair. But mostly just at Frank, as his eyes softened towards his somewhat friend to try not to offend her after that outburst of his. ‘ She has worse things to worry about than my evil look.’
▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▆▅▃▂ |When you s a y it's gonna happen 'now'|
|When exactly do you m e a n?|
|See I've already waited too long|
|and a l l my h o p e is gone| [Next person to post as permission to skip until they reach the Philadelphia Museum.]
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