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 Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 9:49 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI can't control the things I do.
The year was 1983: A group of random strangers assembled together for what seemed to be a harmless fluke. Usually, advertisements stating: 'Will pay cash for phamaceuticle testing', aren't as bad as they sound; right?
Wrong.
While these fourteen young adults trying to earn extra money for college underwent a simple IV containing new medication things went horribly wrong. Except, they can't remember. Fooled into thinking the events of what transpired on November fifth were a hallucination induced by the drug, these 'kids' finished college, or got married, and continued on with their lives. Fourteen people entered the building, thirteen people left, and no one expected a thing. Except for two people who were not convinced that everything was a hallucination, because they started dating in their third year of college and talked about the 'incident'.
How could two people have the same hallucination?
And how can Nathaniel Woods explain the new things he can do?
Over the years, little things such as objects levitating about the room, or random fires springing to life in Nathaniel and Merideth's daughters crib. Whatever they could do, their child could do it better. Maybe it was because, out of all the guinea pigs looking for quick cash, they were the only two who married each other, maybe it was standard treatment for all the guinea pigs; but, since their child was born a white unmarked van started appearing in their lives. Every time they saw the van, they ran, changed their names and lived new lives. However, in the end, they got what they wanted.
Nathaniel came home one evening to find his wife brutally murdered, and his eight-year-old child Serena missing from the house. Nathaniel's child was not the only one missing from the house. In fact, Serena was the last child stolen from her family. These 'children' raised, tested, and brainwashed, were eventually given out to 'foster' families. All having some form or connection to a goverment job, or those with 'family ties' to people in authority. Unaware of being brainwashed, all these children were deemed 'insane' at their pre-set times and sent to the same place: Maxwell Mental Institution.
Are the 'things' they can do really 'induced' by their medication?
Why do the psychiatrists keep asking if they 'see' things or 'do' anything?
Do all asylumns keep such a close watch on their patients? The truth is going to come out. One way or another.
As these children -now young adults- live out what seems to be half-lived lives inside the 'institute' they can only wonder such questions while dealing with their own petty drama. Completely convinced of the 'disorders' they have, they have no idea that they were 'trained' to be 'weapons' down the road for the goverment. They have no idea that the rediculous dreams they have are tied to something big that the Soviet Union is planning against North America. They only know that they are trapped, with no way to get out.
Inspiration for this roleplay from the song "The World Keeps Spinning " by A Chronic Future. - Which is awesome for this rp, if you are interested.
Please 'Click'.
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Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 10:24 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxThese are Rumple's Rules*
I'll keep things short and sweet for you.
I will -only- accept 'real-life' pictures for your characters. Please! please do not be afraid to use photographs of 'plain' characters or characters that aren't classically beautiful. I do not mind having a few pretty characters in my role-play, but when all of them look stunning and gorgeous, it breaks the realism of the role-play. So please, no 'movie' stars or famous people, unless they are NPCs or not actors the average person would know about. Playing as 'taylor swift' will get you a metaphorical whack from a roll of internet newspaper. xd Plain people need love and have personalities too; but, if you can't play as a 'normal person' because it ruins your 'fantasy' or makes you feel 'unlovable' maybe your too young for this role-play. X3 But if you have a particular 'model' in mind from a site such as: Modelmayhem.com or Deviantart, I am not going to be a 'character nazi' and say: 'pick another one'. I am only suggesting/hoping that you can use 'plain' actors or actresses, but you do not have to go nuts trying to find someone 'just' decent.
Role-playing Guidelines: No stealing my basic plot-line without contacting me first. No being a complete googenflaugin and deciding to brutally slaughter everyone else in the roleplay for no reason. (Only NPCs can 'die' without permission, so don't kill anyone without asking if its okay with me.) ONLY I CAN KILL OFF YOUR CHARACTER! (but I will only do so if you are inactive for at least a week and you never answered my pm. If you had a real life drama, just warn me first, or tell me when you get back. I will gladly allow you to make another character if you were away for too long from personal reasons.) No cursing every other word in every post you do - you'll make yourself sound stupid...really really. *nods*.
As for 'making love' I will do what all PG.13 movies do, and have the scene 'fade out to black'; or otherwise intitled: Skip until later. I am not afraid of that happening in a role-play, to add much needed plot/drama; but, please do not describe it. Here or the Pms. (that personally is a 'couples' thing to me, but its not even allowed on gaia, and I don't want you in trouble).
Make your posts pretty, add a few pictures or song lyrics, etc, because I love it. ( whee ) My only rules in this regard is to not -drown- your post in the decor. I would like to be able to read your post without averting my eyes every few lines like an ADHD child. :3. You see this color? See how you had to 'squint' to read it, yes...please don't use really bright colors -all the time- for your characters. As this role-play is very specific on posting colors, please do not steal another character's posting color for talking or thinking. Burrowing it for decorating your post is a whole 'nother story, so feel free to be creative.
Yes. You must use my profile skeleton. They are hardly profiles, just basic name and age because I believe that the role-plays last longer when the biography or 'traits' are revealed 'during the role-play'. Adds another small element of mystery to the rp.
Please use font sizes 10 or 11. They just look so much better.
Read your posts before you click 'submit'. A lot of errors can be avoided by reading your posts out and seeing how the words flow together.
There's no paragraph size or any posting regulations. Just give us something we can work with. I'm sure we'd all prefer two paragraphs of substance than ten paragraphs of drawing out what would sound better in two. The only reason I don't go nuts about length is because when there is no 'limit' I can 'unleash' my creativity. When I'm really inspired I tend to write 'cut scenes', which can evolve into monster posts. Just have fun! No pressure. I know that sometimes the ony thing your character can do is 'nod' or say 'okay. But draw that out into one paragraph, not three or five. (unless you want to of course) My rule is: write from the heart, have fun, and the length will take care of itself.
I totally don't care what you label the PM you send to me for the character you want to reserve. Anything you want, once I open it, I'll know what it's for anyway. Just know that I only reserve profiles for a day, so try and send in your profile as soon as possible.
Hmm, I think that covers it. I'll add more and bold it if I need to put anything else here.
Well...I tried.
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Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 10:44 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxcharacters *
[img]place image here 400 x 150. Easy to edit on picnik.[/img]
[size=25][b][u][color=white]xxxxxxxxxxx[/color][color=postingcolor]character name[/color][/b][/u][/size]
[size=10][color=white]xxx[/color][b][color=postingcolor]age | gender | posting color[/b][/color][/size]
please include somewhere in the post which character # that you want to play.
 xxxxxxxxxxxMicheal Morrisxxx22 | male | seagreen Micheal Morris has Anorexia. He spends a lot of time trying to outsmart the orderlies into believing he ‘ate’ the amount they ‘want’ him to eat. Why do they insist on shoving food down his throat? The resident artist, he always seems to be doing some kind of art form, writing, drawing, you name it. Anything to keep from having to look in the mirror or think about food. True, at one point in his childhood he wasn’t exactly the skinniest kid; but, who would want to risk going back to that either? Always a quiet, sociable guy, he -knows- Heather Vans is a girl no matter how hard she tries to hide it. Perhaps he notices more than he should.
Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxSerena Woodsxxx20 | female | cornflowerblueSerena Woods has borderline personality disorder. She simply sees everything in ‘black and white’. Some days she thinks her friends are the greatest people in the world, and on other days they are the very demons sent to make her life a living hell. All that can change in a heartbeat; but, for the most part she has her good and bad days. In stressful situations, her brain dissociates like being on ‘autopilot’ and she’ll end up places with no memory of walking there or (carried there). Taking medication to keep from wanting to tear at old scar wounds or ‘self-mutilate’. She is really good friends with Olympia and Franklin; but, her best friend is Micheal Morris. Only lately, she realized that she might be feeling much more than friendship for him, and she isn’t sure how long she can wait before confessing those feelings.
Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxHeather Vansxxx21 | female | darkkhaki Heather Vans has gender displacement disorder, and has been ‘mentally’ a boy since she was four or five years old. Adamant that she isn’t really a woman, she wraps duct tape around her breasts and refuses any and all make-up. ‘Her’ parents put her in Maxwell Institute when she was sixteen years old. Having made friends with Franklin Meyers (or at least one or two of his personalities), it was a complete surprise to her when he put the moves on ‘him’. One thing led to another, and now Heather has no idea what to do, or what to feel about what happened. To make matters worse, Franklin has no memory of the event, because he has not yet switched back from another major personality. Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxAngelo Sal de Luca xxx22 | male | darkvioletAngelo Sal de Luca has schizophrenia. Having ‘seen’ and ‘heard’ things no one else can hear since his childhood, Angelo will sometimes have periods where he mumbles nonsense or ‘zones-out’ from reality. Medication helps; but, lately it seems like the ‘pills’ aren’t working, and he knows -something- is up with the doctors at Maxwell Institute. Maybe he is just paranoid, but he doesn’t think so. Not with what the ‘voices’ are saying. Perhaps out of sheer boredom, Angelo has been making a nuisance of things to mess with Olympia's obsessive compulsions. But, maybe that’s because it’s the only way to get her attention?Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxFranklin Meyers xxx21 | male | crimson Franklin Meyers has had Dissociative Identity Disorder (or multiple personality disorder) since he was a little boy. Having undergone severe trauma or abuse he underwent a severe mental collapse before the authorities finally found him and returned him home safely. All that is known, is that since that unhappy affair, Franklin Meyers has switched off and on between three major personalities, not counting the minor roles his mind created for short-term use. Close friends with both Heather Vans and Serena Woods, Franklin has had his eye on Serena for a while now. Completely unaware that he slept with Heather while he was in another personality, he wonders why ‘he’ has been acting so strange around him lately. Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxOlympia Alorah McGuinness xxx19 | girlie | #33A1C9 Olympia Alorah McGuinness has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Convinced that she is simply a ‘neat freak’, life simple cannot be stress free while certain things are in disarray. Simple things from brushing her teeth or combing her hair the right amount of times can ruin her day if done incorrectly, and without her handy dandy medication, her ‘paranoia’ grows worse. Which is why Angelo Sal de Luca drives her up the wall, in a negative way. Sometimes it seems like he goes out of his way to mess things up for her, and its getting hard to be courteous and patient when his antics grow worse everyday.Open/Reserved/Taken xxxxxxxxxxxDr. Balexxx53 | male | #7e482d xxxxxxxxxxx(the real) Tim Vansxxx47 | male | chocolate xxxxxxxxxxxMaggie Meyersxxx44 | female | tomato xxxxxxxxxxxPeter Morrisxxx45 | male | #2d4e41
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Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 10:55 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxInfo/Time/Etc
Characters:::
Character one - taken by xXRumpleteazerXx
character two - Reserved by Ze Queen of Bleu
character three - taken by xXRumpleteazerXx
character four - taken by X x __ compos M E N T i S
character five - taken by Vanilla Nerd
character six - taken by Poisonous Perfume
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯
[ ]Sunny/clear skies, [ ]Cloudy, [X]Thunderstorm, [ ]rain, [ ]snow, [ ]blizzard.
[ ]Morning, [ ]Noon, [ ]Afternoon, [X]Dusk, [ ]Evening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Couples/Family ties revealed in the rp.None yet...Currant happenings~ (Check here every so often for updates.).Nothing yet...Etc~ .Nothing yet...Setting:::
Will update from time to time as the setting changes.
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 5:03 pm
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx*BANG* And they're off!5:35 pm: Twenty five minutes until the group leaves for a field trip.
All the 'patients' contained in the: West Wing, have behaved decently enough to warrant attending the 'trip'. Usually these 'monthy' visits to the outside world are short and consist of attending a movie, or going bowling; but hey, at least its not 'Chucky Cheese' or 'Micky' D's'. While Heath and Olympia are in their rooms getting ready for the 'outing', others have other things on their mind. For example, Micheal was threatened to be confined in solitary if he didn't eat his dinner, so he is outside in the thunderstorm running to burn off the calories. Outside under a handy-dandy umbrella is: Serena, worried about her friend running outside in a thunderstorm. As much as Franklin sympathizes with Serena's concern, he's only under the unbrella to try and build up the nerve to ask her out...at least, he was until -five- minutes ago, when a 'silent' personality decided to take over named [insert name].
And Angelo...well...Angelo isn't quite sure where he's going at the time being, and has been wandering about the corridoors with a blank expression on his face mumbling incoherantly. Completely unaware that his actions are being monitered in the security camera. He -knows- something is up.
The only thing different about this month's field trip is that Dr. Bale forgot to mention where they were going tonight. Its not the first time the man neglected to disclose such information; but, the suspicion of going to a 'roller rink' seems highly unlikely (which is what Heath thought 'he' heard the man mention the possibility at last month's meeting). Perhaps the thunderstorm is not the only thing that the patients in the West Wing have to worry about...
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 6:26 pm
 S E R E N A ♦ W O O D S I HATE YOU, DON'T LEAVE ME TO MYSELF.
YOU'RE PERFECT, NOW CHANGE, BE SOMEONE ELSE. xxxxxxxxxxxx prescribed pills to offset the {s h a k e s} to offset the pills.SOBBING AND SUFFERING, YEAH AND ALL THE WHILE I'M CURSING YOU. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxI'M CURSING ME.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxMY INSANITY. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 
Serena watched as her mother grew very nervous. This was something that was not uncommon to see whenever the dreaded "white van" would show up. Her parents did not talk to her a lot about what the van was, but she knew that whenever it was spotted, it was bad news. It meant that once again they needed to relocate. Her mother had just spotted the van a few blocks down from their current residence. Serena watched as her mother frantically reached for the phone to place a call to Serena's father. "Nathaniel, please. You need to come home right away. The van... it's just down the street. We need to leave and get Serena out of here," Meredith spoke in a worried tone, her hands shaking the very phone it was holding.
What happened next, Serena had a hard time remembering; her brain needing to strain in order to make the pictures in her mind form together to make a story. She did not remember ever seeing her father return home before the men from the white van came into their residence. Immediately the men targeting Meredith first. Serena remembered screaming at them to stop; bellowing out words from the top of her lungs, hoping that her shrieks would attract the attention of someone from the outside who might be able to help with the situation. "Someone! Please help!! Please!"
The next thing she could remember was being thrown into the back of the white van; kicking and screaming. She remembered wondering why no one saw what was transpiring and tried to help. In the midst of these memories, Serena could also see flashes of her mother; of her lifeless body lying there on the floor. Almost as soon as the image would enter her brain, she would instinctively block it out; it being much too painful to remember. Often the memory would be too painful that she would completely lose periods of time, as if her brain was shutting down as a coping mechanism so that she wouldn't need to deal with the horrific details of what she had witnessed. In all actuality, Serena had witnessed the murder of her mother, but her brain was not willing to allow that memory to surface, probably for the better.
Now, her she was at Maxwell Mental Institution. They had deemed her to be insane, to be not normal. Serena was never completely sure why she needed to be in a place such as this. She did not feel the need to be in a place that regulated every single movement that she made. They controlled when she slept, when she eat, when she took the medications that she did not even want to be taking in the first place. I'm not crazy, I don't need these medications.
Currently, she was standing out in a thunderstorm, standing under an umbrella that looked as if it was going to start leaking at any moment. She hated thunderstorms with a passion - in fact, they terrified her most of the time. Of course, this time she needed to be out there. Michael was out there running to exercise off what they had forced him to eat. Serena's heart went out to him. She herself had dabbled in disordered thoughts regarding eating, but much like everything else in her world, it didn't last long. She was always changing her mind about every little thing, all of the time. Perhaps beyond just understanding how he was feeling, she also wanted to show him that she would be there for him no matter what. It was clear that she had feelings for him; at least it was clear to herself. At least she wasn't outside alone - Franklin had decided to accompany her, probably because he knew that she wasn't a fan of thunderstorms.
"Michael! You're going to run yourself into the ground, please be careful!" she called out to him before turning to face Franklin, "I wish he wasn't so worried about his weight...."
Obnoxious Overdosing Crisis ﹛ click the image of "broken" pills for Serena's themesong. ﹜
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 6:46 pm
  Angelo had long since been the dark-haired, dark-eyed little boy his mother had once loved so. He was diagnosed with Schizophrenia at a remarkably young age, fourteen. It was almost unheard of, someone so young being diagnosed with such a damaging mental disease. He was diagnosed with undifferentiated sub-type, and by the rule of thirds for every one of him there would be two with some hope. Some people that might recover, some that still get to see the rest of the world from time to time. But Angelo? He would never recover. So said the rule of thirds.
Angelo's eyes were set forward, cold and unfeeling. His posture was straighter than usual, he stood perfectly straight, his motions were fluid, natural, but almost robotic. As though he were a marionette, and it was a master puppeteer pulling his strings. Nurses, other patients, doctors, and even the security personal stepped easily out of his way, not making eye contact or making any attempt to rouse him from his almost catatonic state. It was all too familiar, too routine for anyone to bother themselves over. No one was perfect.
Angelo's lips moved slowly, parting only slightly to deliver a jumble of confused words and fragmented sentences into the waiting, but impatient, air. Words like "watching" and "soon" and "time" jumbled with articles and verbs, things they ought not to be paired with. Things that sounded almost foreign. Sometimes there were things that were foreign, words in Italian, fragmented thoughts, none of them relating much to anything but a trained ear. But, still, no one had any eyes in Angelo's mind. Perhaps, if he had the choice, that would not be the way that he might've preferred it.
Angelo's steps were well measured, each equally distanced from the next, each silent in his hospital shoes, the ones with rubber soles. They were leaving soon, but he didn't seem to know, or care. Maybe he was beyond knowing anything about the world that physically anchored him. Maybe he'd passed that point long ago, and only came for brief visits. Medication used to help, but that was a time long ago. No amount of little white or blue pills could drag him back to reality, not after such a long stay in whatever dream world to which he seemed to belong.
Finally, someone stopped. Garbed in a calming blue, it was a nurse, holding a clipboard. She was blond, her eyes were a dark green. The name tag read, well-- it didn't matter what it read. They were all clones of one another, each walking in the other's shoes, because in reality, even the skewed reality in which Angel lived, they were interchangeable. One in the same. She stopped, and took Angelo's elbow in her hand, pulling him to a gentle stop. Maybe she was new, maybe that was why she cared.
"Angelo?" She checked her clipboard, looking up awkwardly for the nearest room number, getting her bearings. West Wing. And besides the visitors, those that didn't belong but were simply passing through, it was nearly empty. Today was road trip day. Maybe it was because of his "paranoid schizophrenia" as the doctors said it, Angelo had stressed over the trip, as he had with every trip, since it had been announced. No amount of bowling or films could make up for the stress these deviations from the normal schedule brought him. "Angelo, it's almost time to go. Are you ready?"
"Ready." Angelo echoed softly, though whether it was a gut reaction that a question needed a response, or a real answer couldn't have been told. He laughed quietly, it was a toneless laugh. Going through the motions. These were the signs of a disturbed mind. The nurse seemed convinced, she shook Angelo lightly by the elbow, looking impatiently at her opposite wrist, where a small face told her that she was running out of time. Angel blinked hard, multiple times, and gazed blankly down the hall, as if searching for something that had once been there. "I, uh--"
He put the back of his palm to his head, blinking as if to clear his mind. "Not a lot of time for that." The nurse was impatient, it was easy to read, as well. She was a naturally nervous type, it was all too obvious. "I said, are you ready?" She asked him again, as if he were supposed to have heard, or even remembered it before. As if his response prior had meant a damned thing. The woman was not only impatient, and rude, she was ignorant as well.
"Ready for what?" Angelo responded, he sounded puzzled even as he removed his hand from his head and looked at her. It wasn't hard to imagine, maybe it wouldn't even have to be imagined, a certain amount of horror in his face. Angelo had always been suspicious, of everyone. Perhaps that was the reason that he hadn't made many friends during his stay here, or maybe it was the fact that people have little desire to mingle with those living, even if only in their head, some million odd miles away.
"The trip!" The nurse responded, irritation colored her voice, and Angelo pulled his elbow away, as if in fear that that anger might somehow spread to him. Only in his mind. Perhaps she had given up. She was a nurse, after all, not a babysitter--though in a place like this, the roles were interchangeable, and she walked off at a brisk pace. As if she had found something better to occupy her time. Outside, it was raining. Streaks of water falling from the sky as if the clouds were shedding tears, there was plenty for the heavens to cry about.
There were many a figure out in the rain. Three, at least, and only two crowded under an umbrella, the other jogging, or something. Angelo knew them by name, though it had taken a long time even to achieve that. Michael, jogging. Franklin and Serena under the umbrella. The man beside him shook his head with disapproval. Angelo could only agree silently, but knew that the man already knew his opinion. The man was impossible to describe. He was tall, impossibly tall, and wide in the shoulders. He carried the air of authority, but past his shape he had no distinguishing features. Angelo could not name his skin color, the shape or color of his eyes, and when the man spoke, Angelo couldn't describe his voice.
"Devo andare." Angelo seemed reluctant, as if the words would only solidify their meaning. It was all matter-of-factly, as if they were swapping business cards. Angelo kept his eyes on the window, perhaps thinking that a glance at the man would prove he wasn't there. And it was better if he was there. He couldn't say why. Maybe it was, even so, a factitious assumption. Perhaps things were worse when he was there, but Angel had been too busy to notice.
There was no sound, though the man pushed his hands into his pockets. He withdrew a thin cigarette, and lit it with the lighter he pulled from the other pocket. The smoke made it only several inches past the lit tip before dissipating into thin air. It should've been unbelievable, but Angel was all too able to believe it. "So." It was simple, terse. Maybe it had double meaning. Two languages, two meanings, maybe both implied. Angelo would've killed to smell the smoke drifting up from the cigarette, the scent of something familiar. But he could not. Reluctantly, knowing that he had to but wishing otherwise, Angelo turned to look over his shoulder at the man, only to find him gone. Angel was unsurprised, even as he trudged in the direction of his room to gather a jacket for the unwanted trip.
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 7:06 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
47, 48, 49—Olympia Alorah McGuinness had been brushing her hair—again—when a reverberating clap of thunder startled her and knocked the number of times she’d tugged her brush through her cascading locks straight out of her mind. She sat there for a handful of heartbeats, regarding herself solemnly in the mirror, and tried her hardest to keep from slamming her brush down on the table and flying into a tantrum. Regardless of her efforts, however, she noticed the base of her neck contracting and relaxing as her breath quickened. She clenched her jaw and slipped her eyes shut, trying to soothe her frustrated breath. After a moment, she reopened her cotton-candy blue eyes and lowered her hand gingerly until her hairbrush made contact with the tabletop. She released it grudgingly and let her now-free hand flutter down to rest on her lap. She was still for a moment, examining her reflection. Her hair—a pile of thick gold as soft as cashmere—was neat and better than passable. It framed her face sweetly and complimented her pearly, lightly freckled skin. She pursed her full lips, her eyes impulsively drifting down towards her hairbrush. With little more than a small sound of discontent, Olympia snatched the brush up and started over. 1, 2, 3.
As she brushed, the blond patient let her eyes wander about her room before letting them come to rest on the slick windows. The rain soothed her ruffled nerves, but only slightly. She supposed taking her medication would help a little or even slinking out of her room and finding her friends. After she was done, of course. 49, 50, 51, 52. She paused, meeting her own eyes in the reflective glass before lowering her head and proceeding to redo her part. 55, 56, 57. And then she was at peace. It was fixed. She placed her hairbrush delicately on her vanity’s surface and stood from her seat, smoothing out her dress with the palms of her hands. She stood there for a moment, her eyes glued to the hairbrush laying slightly askew on her vanity, willing herself to keep walking towards the door.
She did this all the time, not just with the hairbrush. She liked challenging herself, seeing how much she could resist her own compulsions. It was torture. Having things out of place made her appallingly anxious and usually put her in a foul mood. Her eyes darted towards the rain and back to the brush. On such a dreary evening like this, when the rain would inevitably chill the air and make her crabby anyway, there was no point in plunging herself into a bad mood if it could be avoided. Olympia lunged forward from her position and slipped her brush into its drawer. She shut it with a satisfying—and guilty—click.
Olympia slipped out of her room, pulling her cardigan closer, as if its closeness would drastically help ward off the wet cold. Her door clicked shut behind her, sealing off the immaculately clean and organized room that had been her home for longer than she could remember. She made her way slowly towards the meeting spot, her slim feet hardly making a sound against the inhospitable floors of the Institution. If she’d been a different girl, she may have hummed a slow, little tune as she made her way down the corridor. But, being the girl she was, Olympia kept her silence
She’d just begun to yearn for her friends when a familiar, dark-haired figure entered her line of vision. Oh, god. Olympia forced a tight, polite smile onto her lips as she moved to pass the schizophrenic boy. And then an unfortunate thought occurred to her and Olympia found her pace slowing. “You going on the trip?” She inquired, not quite stopping her stride, but not quite scurrying away, either. The efforts it took for her to keep her tone neutral and relatively friendly were poorly concealed. As if to apologize--though she'd die before actually doing so--Olympia forced a bit of warmth into her smile, as if the subtle curve of her lips would increase her chances of forgiveness.
Why she even cared about whether or not he acknowledged her rudeness was beyond her. The boy had been near insufferable recently and she’d been doing her best to avoid interacting with him. And yet, here she was, awaiting both his reply and faux forgiveness with a knot of discomfort lodged in her throat. Her eyes the colors of robin eggs darted down the hall, towards her destination, before reluctantly returning to her companion’s face. She’d come to a full stop at that point and occupied her suddenly fidgety hands with hugging her arms, as if against a chill. But she didn’t feel as though she had the right to complain about the situation—even to herself—when she was the one guilty of trying to catch Angelo’s attention and obtain a response. She supposed it didn’t matter if he went on the outing or not. If worst came to worst, she could always track down Serena and hope she didn’t cross paths with the dark-haired boy for the duration of their trip.
Olympia chewed the inside of cheek absently as she suffered through her social obligations to the boy. Now that she’d come to reason, her assumed air of detached, yet pleasant friendliness was almost seamless. She wondered if he noticed and quickly doubted he cared.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
OutOfCharacter ❝Eeek. Will edit. Just tossing this up C: Sorry it's a little 'meh'. Wanted to get it up as soon as possible*.
Top picture is a link to song.
*Don't be a pervert. You know what I mean.
edited C; ❞
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 7:13 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|
▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶▶ " Michael! You're going to run yourself into the ground, please be careful!", Michael's face tightened in an irritated grumble. ' Run into the ground? Pfft.', Mike sarcastically laughed; but, it was probably true. He had been running outside for the past thirty minutes non-stop, and the pain in his muscles was almost too much to bear. The strain was having a toll on his clearity, as a splitting headache kept stabbing all over his body from a failure to stop long enough to properly breathe. ' I can't stop -now-. I havn't run enough.' That probably wasn't true, but he wasn't going to give himself a break so easily.
However, as irony would have it, Michael's right foot fumbled on a stone and with his body flailing like a fish out of water, Michael collapsed onto the ground. It didn't take a genius to know he had fallen in a large muddy puddle, the 'slosh' texture seeping through his t-shirt was evidence enough. Still, Michael lifted his muddy arms from the english quicksand and looked down at his body. ' Aww cr*p.', ignoring how exausted he was until this moment, Michael found it hard to keep holding himself up in the 'push-up' posture. Lay down! His body was screaming, and laying down in the mud and breathing air into his crying lungs sounded like the best idea he had in ten minutes. Pride aside, Michael did. ' I'm just going to take a shower anyway...The rain will wash me off.' Just then, a 'legitimate' reason to -stop- running popped into his brain, and Michael was wise enough to comply.
' I need to shower for the 'outing', or they'll leave without me.', his arm muscles twitching and shaking in the effort, Michael had to force himself to push his body out of the miry pit. Putting his weight on his right leg, Michael was distracted by a sharp pain coursing through nearly every muscle in his body. It had been far too long since he exercised to debate running for so very long without working up to it first. Ignoring the potential bruise on his knee, as it was covered in mud at the moment anyway, Michael walked towards the building with a peeved expression on his face. 'Huffing' his breath out of his flared nostrils in coy aggression as if it could deflect any: 'I told you so' comment he might hear from Frank or Serena. Walking at an irregular pace from fumbling on his ankle, Michael's facial muscles continued to remain taut as he walked up to Frank and Serena. His body covered in mud and his clothes -no doubt- ridden with grass stains.
Michael expected to hear some sort of 'comment', and raised a threatening eyebrow in irritated anticipation. ' Come on, get your jokes out now while its funny.', not as irritable or 'testy' as he appeared with his good friends, the man let out a sigh and debated crossing his arms.
◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄◄ |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: Sun Jan 30, 2011 7:39 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.
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃
It had taken Frank so much courage to stand beside Serena and try to speak to her. But he knew all he could utter was a few 'Uh Huh's and grunts to agree. He pushed his brown, thick framed glasses up his nose and noticed there were a few droplets on the lenses. The umbrella he stood under with Serena was probably meant only for one person, but she asked him to hold it so he did. He took glances at her and watched her, all her attention was on the rain. Or so he thought.
"Michael! You're going to run yourself into the ground, please be careful!"
He sighed when he looked out and realized that Michael was running, probably running off another forced meal. Frank sighed quietly, knowing that Serena would never look at him with the same worry in her eyes. His lips finally parted and the air in his lungs filled it to prepare for the next phrase to fall from his lips. But suddenly he felt like someone was holding him back and his lips pressed together firmly. Frank's eyes fell closed, his mind drifted into fantasy and dreams. Billy opened his eyes and pulled the glasses from his face to tuck it into the collar of his shirt.
"I wish he wasn't worried about his weight..."
Billy looked towards Serena and shrugged. His free hand fell into the pocket of his green sweatshirt. He noticed that his jeans were awfully tight, he remembered that Frank loved to wear tighter jeans. Billy figured it was just to show off his a** or something to that effect. But he adjusted uncomfortably and watched Michael run, trip, and fall into the muddy water. Billy couldn't help but quietly giggle, it was like a cartoon, when the stupid dog slipped on a banana peel. But then Michael got up, he seemed angry. Billy pulled his hood up and over his head to hide. There was no way he was going to talk, no way, no how. He never talked, in fact, Billy could not talk.
Michael approached them, holding himself as if waiting for an insult. Billy shook his head shrugged and dropped his head forward. His body spoke for himself: 'I'm not here. I'm not here. You can't see me. I'm not here.'
ooc: Sorry it's so short... I just wanted to post. And I'm kinda tired. Sorry. Not really in a good mood. /:
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Posted: Sun Jan 30, 2011 9:56 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| ▂▃▅▆█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▌ 
Completely out of character, Heath had stayed inside his room for almost the entire day. Except for venturing outside for meals, bathroom breaks, or quick visits to the 'computer lab', Heath had entombed himself within his private quarter. Staring down upon the blank page of a sketch pad, a strange uncomfortable sensation continued to claw at his chest. ‘write something’, the blank page beckoned; but, Heath had been unable to answer. For three hours, Heath had been unable to write, draw, or scribble anything on that irritating sketch pad. Heath wanted to write something, the blank page continued to command him to get his thoughts out of his head, but for once Heath couldn’t do it. Never being prone to journaling his ‘feelings’ like Micheal could do, Heath thought that the entire concept of writing down ‘feelings’ was stupid.
Laying flat atop of an iron-framed twin-bed, Heath was using his crossed arms as a pillow to prop up his chin. His hair sprawled lazily about his face. The said hair tickling his skin, Heath blew upwards to feebly try to push the hair away from his face. However, like every time before, the hair fell down in precisely the same place as it had the last time he blew upwards. The tickling starting to become unbearable, it was either move from his spot and tie back his hair or cut if off and get in big trouble. Sucking on his lip in thought, Heath decided to just keep ignoring the tickling and think about what to write on that stupid sketch pad. It wasn’t that he wanted to, but with what had happened with ‘Richard’. ‘ Urrmmm…’, Heath irritatingly grumbled, knowing that something -had- to be said to ‘Frank’ or his ‘therapist’ Dr. Mina Sculley. Heath averted his gaze, staring once more at the white-washed wall.‘ Just what I need. Them knowing about what happened.’. Out of everything, that was what Heath feared the most. He had thought about a great number of conclusions in his head to explain why he didn’t shout for help or tell the ‘authorities’ about that night, and none of them were favourable.
“ I am not gay.”, Heath repeated like a mantra, sickened at the sheer thought of it being true. ‘ I can‘t be…’, Heath was mortally engrossed in the subject, at the ‘hint’ even crossing his mind. All his therapists told him what gender he was; but, he wasn’t buying it. Sure, he had a feminine body, but it wasn’t just a ‘body’ thing. That wasn’t the only factor that defined your ‘gender’. ‘ They wont make me swallow their b*llsh*t, not -now-…not f***ing ever.’, just then coming up with the ‘perfect’ thing to say, Heath sprawled up from his position with a vengeance to grab the ‘extra bold’ sharpie pen from atop the pine-wood desk. Stomping back to the bed, Heath just plopped atop of it and hatefully sprawled the words: ‘If you tell -anyone- about that night, I’ll ******** knife you in your sleep.’ Heath smiled so big a smirk from re-reading the words in his head that he almost scribbled a little ‘heart’ at the end. Widening his eyes in horror at what he had almost done, Heath crossed the ‘shape’ out and slammed the pen on the floor before trapping his head within his hands. Distraught.
‘ My God! What the f*** is happening to me?’, shaking his head violently, Heath randomly looked up at the clock to discover the hour being later than he had imagined. ‘ Oh Cr*p!’, Hopping off of the bed, Heath scurried to his dresser and slid open his pants drawer. Pulling out a pair of baggy light-blue jeans and a white mens T-shirt, Heath pulled a roll of duct-tape from under his socks and proceeded to get ready for the outing.
Sliding a tribal-surfer-themed necklace that he had purchased from the men’s department of Wal-Mart over his neck, he put on a similar bracelet before leading the room to go to the bathroom. Not unsurprising, very few rooms had private bathrooms, so they mostly had to share the ones in the hallway. Not even thinking about it, Heath stolled inside the mens room and studied his reflection in the mirror. Thanks to the duct tape, there were no embarrassing lumps or ‘peaks’ poking out of his shirt. He couldn’t completely hide what he had, but for the most part they were gone. ‘ The nightmares over.’Heath could breathe easy and ignore the tightening pain. Catching his reflection in the mirror, images of that night flashed through his mind. Every nerve in his body tightened in a horrific cringe, and Heath gritted his teeth before vomiting in the nearby sink. ‘ I…am…not…gay.’ Just then, another thought pushed into his brain, and distracted him from mentally quoting his mantra.
Do you think he would like it if you stopped taping your chest?
The utter thought of wearing a bra or putting on make-up to appeal to the same gender was so disgusting that Heath felt physically sick again. Mostly because, for a split second, he had considered the matter. That was something Heath was not going to forgive himself for. ‘ I am -not- dollying myself up like a drag queen.’ Washing his mouth out with water, Heath was about to dry his face when the door opened and an orderly poked his head in the door to give Heath a peculiar look. ’What are you doing in here?’ his face seemed to say, and Heath pierced him with an irritable glare. ‘ Get the hell out.’Too nauseated to debate running into a stall to keep from being dragged out, Heath reluctantly complied and left the bathroom. Gruffly shoving his shoulder into ‘Daniel’s’ side, Heath stormed down the hallway to the ‘tv room’ where everyone was to assemble for the ‘field trip’
However, on the way there, he turned the corner to discover Angelo and Olympia in conversation. ‘ Well this day is certainly perking up.’, His stride soothing to a casual strut; having forgotten all his prior thoughts of the day, Heath walked up beside the pair and smacked his fist into Angelo’s arm. Ghetto style. Nodding a greeting, since saying ‘sup’ was just too stupid to do with someone who wasn’t your ‘homeboy’, Heath turned his attention to the beautiful blonde standing nearby. Out of all the girls here, and the pickings were -slim- if you didn’t consider nurses, Heath certainly had a soft spot for this one. Smirking in such a way that would make his ‘meaning’ unmistakable, Heath propped an elbow against a nearby counter and winked.
“ Want to be my partner? For the field trip, I mean.”
▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌█▌▆▅▃▂ |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| [Muhahaha X3 Lol! That was funny to write. Kept cracking up. Keep clicking around, you'll find 'his' themesong. ;3]
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Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 5:12 am
And the trip. He couldn't decipher any large amount of words in the mass of coaxing whispers, but he knew what they were all speaking of. The outing. There was danger outside these walls, but sometimes Angelo managed to tire of hearing about it. Didn't he notice, though, that Doctor Bale had failed to mention their destination? It was something that had never happened before, and the voices urged that it was no coincidence. Angelo was always expected to listen to the voices, and to agree with whatever lies they might spew.
But paranoia cost more energy than it seemed to. And suspicions earned no friends. Though, speaking of friends, Angelo's spirits were immediately lifted by the sight of a particular blond female coming down the hall. Olympia was obviously not all too glad to see him, and what a dismaying thought. But, to be fair, she had good reason. Angelo had, for a long time, been aggravating her OCD. It was a good way to keep entertained, to take his mind off of the voices and their constant pleading not to take his pills, and not to eat the hospital food.
She forced a tight-lipped smile, and hardly gave him pause, but inquired as to whether or not he was accompanying them on the trip. What an awful topic. Though, Angelo doubted that he had a choice. The West Wing was going on field trip, not The West Wing minus Angelo de Luca. Courtesy of the various biased factors, Angelo could talk on hours about how the trip was to a slaughter house, the way in which they would be herded off of the bus-- but he didn't. Instead, he offered her the very best of his arsenal of smiles.
"Of course." Was his response, though if the rain didn't let up he doubted that there would even be a trip. Angelo was just about to inquire something of Olympia when Heather intruded. She really did look like a he, though the strain was obvious. There were certain feminine qualities in her face and posture that couldn't be erased by duct tape, and slang, but Angelo was not one to notice beyond mild curiosity. For the sake of clearing up confusion, Heather was referred to as Heath, she was he. It was only the therapists that disagreed.
Heath bumped his fist into Angelo's shoulder, a clearly unwanted gesture that Angel only tolerated because he was taught, at a young age, about respecting those that he didn't particularly care for. Heath then obnoxiously propped himself up against the wall and proceeded to unsubtly waggle his eyebrows at Olympia. Something Angelo found very difficult not to laugh at, the appearance of it was ridiculous, but such must be expected from a psychiatric ward. "Want to be my partner? For the field trip, I mean." How transparent could Heath have been?
Angelo's annoyance was purely due to the brusque nature of it all, but he found something to better hold his attention. The upcoming outing. He returned his gaze to the hall. As a relatively permanent resident of the ward, like the rest of his wing-mates, Angelo had a room with a single bed, though that was questionably due to the possibility of outbursts. Angel was good at keeping his temper under lock and key, though. "Ciao." Angelo offered his two companions a joking little salute, before stepping past Olympia and finishing off the short walk to his room.
His room was neat, carefully organized and dazzlingly clean. Angelo remedied this by, while pulling out his jacket, letting the tower of folded attire collapse into itself. He shrugged into the jacket, even while coming his fingers through his mildly unmanageable hair. They were to meet in the television room for the rest of the group to show up before they could shove off to their unknown destination. The voices pleading that he stop, maybe get himself in trouble to avoid the outing, Angelo strapped on his watch and headed back out into the hall.
The room in which they were to wait was near, and Angelo seemed to have arrived there before most of the others, which made good sense, considering that most of them had been outside wading through the mud. A silly thing to do just before an outing. Maybe Angelo would've appeased the voices and walked into the cafeteria and knocked over some semi-catatonic patient, if not for the fact that the walls seemed to be closing in, and he longed to breath fresh air. Not the air outside of the hospital, no that was easily accessible, but air as far from the hospital as they would allow him.
Angelo plopped himself down in an armchair, allowing his gaze to fall over the relatively plain room. The television was on fire, big tongues of flames flying upward from its plastic frame, which was very rapidly melting. Smoke rose off of the flames in thick plumes, but there was no pop from the fire. On the screen, there were ant races, rapidly moving dots of black and white. There was no hiss from the speakers. The room was silent, and Angelo swore he could start to smell smoke.
[OOC: asd;flkj. Crap post, but I didn't want to hold anyone up.]
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X x __ compos M E N T i S Captain
Quotable Conversationalist
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Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 8:21 pm
I don't condone self injury, but this post is going to have a "triggering" scene in it. I always air on the side of caution and assume that perhaps SOMEONE reading this might be a self-harmer, and I would not want to make anyone in an uncomfortable place. So I'm going to put this obnoxious red warning just in case. Love you all, wouldn't want to inadvertently hurt anyone. 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 watched as Michael continued to drive himself into the ground with his exercising. She was inwardly thankful that during her brief stint of an eating disorder she had never had to do something so extreme as this. Her heart sank when he collapsed into a gigantic puddle of mud, and then appeared to try to hold himself up. Probably to burn more calories. With that Serena stepped out from underneath the umbrella that Franklin was holding for her so that she could go over to her friend and see if he was okay. Before she even managed to make two steps in the rainy weather outside of the umbrella, Michael was already standing right next to both she and Franklin.
"Did you hurt your ankle?" Serena questioned, taking note of the obvious limp in his step, "Please be more careful. Here, let me help you inside. I think we both need some cleaning up before the trip." Without waiting for an answer, Serena flung her arm over Michael's shoulder so that she could help him better balance on his injured ankle. She wasn't sure why she was paying so much attention to "taking care" of him, even though this should be something that she was used to now. Sure, Michael was her best friend, but even still. Serena was currently seeing him as perfect, flawless as if there was nothing on earth he could do wrong. She idolized him. She hated the staff for forcing him to eat, and on some occasions, when they weren't looking she would take food off of his plate for him so that he wouldn't have to eat it, despite knowing how unhealthy it was for her to enable his disorder. She didn't care. She wanted to do whatever she could to make things better for such a perfect being. Her sole purpose was to make sure that he realized just how much she cared about her friend. Before she was able to get him anywhere near the entrance of the building, the memories flashed through her mind. Seeing her mother lying on the ground. Crying. Screaming. The white van.
"Frank, please give Michael a hand inside for me," Serena stated, almost in a demanding tone as she rushed inside of the institute. She needed to be in her room right now. She needed to be alone. She needed to find ten seconds of privacy. Upon arrival to her room in the institution, it was only mere seconds before one of the nurses entered to check and see if she was ready for the "trip". "I just need to change. I promise I'll be right out, I'll be really quick."
Serena tried to maintain as much calm in her voice as she could, despite the fact that she was panicking. Whenever her memories surfaced, she wasn't able to handle them. As much as she wanted to know exactly what happened that day, she didn't think that it was possible for her brain to handle something far too painful. As soon as the nurse left the room to allow her the privacy to change into drier clothes for whatever "trip" they were going on, Serena quickly opened the drawer to where she usually kept her socks and underwear and reached along the top underneath until a cold sensation touched her fingertips. A razorblade that she had taped there for emergencies, so that the staff of the institution wouldn't easily be able to find it. Fighting the urge to use it right then and there, she stuck it in her sock instead. She had spent too much time trying to hide her actions so she was able to quickly think on her feet. The nurse would return any minute to check on her, so there was no way that she would be able to do anything now. But soon, very soon.
Before Serena had the change to change into a new pair of clothes, the nurse had returned into the room to do a check. The staff did not like the patients to be alone for very long, but that was probably standard for all psychiatric facilities. "Serena, come on, hurry up." the nurse spoke to her in a stern voice which was not helping her current emotional state. Instead of responding, she swiftly grabbed a selection of clothing, turned her back to the nurse and threw it on. Then she followed the nurse out of her room.. At least in the main hallway areas she wasn't watched as much like a hawk. She could probably swing a visit to the bathroom before they left, especially if this was going to be a long visit.
Not wanting to ask the same nurse, Serena looked around to find another which wasn't hard at this facility. "I know we're leaving soon, but I really need to go to the bathroom. Can you make sure they don't leave without me? I don't think I can hold it," Serena lied, she did not need to use the bathroom at all. Nevertheless, the nurse complied and told her to be quick and that she would ensure that no one left without her.
As soon as Serena was inside of the bathroom, her original intent would be to lock the door, but unfortunately all of the locks were removed in case of any patient emergency. No matter than.... Serena had jammed doors shut before, using the bobby pins that she kept inside of her hair. She would wedge them in ever so slightly that the door could not be opened from the other side. Of course, if someone were to kick down the door they would be able to open it, but it would buy her some time. Once the bobby pin was in place, she reached into her sock to pull out her tool; her toy as she referred to it to herself. Knowing that if she did anything to her arms it would be much too noticeable, instead, she rolled up the bottom of the leg of her jeans. She took a deep breath as the cutting edge of her instrument kissed her skin. Immediately, trickles of red began to ooze from her once pristine flesh. She thought that it would be enough to help her forget about what had popped into her head earlier, but it wasn't. She needed more.
No! Please! Please stop, please!
Another swift brush against her skin with the sharp edge, this time she pushed down a little harder, running over scars created from previous times that life became too much for her to handle.
MOMMY!
Serena snapped her eyes shut and pushed down as hard as she could on the instrument before dragging it across one last time, leaving an enormous gash, blood pouring from the wound and trickling out onto the floor. More panic flooded over her. She had never cut this this deep before, and she was unsure of what she could do. She did not want to tell the nurse, surely that would not end well, but at the same time, she couldn't just sit there and bleed. What if it didn't stop? What if it killed her? Serena didn't want to die, but she just wanted to flashbacks to go away.
"You've been in there for a while, I'm coming in, Serena," the other nurse stated before entering the bathroom to see Serena seated on the floor, desperately holding a wad of toilet paper on her gaping wound.
The nurse called out for some assistance and Serena was quickly brought to the infirmary to be stitched up. She was terrified that this was going to mean being restrained to her bed at best, or solitary confinement at worst, but instead she was informed that her attendance was required on this trip, and that she would just be running a little late than the others.
Obnoxious Overdosing Crisis ﹛ thank you gravol. I pretty much slept the ENTIRE day, but I'm feeling fairly decent now. Who knows what the heck came over me! Also, since this character has BPD - I'd planned on including some self injury in the posts. Not a lot, but... some. If that is problematic to anyone, PLEASE tell me. Please. I am a recovered self-injurer and I have no problem telling that to people if it makes you feel more comfortable telling me that this is triggering to you. I have no problem at all editing, time skipping, or whatever. I promise.
PS. AHH! Had to change her themesong. It's perfect. The other one was perfect, but this one is perfect too, and it's beautiful. ﹜
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Posted: Mon Jan 31, 2011 8:47 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’s tolerant smile grew into a genuine grin when Heath seemed to materialize beside them. Something about the way he always seemed so effortlessly collected was extraordinarily reassuring to the OCD girl. Though he was a few years older than her, he seemed to remain unfazed by their differences in age. The youngest of her strange family of fellow patients, Olympia had a tendency of dismissing her rare awkward moments as inevitable results of her “Baby” status, though none had ever really made a point of excluding her for being a mere nineteen. She almost laughed aloud when Heath punched Angelo’s arm playfully. The schizophrenic boy’s expression made it clear that he wasn’t particularly fond of Heath’s greeting gesture.
“Want to be my partner? For the field trip, I mean.”
Olympia had arched her eyes playfully towards the ceiling and parted her lips to teasingly reply when Angelo seemed to decide they weren’t worth his time anymore and stalked off with nothing more than a salute and a short “Ciao.” She took a small step back, as if to get out of his way, and watched his departure with curious and guarded eyes. Once he was a few feet away, Olympia realized what she was doing and quickly returned her attentions to Heath, who leaned jauntily on a convenient countertop. Her sunny smile, which had dimmed during Angelo’s exit, bounced right back up onto her lips readily. “Sure.” She managed, holding his eyes for a moment before looking out towards the soaked lawn and menacing clouds. “If we even get out of here.” The petite blond amended, rubbing her arms for warmth and looking back at Heath with smiling eyes.
She considered sauntering back to her room to fetch a proper coat, but quickly convinced herself that she’d probably only be exposed to the elements for a few seconds between getting into the Institute’s bus and emerging at the local movie theater. It was when she began wondering what movie they’d be attending or what the roller rink would be playing that she remembered the details of their venture into the outside world hadn’t been revealed quite yet. Her throat tensed with anxiety. She needed solid plans to feel comfortable enough to enjoy herself. It occurred to her that Heath might have head something from the scurrying nurses and orderlies.
“Any idea where we’re off to?” She released her grip on her own arms and let her hands drift down to her sides, where they quickly plunged themselves into the deep, luxuriously thick pockets of her cardigan. Her right hand worried a loose thread as she awaited Heath’s reply. Standing so far from him in the empty hallway seemed cold, though she’d been perfectly willing to adopt a stance a bit farther away than was polite with Angelo when he'd been present. Olympia shortened the gap between them with two small, casual steps and turned her body as if to start walking towards the meeting room.
It was then that she heard the worried rustle of the standard-issue nurse garb coming from further down the hall. She heard a nurse cry out, but her words were indistinct and hazy. There was some sort of commotion and Olympia found herself stepping away from Heath as a mini-squad of nurses moved swiftly down the hall, pouring out of the dormitory areas and disappearing around a corner. The petite blond raised a slightly startled eyebrow and turned her quizzical glance back towards her casual companion.
She was feeling anxious again, thrown off her fairly regular routine leading up to a trip by the swarm of panicked Institute workers. Whatever had happened had caused quite a stir and Olympia felt a short burst of panic well up and sting the back of her throat. “What happened?” She called, her typically soft tone spiked with acidic worry. Somewhere around the corner down the hall, she heard the light, hurried steps of the nurses join into a rhythmic swish as they glided like ghosts into what Olympia would later discover to be the Infirmary.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
OutOfCharacter ❝ Bleh. Last bit is a lil awkward. Sorry. I'm totally exhausted. Night, guys!
Song (changed) in main picture, outfit in second. ❞
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Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 8:26 am
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.
Billy watched Serena walk over and help Michael, but soon get distracted and walk away. She didn't walk away before telling Frank to help the one who had fallen. Billy just looked at Michael with a lift of an eyebrow and pouted. Frank wasn't around it seemed, he looked around for him but it seemed there was only Billy and Michael. He kept his face hidden and shrugged, wishing there was some way to tell Michael that he was sorry Frank wasn't around to 'help' him walk. Billy took the initiative and reluctantly held out his arm for Michael to grab. As if his arm was a teddy bear he didn't want to give up. His face looked away towards the soggy ground, then up at the umbrella.
Once Michael even touched his arm, Billy marched quickly into the building. He closed up the umbrella and dropped it into the bin by the door. He pulled his arm away from Michael and held it close to his chest as if it were tainted. He looked towards him like he just stole his favorite toy and bashed it into the ground. Quickly, he ran down the hall, past the worried orderlies and slammed his door closed when he finally made it into his bedroom. He wasn't going anywhere with those people, no one would make him go. While all the other orderlies were busy with someone else, Billy was safe in the corner of his bedroom clinging his knees to his chest.
Those people were strangers, all of them. They were bad people, every single one of them. Billy wanted no part in their games, they were all going to hurt him. They were all going to make fun of him and take all his stuff. Billy wasn't going to let that happen, he was going to sit in his room forever. Knock. Knock. Knock. The sound made the poor boy jump and he clung to the floor as if it would fly from under him. "Come come now, it's time to come out of your room!" Billy shook his head and pressed his hands over his ears.
'No. No. No! No! No!' He screamed in his head until all went black. Frank awoke with a start, unsure how he had gotten in his room. He stood up from the corner. Knock. Knock. Knock. He felt his body for his glasses and he put them on swiftly. His slender hands grabbed the doorknob and pulled it open, a rather startled and worried nurse stood there. She seemed to be worried about something else.
"I'm fine." He nodded and adjusted his glasses on his face as he shut the door behind him. He smiled his crooked grin, exposing his not-so straight teeth. The woman nodded, patted him on the back, and rushed back over to the other orderlies. Something bad was happening, Frank wasn't sure what. He looked closer and noticed that they were all going into Serena's room. Serena, she was in trouble! Frank didn't even feel his feet move as he tried to get into her room. The orderlies pulled him back and pushed him down. They apologized but that didn't fix the pain that he felt. His heart ached, he worried that Serena was hurt... or worse: dead. His fingers grasped his chin and he slowly got up onto his feet.
"Please be okay... please be okay..." He mumbled to himself.
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