Mischief (p)

[roman]

Today was a new day. It was morning, and the sun shown through Roman’s window. Roman though was still in his bed, not sleeping- he never slept anymore, but reading his small poetry book his father had given him months before. The two other books were on the far wall near the door still. He loved all the poems of the book, and wished he would have been able to make a poetry book like this. But alas- he didn’t deserve that. He was fated to die soon.. hopefully. He hadn’t found a knife yet, but had asked around some patients to hand him one if someone found one. A knife. A knife would do just fine right now… He sighed and closed his book, sitting up on his bed finally. What time was it? Ah, gotta be early, but not too early, as his ears picked up lonely steps of nurses outside. Must be breakfast time. He sighed again when his door was opened, and he looked to see one of the nurses smiling at him. Great. He frowned deeply, and got up from his bed. “I don’t want any food.” He said with firmness. The nurse stepped back. “But Roman, you must eat…” Roman started to glare. “I refuse, you can’t make me eat, I don’t want to. Let me go back to sleep! I’ll have lunch when it’s time…” He screamed, stepping forward toward the nurse. The nurse, probably new around the place nodded and shut the door. She hurried away.

Roman grinned. yes... He had gotten his way. Of course, maybe that hadn’t been luck, the nurse seemed pretty new- he hadn’t seen her around before. But He had been here only a year and he had gotten his way just a few times- so maybe it could be counted as luck? Hmm. He slumped down to his bed once more and thought about what to do now. He stared at the floor, which he always seemed to end up doing, and wondered if anyone had tried to dig themselves out of the asylum. Hmm…

He scanned his room, and saw something black. A marker! The idiot nurse must have dropped it when she ran off. Heh. Slowly getting of the bed to go grab his prize he slowly bent down and picked it up. He griped the pen, and almost smiled. it was his.. and then quickly, knowing that this possession of something this good could be taken away any moment, he started to write on the walls. They were all mostly sad poems, but then he was always in a sad mood. Even if he had found a pen. He hadn’t found a knife, yet. He scribbled words around his window, and then right above his pillow. He then went over and put two words on the door facing the room: deathly hallows. It had been a name of a poem in his little poem book, and he thought it might fit his room. He spun around and looked for some place else best to write on, and his arm caught the handle. Had the nurse thought to lock his door?

Turning around once more, he held his breath as he turned the knob. It was easy…and finally, and very slowly, he opened the door. Wow- what a great day this was! Grinning, he tiptoed out of his room, looking back and forth to see if anyone was coming. No one was- probably they were all still having breakfast or something. Whatever. More fun for him right? He closed the door some, but not all the way just in case he had to hurry in. As if his room was safe… He opened the cap and looked around once more, biting his lip, he wrote a poem in the middle of the door, sure that he would get into trouble for this. He could care less though. He wrote a poem describing the room;

This is a cell.
Can’t you tell, cant you tell?
They say I am ill.
That is just as well,
This is a grave.

This is a grave,
That is just as well,
They say I am ill.
Can’t you tell, can’t you tell?
This is a cell.

He then decided, since he probably won’t be able to get a pen again in a long while, he went all out. Started to write poetry next to his door. And then farther down. He grinned as he did this, having fun. He couldn’t wait for the staff’s faces when they saw writings on their building. Heh. He stopped paying attention to the hall, and stopped looking or listening to see if someone was near. Hopefully, everybody was busy and no staff member would come down this part for a while… Because he didn’t want to stop.

OOC-
comment: I hope you can work with this DX If not, I'll fix it.
Tag; Dr. Damien

[Dr. Damian Lucid]

Am I forced to have any regret?
I've become the lie, beautiful and free
In my righteous own mind
I adore and preach the insanity you gave to me

What was with today? Everything was in a chaotic disorder that made him want to pull his hair out. Most days were good, glorious even but then there were days like this that just disrupted everyone's lives. He had three patients in padded cells another in the infirmary along with a long list of problems after that. The pager constantly on his belt had been going off every two minutes as doctors interns and nurses were begging for advice, help and just in general nagging him.

His mission now? A nurse had come to him completely rattled blubbering about one of the patients that went by the name of Roman. he knew the kid's file and would put him straight for being such a little snarky asshole for no reason. Everyone one of his staff was here to help him and he had no tolerance for such disobedience. A year the kid had been within these walls and just struggled and rebelled against moving forward and getting better. he had told the nurse to go help out on the second floor and he would take care of this situation, it was his duty.

Steps were brisk and cold while his gaze never left the hall before him, not even to linger upon the good looking woman which was completely unusual and so unlike him. It was one of those days. Once he hit his office he was cracking open his brandy.

"ROMAN KADE DEMITRI!"

His voice was loud, commanding and beyond furious. He had spotted him while storming down the hall writing in HIS WALLS. He was defiling a clean place with rubbish and unwelcome. Black marker streamed across pale surfaces and doors embedding into his vision only fueling his rage and disgust. In damn near a sprint he grabbed the boy by the back of the shirt and shoved him towards his room.

"MOVE! Cindy call the janitor and hive the team come clean this shit up. If it doesn't come off repaint it. His family will be charged along with all of his personal belongings removed. Send Charlie in to come gather it all up and store it away."

Words were clipped while he barked orders as walking, burning gaze finally settling upon the kid his mind reeling wanting to just back hand him but he held it back. He would have a punishment in order though. He knew what the kid held dear and wouldn't like this.

[roman]

Honestly, he thought he was doing good for the building. He hated those white walls, that clean almost unnatural area. It was a shame such talent was locked up in the madhouse anyways. Roman liked his poems… and he kept writing all over the walls. Mostly about being “locked” and being chained, and seeing freedom but not enjoying it. No- he would never right anything not worth reading. Shame that he wanted to die… He didn’t notice the steps of a doctor coming closer to his hall, yes, his hall. He had written on the walls once more, and now this was his place. Man, he couldn’t wait to tell his father… and then the grin disappeared as he heard his name boomed. Oh, no… He glanced toward Damian. Ah, not him, please not him. He forced a grin and put the cap on the pen, hiding the pen behind his back. He was grabbed at the back, and shoved toward his room door. He caught himself on the door before he fell. Wow, no one appreciated poetry these days… He turned himself so he was leaning on the door, glaring at the doctor. “Morning, Doctor.” He said, the hatred plain in sight. His words were almost filled with sarcasm too.

However, this was almost amusing too. Getting in trouble for writing on the walls, it was almost as if he was a little kid again. Hmm. He wondered how hard Damian hit. Take away all his possessions? Shoot. “Fine, take it away, I don’t need anything anyways.” He hissed. Having no possessions would be easier on him if he died, so why not? He would be sad to see that poetry book go though… now what the hell was he supposed to do with all this free time. He gripped the pen behind his back, hoping they wouldn’t take it away just yet. He wanted to hold it just a bit longer. He glared at Damian, with all the hatred and anger in his eyes. Why did doctors have to exist? Deciding he had nothing to lose anymore (except the pen, but he figured that was a given), he used something he had remembered his father had used when he was still living with him. He raised his right free hand, and flipped the doctor off. Yes, he did it. And he was scared of nothing.

He wondered how many patients had been able to that. Eh, probably high profile ones. Whatever. He sighed and looked down the hall to see if any patients were coming to hide behind. No one came, just the people Damian had angrily ordered around. Amusing… He saw Charlie coming down the hall, and the anxiety started to come. Aw man, it was really happening…. And then Roman kind of exploded. He lurched toward Damian, and started to scream at him. “I hate you! I hate you, and all the other idiot staff. I hate this place!” Well, that was his opinion. He was tempted to try and hit the doctor, but he didn’t. Naw, he would never go that far… and then in a softer voice, he repeated “I hate you…” He then let emotion take him, and tears started to fall. He slid down to a sitting position, and he wrapped his arms around his head. He started to cry- something he always seemed to do at least once a day, maybe it happened more than once by now… Asylums could do that to you. It could break you down, or fix you up, but normally it just broke you down.

He hated this place…

[Dr. Damian Lucid]

The sarcasm dripped from the boy like a foul stench, but instead of getting any angrier Damian just flashed him a smile. That one smile held all the pain he would inflict upon minor with nothing going within his life. The kid wanted to die, he had attempted and failed so many times his body a canvas of such vile ways it was almost amusing. Damian would take his anger out on him, he would poke and push every button he knew and could find on top of that and just to make things better the kid blew up.

Screaming filled the halls while Roman's once high and mighty behavior collapsed. Violence lurked within those brown eyes but nothing followed as he dropped to the floor in a heap of tears. So what if he hated Damian? Damian wasn't fond of the kid himself and once those words were uttered the doctor just sneered at him. Him flipping him the finger? Not a big deal worse things had been flashed and thrown at him in rages and breakdowns.

"All the books also and personal clothes Charlie. He will be wearing scrubs. No wrist bands, jewelry, nothing. Tell Gloria she is to check him DAILY for new cuts no matter how small and that he is going on a new set of pills."

Charlie just nodded at all of the and trudged on to do the work he was asked while Damian just towered over the boy with triumph flickering over his features. He would win this, he would destroy every resistant fiber in this boy. He had done it before to others so this was just a walk in the park.

"You hear that Roman? You will take these pills. You will eat. You will follow through with therapy sessions and checkups you here? I will personally force you to them and shove the shit down your throat. You are here to get better not screw around like a little graffiti punk because your life is such a shit hole. You will learn respect for my staff and myself, it's not our fault your such a piece of scum your family dumped you here because you couldn't cope. It's not our fault your so amazing at failing you couldn't even kill yourself right. Now GET UP and GET IN YOUR ROOM!."

Lecturing tone began to rise, he was being an asshole but it was necessary. He was going to push this kid till he began to improve or until he broke. either way Damian would be probing his mind and learning so either outcome would work. He leaned forward, hand darting out and snagging the marker boy has used with a grin then proceeded to pocket it in a flourish.

[roman]

A year had passed since he first stood in this place, this hell. Even then he thought of it as a tomb in which people tried to help but couldn’t, not ever. He tried the pills- they didn’t help. Therapists he could tell were a little scared of him and doctors were just disguised satans. If he wanted to die that much, why wasn’t he dead yet? Simple. Nurses found him just in time or he didn’t have a weapon. His hobby was reading and poetry, but now he guessed he had taken it too far- he was never going to get his stuff back. But that was just as well- it’s always easier to go when you don’t own anything. And his probably wouldn’t care either- Roman was the one who killed his brother after all, or that’s what he kept telling himself. Happiness was no where to be found in this world anymore. He greeted Damian as he shouted orders, thinking how good it would feel just to punch the guy. Poetry wasn’t graffiti… Roman was proud of what he had done. And then of course came the punishment… one he disliked very much.

Doctors were enemies… especially this one. He flipped the guy off and exploded a bit- screaming his hatred to everything but aiming most at Damian. He listened to Damian’s next words, but said nothing. Tears fell quicker, and he wouldn’t be able to stop them now… Scrubs? More like grave clothes. No books? Fine, he could stare out the window all day, that was ok too. He had more time to plot on getting his hands on a knife then. No jewelry? Well their went the earring… oh well. There was nothing for the coroner to get off then. Taking things away didn’t really bother him, they didn’t. He said that too himself probably ten times in his head to make it true. The book of poetry didn’t matter- his father had given it too him anyways, it didn’t mean much. “go ahead, I don’t mind scrubs…” Roman said with a glare at the doctor. “I’m not going to take those pills though” This doctor wouldn’t break his rebellion of today… he couldn’t control his feelings… He barely glanced up as Damian seemed to think he had won. No, Roman wasn’t that weak, Damian couldn’t get him to do anything.,.. He wasn’t going to take those pills.

Roman let his arms fall as he finally looked up, anger flaring in those eyes. No. He shook his head. “No, you can’t make me. I don’t want to get better and I will always hate this place. Poetry is not graffiti. You’re an idiot.” Roman said softly, tears streaming down his face like a small river. Get his room? “No. I don’t want to.” And that was that. Like he had predicted the pen was snatched away from him, and Roman frowned deeply. “Give me back my D*mn marker, jerk.” Roman snapped, but sat still. Naw, he wasn’t going to do anything about it, it had just been an excuse to swear. Damian was obviously stronger than him, Roman wouldn’t have a chance to get the writing tool back. He wiped the tears away when he stopped crying, wishing he actually had tried to eat today so he’d have more energy to try to run off. But alas he hadn’t, and let his muscles relax so he’d be much heavier to move. If Damian really wanted him to go to his room, he’d have to do it himself, or have someone else carry him in. As much as Damian was a a**, Roman would just keep on fighting. “You can’t make me do anything…” He spat once again. Gosh he hated this doctor.

[Dr. Damian Lucid]

And more waves of it came, the anger and frustration from Damian prodding at him and tampering with the right strings. He was smug, oh he was above and beyond that even. He was screwing with a kid and enjoyed it even he couldn't deny it. Yes every word was true that had left his mouth but each word and action was to prod the kid into a reaction, cause and effect, the reason for Damian's existence no matter how unethical he was about it at times. He was a good doctor because he stepped outside of the boundaries, he didn't feel the need to baby and swaddle people. Instead he spoke to them how they deserved to be spoken to and this was a prime example.

One hand raised up, index finger and middle finger motioning over shoulder and in return two of his best guards within this compound stepped forward waiting for their orders. The kid would either get up like a capable person or he would be dragged. Damian had no patience for this shit.

"And you will take the medication whether you want to or not, you refuse i will sedate your pathetic ass and have the shit dumped into your system through an IV. How does that sound? You have no leverage here, you can not do what you please, you can not walk all over me and my staff. You are the door mat here not us. And i will wipe my feet on you if this continues."

Damian had crouched down so he was almost level with boy who was no yet a man as he spoke, words clear and precise. Where was his alcohol? He needed something to chill him out. A nice glass of rum and a few patients' files sounded like heaven at that moment. It wasn't even the fact he was pissed or frustrated with this precise case. It was just the day in general that was grating on his nerves and rubbing him all sorts of wrong.

"I can put you in solitary, a padded cell and straight jacket even Roman. I can make you do what ever i damn well please. You are my puppet here whether you decide to accept it or not. You try and retaliate shit gets harder for you. You either make progress and get better or ill make you wish you had. And don't get me wrong. That IS a threat kid."

He gave another charming smile while gaze drilled into the boy to see his next move. He was analyzing and processing his every breath and twitch, this boy had been here a year and still had so much to learn. And as Damian rose to stand back to full height he snapped the marker in two and threw it in a trash can the janitorial crew had wheeled up to try and attempt to clean the walls. he was deciding to ignore the idiot comment for he knew he was not one, hence his positioning to treat this boy and destroy him as he pleased.

[roman]

He wasn’t going to give in. No, the stupid doctor was nothing- he had no power. No one had that much power. No one should have that much power. Ever. He glared at Damian as he called the guards, or, what Roman now dubbed them as- a doctor’s “dogs”. He made no movement though- he could care less. He didn’t actually mind being dragged, it was actually what he had wanted Damian to do. He could get his way with these things, yes. He could win. Sure, he was very furious at the doctor for practically taking everything he had, even the clothes on his back, but then again- it was another excuse for him to want to die. He had nothing. He glanced up at the guards but still made no move. Maybe others would be scared by now. But not Roman. He wasn’t scared of anything anymore. Right? “Sounds lovely. Why don’t you sedate yourself too so the whole world can be happy. And guess what? I don’t care.” Roman snapped, fire in his eyes. A punch would be fun right now- the doctor would totally deserve it. But no, his body wouldn’t allow it. So he didn’t do anything. And hey- might best not to do anything physical anyhow.

As Damian got lower Roman narrowed his eyes at him. It’d be easier to punch him now. Would it be worth it? Would it make this any better? Roman’s mind said yes, but his body still was against his doing anything. No sleep and not eating really seemed to catch up to you… what a shame. Roman growled quietly, his temper high but he really was too tired from screaming to do anything. “You can put me in anything and you can do whatever you want and you can try to break me but really… nothing you do nor say can make me feel or think differently.” The medicine won’t work either… He wanted to say but he didn’t, not wanting to regret this meeting. “Actually, it only gets easier from here… You’d have to kill me in order for me to stop fighting.” And that was it- his reference to death. Points for Roman? Naw, a doctor wouldn’t kill his own patient… would he? If he pushed him more, would Damian give him what he always wanted? Probably not, because he was too much of a jerk to be that nice. “Threats have no effect on me.” Roman spat, and even spit toward the doctor’s face. He’d probably miss, but it was worth a try.

Roman watched as Damian broke the marker and threw it away, and it was then Roman started to feel a bit tired. No breakfast today meant little energy, and he had just about spent it all. And no sleep meant easier to get tired, as well. The two went together, and Roman had had neither. Insomnia was a curse when he wanted to show how strong he could be. Maybe that’s why patients here in Lucid Manor were less than anyone else- they just could never win. There was always a disadvantage in the way. Roman leaned forward, put his face in his hands and screamed. Screamed bloody murder, as loud and distressing and disturbing as he possibly could. It echoed throughout the halls, made some even stop what they were doing and look. Roman could care less. Damian had gotten to him hard. He finally realized that Damian had the upper hand her, and he didn’t like it. “I hate you...” He said softly once more, but this time it was as he had just given up, as if there was just no more point to it.

[Dr. Damian Lucid]

Screams rang around him in a glorious pitched sound, to him it was like the sound of an orchestra and if he were a dog he would have rolled in it as if it were a dead animal. Bliss, pure bliss. Grin lifted sculpted lips and cheek bones once more while a brow raised almost as if in question if Roman was done or not. Once the remnants of bloodied notes petered off Damian could do nothing more than chuckle, a deep hearty sound resonating from lungs and vocal chords slithering from mouth in almost an uncalled for manner. He had blatantly ignored the boy's other words, they were useless and had no meaning to him. The boy was nothing more than a lab rat at this point.

"You can scream all day, you can tell me you hate me all night but it does you no good and you know it."

Hands slid within enclosed soace of pant's pockets as he rocked upon balls and heels of his feet, way to amused to even try and hide it. Order was restoring around him only momentarily disturbed by the boys screaming. This was an institution, screams and yowls were something that happened on a regular basis and could only disrupt usual activities momentarily.

"Boys, take him to his room please and place him in a chair, we are going to have a little talk."

With that the two guards strode forward without question. They were paid good, treated well and had it nice here. None of his guards would defy him for their jobs were not something they would willingly walk away from. Yes the newer recruits sometimes had hard times adjusting to this new atmosphere and Damian himself and his ways but all in all they grew to accept it and become emotionless. It was best.

"Now Roman, it's been awhile since we had a session and i've decided we are having one right now. One of you boys grab Gloria and tell her e need a round of Phase 3's please."

Phase threes, those would help. It was code for a shot of light dose tranquilizers and an assortment of pills to chill the boy out and within a few hours Roman would be asleep for a good twelve hours. it was time he took the stand and started with his treatments the right way or was forced. Either way this would not continue.

[roman]

There was many reasons why Roman hated doctors. But Damien could have his own category. Hell, Damien probably didn’t want to “help” him at all, probably just loved seeing pain… yep, that was probably it. He screamed out of frustration, but in the end he was much to tired to fight more. The enegy had been pretty much drained from him- maybe he should have tried to get a bite to eat. Maybe that would’ve been smart, and maybe he could have tried to make Damian see…that even if he did take the pills nothing would ever work. He was never getting better, and he was certainly never getting out of this place. Unless, of course, he died. Death still seemed sweet, so sweet… He muttered that he hated Damian, and then became quiet, almost as if he had given up. He just…had to recharge for a minute… curse Insomnia. He listened to the doctors next words but didn’t say anything. He did know it wouldn’t do anything, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try it. All life was was a trial and error, might be successful someday. Successful with killing himself, that is.

And the Damian ordered some guards forward, and Roman made no move. He just looked at them with a tired, beat expression and flicked his eyes as they walked towards him. Damian ordered one to go to Gloria, and the one on the left went to do so without hesitation. Roman rolled his eyes. “Nasty.” He commented quietly. Phase 3’s? Not the worst pills, but still pretty bad. Didn’t help with depression very much, only helped with knocking him out for a bit. He wouldn’t mind that, but he always seemed to get a headache after he woke up from a medicated sleep. Or maybe he just imagined having a headache, of maybe it was that gross after taste… Either way, he hated pills. And this meeting with Damian had just made his life so. Much. More. Worse. And if he told his father of it, he might think he was going crazier. No, better not tell father about Damian.

He was then finally dragged into his room, lifted and roughly sat in a chair near his bed. The room was practically empty now that his things had been taken away, but the poetry on his walls still was frozen on where he had written them. It made him grin, at least Damian wouldn’t take those off- would he? It was his room, no one would really see them except him and the people who had to walk through the door. And anyways, there were all great poems, he had become a great poet. Too bad his skills wouldn’t ever really be used out of the mad house. Flickering his eyes around, he quietly complained. “Do I really have to take those stupid pills…” They never really did anything, did they? There was a reason he had already stayed in this place for a year, even though Roman never had saw the point in getting better. Didn’t really deserve to live. Damian will have to force the pills down his throat anyways, for he refused to swallow them willingly. He glared at the guard who had dragged him in her, and then glared at the doctor. He debated on whether he should try to run out the door again. Would it be worth it? Maybe…

With a quick motion he sprang up from the chair, and lurched toward the door, his tired legs springing forward as he rushed to get out to the hall again. He knew he wasn’t going to get far, but hey. Everything was worth a try.

OOC-
Bad post is bad :[

[Dr. Damian Lucid]

He watched as boy was dumped back into his room and into a chair completely pleased. One guard strode from the room and with a nod the other flanked after him but stood just outside by the wall as Damian strode into graffiti filled room. It would be soon and the medicine would be here to dilute the boy and hopefully fix a little of the sleep deprivation he was suffering from. The doctor was more than curious as to how Roman acted when not exhausted and malnourished, would he be the same rebelling boy who couldn't cope or a different figure they wouldn't recognize here.

Gaze briefly glanced over scribbling of marker upon pristine wall then back to his patient who was grinning like a hyena. Punk. This is why a guard always stood at attention upon the door when he was in rooms, sometimes it got ugly when it came to one on one sessions in a patient's "personal" quarters and they big boys had to step in with nurses behind them syringes of tranqs firmly within grasp. It's not that Damian couldn't handle himself, but when it came to lawsuits he preferred to keep it professional and reasonable. God forbid he dropped a kid to the floor by kicking out his knees right?

"Yes, you have to take the pills. They are part of the treatment, give it time and they WILL work. you just won't commit."

He explained, voice calm and almost good natured as the sense of calm swept over him. He had placed himself in psychiatrist mode to try and pry in the lost case's mind and to do this yelling and degrading him just wouldn't help.

Sigh then issued in a burst of carbon before him that seemed to echo in small confines before he relaxed standing casually just within doorway in front of the boy. But before he could even begin his questions Roman seemed to have a spark of an idea and lurched from chair and streaked towards the door. Bloody hell. Did they always have to have that inclination to run as if they were going somewhere? Did they think the guards wouldn't catch up with them or that they could get out of the doors? Idiots, the lot of them really. Though a few were far too intelligent for their own good.

In a motion of quick thinking and pure reflex though his arm shot out pin line straight in attempt to catch the boy by the throat or the chest and clothes line him, which really would cause him to snap backwards and stumble or just hit the floor. He wasn't worried, if he failed Security beyond door's depths would snag him by the collar and just toss him back in. They boy just was digging himself into a deeper hole. That just ruined any trust he could have been given and put to his advantage. So sad.