Pain for Pleasure? (open)

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

“CJ. Back to your room.”

“Okay,” CJ smiled sweetly at the nurse who simply directed him to the correct way, but CJ had fun. CJ wasn’t going to go back to his room. The nurse who had told him to do so wasn’t exactly the most demanding of people – a sweet heart who never gave CJ his pain – and CJ wasn’t going to go back to his room until he got it. He craved it, almost like a druggie craved their drugs. He’d find something to do, oh yes, CJ would find his pain. Maybe, just maybe he’d go bother Dr. Lucid or his own Doctor for pain… he mulled about it as his fingers traced over the walls of the manor as he walked, lost in thought.

He smiled brightly as he found someone – a high profile – and followed them towards the cafeteria, hoping that he’d get into some sort of trouble. When the fists fly, CJ made a point to be near them, because there was a greater chance of him getting hurt. That pleasure mixed into pain was like absolutely the greatest thing possible. When he saw that the guy wasn’t going to get into any trouble, he huffed a little angrily and slipped into the cafeteria, getting a vanilla ice cream before sitting at one of the tables, nomming on it happily.

He had purposely sat where he could watch the entire cafeteria, as well as out the door to see if anyone interesting came by, but he doubted it. He was halfway through his ice cream when he figured the best way to get his pain would to find his own doctor and annoy the shit out of the sadistic man… that thought – he licked his lips almost squealing at the thoughts in his mind. Oh, how CJ Putnum was craving his pain, and willing to go through anything to get it.

[justice]

Justice yawned, stretching his arms above his head and glancing around. He had been a good boy for the last few days, and had recently decided that he deserved a treat. So, with a guard's express permission that he had obtained with bucket loads of begging (minus the puppy faces, Just sooo didn't do those. Period) he had secured a spot in helping out with the kitchen work. Just cleaning dishes; of course the staff would never let him anywhere near the stoves. But as the pile of dishes and the sink were on opposite sides of the supplies drawer... he could manage a little stunt. There weren't many staff in the kitchens at the moment, it not being time for any one of the three meals of the day, and he managed to inch open the drawer and pull out his favorite little thing: a lighter. Quickly slipping it into his pocket, he rendered his face utterly emotionless and finished washing the dishes, then exited into the cafeteria with a small bowl of icecream. It didn't really interest him that much, but he ate it anyway. Had to keep up his not-so-innocent-but-not-dangerous-either profile, after all.

His eyes flickered around the large room, taking in the similarly large amount of patients. He could see a few staff through the window in their lounge, but they looked too busy to pay any attention to the cafeteria itself. And the staff in the kitchens were just interested in cooking. They got payed for it, after all. Justice wished that he had gotten payed for washing the dishes, but hey, he had gotten his lighter, and that was enough payment to make him happy. As long as he was subtle about it, he might even be able to start testing again. He gingerly poked at the scars on his arms, so neat and organized, unlike the nasty ones on his leg. The organized blotches made him look a bit like a cheetah, and others had often asked if they were tattoos. It almost made him laugh, just almost. He, of course, had neglected to answer them. But he still found it amusing that the rose-gray splotches could pass for tattoos. Maybe he would use that excuse one day, when he had finally escaped from his shithole. And be sure, if he wasn't going to be released anytime soon, he was planning on escaping, literal definition and all. There had to be some way, and he had spent the last few weeks speculating about it every night, straight before he fell asleep. He wasn't a spineless wimp, he could do it.

He was watching the large double-door arch when he noticed an odd sight. A tall boy (Just only admitted it because the boy was about five inches taller than him...), who would look quite intimidating if he didn't resemble a puppy so much. He was trailing behind one of the other patients, whom Justice recognized as a high profile from the guard that was escorting him. Justice had been quite careful about that for the past month, ever since the staff had warned him that Just himself would get bumped up on the scale if he did anything that could be considered dangerous. That was why he had to be subtle about the testing, especially since as he was running out of arm room, and he might have to use other people soon. It saddened him a bit, seeing as he didn't think that others could give him accurate information. But the guy. The guy looked like he was just begging to be hurt, seeing as he trailing behind a high profiler. Maybe he really did want to get hurt. It interested Justice, interested him a lot. He waited until the boy had sat down (after quite a performance of huffing for some reason), then walked over and sat next to him. Sure, it was rare that he would ever willingly start a conversation, but the little rectangular bump on his thigh propelled him forward. "Hello." he said, a simple greeting. His face was impassive as he waited for the boy to respond.

word count 690

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

CJ was lost in his thoughts as he at the ice cream, pondering how to get Rathebone to play with him before his appointment, so lost in thought he didn’t see the new boy enter from the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream. His own ice cream was quickly melting into a pile of warm goo, the sticky stuff swirling around and around in CJ’s plastic bowl. Plastic bowl – a plastic spoon; they were all too “dangerous” to wield metal or silverware; the low profiles not willing to succumb to normality of using plastic items to eat. Even to CJ – who has been here for five months – found it a little strange at the start, but then the thoughts of being absolutely subjected to poking with a metal fork or hit over and over with a metal plate seemed to envelope his thoughts… and he licked his lips again, thrilled at the thoughts that coursed through his mind, the feelings of excitement and pleasure mixed together. It was pure ecstasy.

And he didn’t realize the boy sitting next to him had said something to him. His silver-green eyes trailed over the cafeteria to rest on the Japanese-decent boy, curiosity getting the better of him. He huffed quietly licking his spoon, “Hi! You’re a newer kid here, right? I’m Cobra – but I prefer CJ. What’s your name again?” he questioned, tilting his head, almost studying the boy. He was unique looking, but that wasn’t enough to be said – hey, he was British, from British roots – born and raised in England. He wasn’t one to judge, being open minded about a lot, and even not judging a book by its cover. He thought about this kid – he didn’t know much, but he has seen him around; curious little bugger he was, that was for sure. “What are you in for? Do you want to play? CJ has his cravings, and his cravings always mean someone has to help. CJ likes pain,” he nodded quickly, “CJ will do anything to get any amount of pain…” he trailed off, loving the thought process.

[/justify]

[justice]

Pain had interested Justice since had leg had been burned, and it had led to the tests, the seclusion, the advanced science classes. Really, Justice had liked his life pretty well until they had thrown him in here. He couldn't even study his advanced science in here, but he felt the most sorry for the younger ones who hadn't completed school yet. He wondered if they ever would. The damned asylum should have some sort of classroom, seeing as a lot of the school-level patients were still fit for learning. It annoyed him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He could complain and suggest and poke and prod all he wanted, but they would just think that the idea was bad because a patient suggested it. It was a horrible life, but he was getting used to it. Maybe when he got out of here he could go back to college, no matter how much it looked like he had been held back a few years. He could probably revive his scholarship once they learned that he wasn't crazy... He would need a note, though. An email, a fax with a doctor's signature. Proof helped a case, stopped the damn schools from being suspicious. He could fake it, he would carve it out of the damn plastic bowels if he had to, he could make it work. Somehow.

He was tugged out of his little land of plotting by the kid staring to chatter. It annoyed him, why couldn't he have just left him alone? But then he remembered that Justice had been the one to start the conversation in the first place, with curious intentions. Well, the intentions themselves were rather twisted, but Justice had been curious. He considered standing up and walking back to his other seat, but a: he should probably make the most of his time in this shithole, and the best way to do that would be to find someone as a backup burner, and b: as he looked over his shoulder he noticed that his old seat was taken, so he couldn't go back there anyway. It would probably be best to answer the kid's questions. "Name's Justice." he said simply. "I can't say it's nice to meet you because that would be lying and my darling doctor doesn't approve of that." he grinned, showing he hadn't meant harm by the rather rude statement.

He almost let his shock show on his face when this kid, this CJ, started talking about his cravings. So he really was a masochist. No matter how much Justice hated the little fucks, they made for good burners. They didn't scream or cry or any shit like that. He had been right to come over here, this kid was good for him. Now he just had to get the kid to like him without showing him the lighter. At least, not in such a crowded place as this. He nodded his head like he was thinking about something, his face still absent of any emotions. Didn't masochists like intimidating people? Of course, the kid was five inches taller than Justice, he could only call him kid in his mind because of how submissive and childish he was being. Guilt didn't even cross his mind as he labeled CJ with such a term. He had to look intimidating, but he wasn't exactly sure if that involved showing emotion or not. It wasn't like Lucid Manor provided any dictionaries for him to look up this kind of stuff.

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

CJ really hated people who just sat there – after they started the conversation – and didn’t talk back besides saying a few casual words. He was an open minded boy, with a very, very high tolerance of most people, so he was honestly the best suited for being almost everyone’s friend. He liked having friends – they made him feel special and wanted and it just made the giddiness in his heart feel so much happier and bigger and it made him squirm. Not as much as pain made him squirm, but it was a good feeling, don’t get him wrong. He studied the boy who had sat next to him as he replied, saying his name was Justice and saying something that just completely went over CJ’s head about his doctor or whatever. Rathebone pushed that CJ should meet new people and make friends, but at the back of his mind, he could hear his doctor’s words warning him that if he dared disobey him, he’d be in trouble. He tilted his head as he stared at the boy, wondering what he was thinking about.

“Are you okay?” he questioned, his head tilted to the side as he studied the other male. He was older than CJ, but shorter, too – CJ didn’t care about size, height, age or gender; he was open and happily and everything seemed to just fit in with him. He wondered what the male was thinking about, “If you need to talk or something I’ll listen. We can go to the corner or something and you can talk to me. I’m a trusty person,” he stated. He was easily trustworthy, too – the thoughts of any pain sinking through his skin consumed him and he couldn’t help but lick his lips at the thought. His cravings were really starting to drive him up the walls, and he was sure he’d hurt himself – something he didn’t particularly do – to get that craving to leave.

[/justify]

[justice]

Maybe this had been a bad idea. He still had plenty of room on his arms, and he could use his left leg when he ran out of torso space... But it still felt nice to have a backup, and Doctor Cheeseball said he needed friends. So he might as well get a backup and shut Cheeseball up in one go. Two birds with one stone. But there was still the problem of befriending the kid, when he really didn't like him that much. Didn't like masochists in general, really, but he would dislike the kid even if he wasn't a masochist. Though then he probably couldn't call him kid all the time, as he would probably be less puppy-like. Masochism just... did things to you. Justice had felt that before, and part of the reason he was looking for a new burner was that he never wanted to feel that way again. It was like being a mealworm put out for a bird to eat, it was being vulnerable. He didn't like that, didn't like that at all. Yet this kid seemed to relish it. It disturbed and him even made him feel a little guilty... just a little. But masochists never seemed to want help, so he wouldn't offer any. He probably wouldn't be much help anyway. No one ever wanted his help. He guessed that he didn't look that helpful in the first place, what his his nose cover and odd hairstyle. His friends had called it 'emo'... back when he had friends. He wondered if they had actual hairdressers here, or if they just gave the patients a crude cut and told them to deal with it. Obviously, they wouldn't give them their own scissors. Maybe they just didn't cut patients hair, let it grow to be overrun and wild. That would certainly give visiting parents a shock. He snickered a little, then turned his attention back to the kid.

"Nah, I don't need to to talk. I'm fine. What about you? You seem kind of jumpy." And that was as far as Justice was going. His answer had been a little late and his question had been even later. He wasn't good at talking, wasn't good at it at all. He just hoped he didn't mess this up, or Cheeseball would be mad at him. Then they would start therapy again and fuck, Justice hated therapy. The one time his doctor had tried to make him paint he had simply covered the canvas in a great blob of black and stated "This is me when I'm in Lucid Manor. Fix it." It made him smile a little. That hadn't gone over well, comparing himself to a large blob of paint that staff considered a depressing color. If you thought hard enough you would notice that there simply wasn't any black in the manor. It had taken a considerable amount of searching to find the paint itself. Heh.

[Cobra Jackson Putnum]

When the older male finally talked, CJ almost squealed in happiness. He wasn’t one to sit around in the silence – in fact. He tilted his head when the boy asked him why he was so… jumpy. Was jumpy the right word to use for him, when he was simply craving. Yes, that’s the word – craving. When he was craving his pain, it was almost like how a crack addict craved his crack – anxious, easily annoyed, troubled, hard time concentrating: it was all that. Everything down to the little fact that it drove him nuts and he couldn’t get his thoughts outside of his head, and that was the reason he was… jumpy. Was he jumpy? He tilted his head in thought as he wondered about it, letting the noises of the cafeteria fill the space, his head swaying this way and that as he thought about it. Was he really that jumpy? He rubbed his nose and licked his spoon clean, thinking about it for a long moment, “Am I jumpy? I’m sorry. CJ’s cravings are like crack. If CJ doesn’t get it, he kinda goes crazy. Maybe that’s why CJ’s locked up here – cause CJ’s crazy, huh?’

He gave a grin, pondering on that last little thought. He wanted his pain, and now that he brought it up. He rubbed his chin as he finished his no longer ice cream ice cream and looked over that the older man; why was he here? How old was he? Did he have cravings too? Would he give CJ pain? It all made CJ wonder why he was stuck in the mental hospital and what type of crazy, fucked up thing he had happened to him in his former life. He grinned brightly, getting up, “Well, CJ needs to go hunt down fun people to hurt CJ…” he said, mindlessly, getting up and picking up his plastic bowl and spoon to get off to hunting down more high profiles. They were the violent ones, anyways.

[/justify]

[justice]

Cravings like crack? This guy really was messed up. Justice started to feel a bit uneasy, started coming up with all sorts of reasons to get out of this. He didn't like CJ and he still had plenty of room to burn and he didn't like masochists and there was the risk of someone discovering his lighter and... he just didn't like the kid. CJ was just disturbing. Now, the reasons to stay; it would be rude to leave. Justice had never had a problem with being rude to other guys before, why now? Exactly, one reason down. His seat was taken. He could take it back, or he could just leave. He could even go sit somewhere else. There was a nice abandoned table at the back of the room, but then, seeing as he was already done with his icecream... he would probably just leave. That would be best. Both reasons down, he could go now. As long as the kid didn't have any more potential as a burner, Justice had no real reason to stay, did he? No, he didn't. Justice snickered quietly, watching him gather up his dishes. Justice normally just left his dishes on the table, figuring the someone would clean them up later. That's what the staff were for, right? Cleaning up the patients messes? That, and making sure they didn't escape... but Justice would find a way around that, he was sure he would. Eventually. He raised and eyebrow and smirked as the boy turned away, to go high profile hunting, he said. Seriously... he was just... messed up. It amused him and disturbed him at the same time. Maybe he would see the guy again someday. He gave a jaunty little wave, smiling a real smile for once. This place was just messed up in general.

notes *sniffle* i guess this is the end?.... I have no idea how to end a thread... or how to announce the end... so... yeah... DX sorry it was so short