Simple Delusions [open]

[Haven L. Kraelis]

Silence, it curled its way along the walls and thickened the air until it seemed it could smother the life out of any being. Sunlight dappled the room as windows highly placed and barred to keep heathens from escaping gave glimpses of outside world ever so briefly and hauntingly it was no wonder those here never seemed to get better. Patients had no hope, only escape this prison of an institution seemed to be death and the reaper himself had already scooped one of them up into his arms.

A murder had draped a insecurity within walls, such vile deed placed upon nothing more than a violent child leaving them all marked with a stain. No one knew who did it and the clues led to false trails and thoughts. Everyone was suspected as security swamped Lucid manor and drilled patients on their where abouts and mental stability. more drugs were being handed out and a close eye kept on all. Such a shame.

She had been discovered, she had been slipping her pills away without swallowing them, she knew the doctors were slowly killing her with them. But oh no, she had been so secretive and so intuitive only to have it ruined because someone decided to drown a girl in the pill. Piss tests and uncovered her little secret and now she was monitored while taking her medications along with a a few hours of solitary confinement as punishment.

Now she sat draped within the arms of a metal chair, sunny room empty and shallow as prior company had fled is a wash of drugged up hazes. The therapy rooms, they seriously thought tossing a bunch of people with illnesses together in a room with a few nurses and a doctor would fix their problems, being forced to talk, to listen and wonder about every other person sitting within a close proximity to you. The kid next to her, a twitchy little bastard with shifty eyes had made her the most nervous. His constant movement and gaze eye fucking her to kingdom come had nearly sent her into a panic attack but yet she couldn't even panic. Drugs had filtered away the possibility to causing her to fade in and out like waves on a beach.

Yet now here she was, alone now that session had ended and no real reason to be here besides the lack of anything to do and the overwhelming feeling of sadness that clawed its way through her veins. Eyes welled with the tell tale signs of tears while fingers clung to arms, knuckles white and nails marring skin. Sh was at a loss, even more so then ever. Constant watch made it impossible for her to kill herself while drugs made it hard to feel let alone express anything. Even when she did she was shut up by doctors telling her she was paranoid and delusional, just another sick person on their list. Hell, this was hell and there was no escape. Even within crowds of patients you were alone.

- tag : Open
- notes : blahh, so rusty
- words : enough
- music : Otep: perfectly flawed
- outfit : Basic scrub pants and a teeshirt, both grey
- credit : template brought to you by THE ACTRESS !. lyrics from IN THE MOURNING by PARAMORE !

[Ian E. Rodgers]

Therapy was required out of every patient that was admitted into Lucid Manor. Some went once a day, while others once a week. It just depended on the individual's level of “crazy”. And the therapy rooms themselves were an attempt at being a “fun”, “friendly” atmosphere. Compared to the rest of the asylum, it could look like such a place... But compared to anything else that was “fun” and “friendly”, the therapy atmosphere failed at being so. It was impersonal and too clean – nothing friendly at all about the atmosphere. But therapy wasn't supposed to make one “happy”, but to simply encourage patients' strengths. They are strong because they are “Recognizing the need for help and seeking professional treatment!”

Bullshit...

Ian was perfect the way he was and always would be. He didn't need some doctor analyzing every step he took, every conversation he had, every bit he ate to decipher whether Ian was strong or weak. He was perfection. And if it was his choice, he would be back on the streets where he belonged – not locked up in some loony bin. Please. He was too good for that. The only upside for being the only sane patient at a place like this was that the patients were naïve enough to be manipulated and played with like pawns. They would believe anything. Some more than others.

He had told the security officer that he wanted a chat session with his therapist before he left for home. Not entirely true, but it gave Ian some time to be alone away from the idiot officer. So he found himself wandering the halls of the therapy wing, ducking and hiding from nurses and doctors who strolled around him. He dodged into the Group Therapy Room A and locked the door behind him with a soft ”click”. Now should he tempt anything, it would buy him a little time until those morons found the key to unlock the door.

The boy turned around, a small chuckle escaping his throat. And then his eyes fell on a a girl, slumped in one of the chairs in the room. Immediately, Ian's heart skipped a beat. Locked in a room. Alone. With a girl. Ideas swarmed his head, but he quelled them as he approached and put on a debonair smile for her.

”I think it's against the rules to be in here without an escort.”

He came across smooth and charming as he flashed her another brilliant smile and took a seat across the room from her.