Headache (TAG: Cecelia)

[justice]

If you want a thing done, do it yourself.

Justice had never understood why people enjoyed cutting themselves. For hours on end he had patiently sat in group therapy sessions, listening to at least one other patient ramble on about how cutting themselves was so great. How it cleared the mind and made everything so much easier. Burning was better. Watching skin crackle and pop in a way that skin never should; it was much better than just slicing it open. Cutting yourself was so uncreative, so boring. And after a while, it probably didn't even hurt that much. With burning, you never got used to it. It hurt every time, leading to better and more accurate results for his tests. Yes, Justice thought that burning was a lot better than cutting, in every single fucking way. These were the thoughts that drifted across his mind like lazy clouds as he walked towards the hospital wing. Thoughts were drifting like that a lot lately, and he hadn't been able to think straight for a few days. He supposed it was because he had been slammed against the counter so hard, but he wasn't really sure about that either. It could also be the recent lack of sleep, or maybe a combination of the two. Whatever happened, Justice's head still hurt, and he wanted to fix it.

He wandered into the hospital wing, looking around for Ryker. No matter how much Justice disliked his doctor, he was the only one the medium profile patient trusted, and therefore didn't want anyone else fixing his damn head. Ryker wasn't there. Of course not, the one time Justice needed the damn cheeseball, he was absent. Sighing, he opened one of the cabinets and searched for some ace bandages. It probably wasn't that serious, but some pressure might help with the killer headache. He wasn't at all trained in this sort of thing, so he might have been looking for the wrong thing entirely, but any of the nurses mulling around would just drug him and have it done with. He didn't like drugs, and therefore had decided to take it into his own hands. Better to be able to think about what he did wrong than be knocked out for a few hours or more. And he could deal with the pain, he always had been able to. He just felt so weak when he was lying helpless on one of the hospital cots, completely unconscious. And surely, that was what was going to happen if he asked any of the nurses for help. It would probably happen if he asked Ryker for help, too, but there was a lower percentage of that. At least, he thought there was. Ryker seemed nice enough, and on occasion actually gave some good advice. Not that Justice would ever tell him that.

After a few minutes, he found the bandages, earning himself quite a few disapproving looks from the nurses. He didn't know why; it wasn't like he was going to choke himself with them or anything. Gingerly, he touched the back of his head, wincing as his fingers brushed the large bump that had formed. It was constantly throbbing, and that was annoying. It was only once he was halfway through with untangling the bandages that he realized he had no idea how to wrap them around his head. He stood there rather helplessly, the half-unrolled bandages lying in his hands. Shit, he hadn't thought that through at all. But of course, that inability was why he was here in the first place. Here as in the hospital wing, not the damned asylum. But if anything, the asylum itself was just making him more crazy.

[cecelia]

When you lose someone
The first thing that goes through your head
Is if you run fast enough
You just might catch up
But it don't work like that

She moved around the straight jacked table and sighed loudly. It had been a long day. A very long day. She stripped off her latex gloves and shoved the blue material in the trash. Cecelia got tired of shoving pills down kids' throats that didn't even need them. In her opinion, they were better off dead. She stepped out of the current room that she was in and her mind drifted away as she leaned against the shiny walls of one of the rooms. When she was younger, she dreamed of find 'the one' someday and it hasn't come as soon as she wished. Her brother had recently come into mind and she had seen a kid in the Manor that has the same facial features as Justice, but Cece kept denying it. He was blond and the last she had seen Just he had black hair. But it was like she could feel his existence in the Manor, but she had just been here. Maybe it's the different patients.

She leaned there, against the wall, for a moment and then stood back up straight. Her black shirt looked worn from the long day and she had a little spot of lunch on her pants. Cecelia closed her eyes and sighed again. Her body was exhausted and when she walked, she could feel her muscles grinding together and she just wanted to lay down and sleep. Giving forth all her strength, she huffed up off the wall. She groaned loudly as she walked out the door. "Hey, Alexis!" she called as she slowly slugged out of the room. She came to find she wasn't there anymore and plopped down on the nearest chair. For some reason Cece couldn't get Justice out of her head. He was there, constantly like a nagging bad habit. Always screaming. She heard someone hustle into the door, but instead of looking she just put her elbow on the desk and rested her head on her hand, eyes closed. Thinking it was one of the nurses, she gave it no thought. Cecelia heard them get into the top cabinet where the bandages were and tear one off. They had fumbled with the roll for quite a few minutes now, so she opened her eyes.

Her eyes grew wide. It was that boy. For a second she just stared and then she stood up and straightened her light blue scrubs. "Er, can I help you?" She couldn't make eye contact, so she looked at his shoes. The feeling of Justice was strong now and she couldn't help but to look back up. It looked so much like him. She wanted to straight up ask him, but she knew it was against the rules. Everything was confidential unless they say other wise. She just stood there, looking like an idiot. Or, should I say, feeling like and idiot.


Character - Cecelia Mori
Tags - Justice Mori
Outfit- www.polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=35778185
Word Count - 480
Notes - Sorry it took so long!

[justice]

Justice tugged at the bandages irritably, his head still hurting and his thought process fuzzy. He snarled softly, tearing off a good sized strip of the bandage and holding it up against the light, trying to figure out what to do with it. It's transparent was his amazingly profound thought. He snorted at himself and laid it down on the counter, looking around warily. He didn't notice anyone, so he let his guard drop, a tired expression sliding onto his face. It made him look much older, yet at the same time it made him look like he was a child again. It was a sadder version of the face he had often worn around his younger sister. He hadn't thought about Cecelia for a while now, ever since he had met Tara. She had sort of occupied his time, like a replacement sister. But then she had been moved to another asylum, and he was all alone again. At least he still had Ryker to talk to. In an odd way, that was comforting, even if he claimed to himself that he didn't like the doctor much. Ryker would probably say that he was in denial, because why could there be a patient that didn't like him? Justice let a small smile play across the corners of his lips, picking up the bandage again. This would be so much easier if he was bald; then he wouldn't have to worry about all his hair getting in the way of the bandage. But he loved his hair, and would definitely never cut it off. He had dyed it when he was in his pre-teens, and he was proud of that. His hair was a sign of resistance, a sign that he hadn't been beaten before and that he wouldn't be beaten now. Except... no one else knew that. Could it really be considered resistance if the ones he was resisting against didn't care? It probably could. A secret resistance or something.

"Can I help you?"

Justice froze, whirling around towards the voice. His face snapped back into its guarded expression, showing no emotion in general. He quickly glanced at the area around the speaker. He couldn't see any weapons drugs, so unless she got up and moved towards the cabinets, it was safe enough. His posture was slightly more relaxed now that he had evaluated the situation, but he still showed no emotion. But he didn't want any help from a fucking nurse. "No, you ca-..." he started to growl, then trailed off in the middle of the sentence. He didn't know why, it just happened. Maybe if his head was clearer he would be able to figure out what the problem was. He turned back to the counter, tugging at the bandage a bit more, but not really accomplishing anything. He couldn't see why he was so nervous around this person. Nervous, yet... familiar. Maybe she had been one of the bullies at his school, or something. That would explain why he seemed to know her, yet be so scared. But, no, it wasn't that he was scared of her. It was more a feeling of guilt, and why would he feel guilty around one of his old tormentors? Looking down at the bandage and seeing that he was pretty much ruining it, he tore off another length of it and turned around, sighing. "Well, can you help me put this on?" he asked, his face stony. "My head got hurt the other day, and I thought pressure would help. I could be wrong, though." That last part was unusual for him. Justice never admitted he was wrong unless he was around one of his best friends. He stiffened a bit, wondering who this lady was.

[cecelia]

When you lose someone
The first thing that goes through your head
Is if you run fast enough
You just might catch up
But it don't work like that

Cecelia's eyes grew wide as the boy turned around and opened his mouth to snap. She quickly stood up to defend herself if needed, but he shut his mouth to rethink his words. Shocking. Her hands trembled as she waited for him to speak again. She had finally placed this young man. She decided to keep her trap closed, she knew he was in here for a reason and she wasn't going to jump to conclusions. Cece blinked the tears from her eyes and raised her eyes to his, his words leaving her eyes flooded with tears.

"Well, can you help me put this on? My head got hurt the other day, and I thought pressure would help. I could be wrong, though."

Some how, her eyes grew bigger. "J-Ju," she stopped herself. No, she thought, He might freak. She got closer to him. All the memories rushed back at once. The fire, the love, the death, the sorrow. All the rough thoughts made her blood run cold and her skin burn. "Well, then let's have us a look," she finally forced herself to say. She picked up the half ruined bandages and took a pair of scissors out of her left pocket. Carefully, she removed the part he had fumbled with and shoved the sharp object back into her pocket. "N-now what happened, first of all." She made herself stand calmly in front of him.
She could feel her skin grow hot under the heat of his gaze. She knew is was him, it had to be. There was almost no doubt. She was just terrified of why he was in here. Could it be the fire? She remembered the night they grew apart and stopped talking. It was horrible. She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to focus her attention back on her long lost brother Cecelia couldn't believe it. She had finally found what she was looking for all these years.

[justice]

Why the hell was this lady so nervous? It wasn't like he was a terrifying monster, or anything. Then their eyes met, and he still didn't recognize her, but the look on her face made him groan in exasperation. Could this person really be a nurse? She seemed too nice for her own good. "Good god, lady, don't cry. It's just a cut on my head," he said, self-centered as usual. This nurse didn't bring any thoughts of Cecelia to his head, even though he was still desperately trying to place her. Justice remembered his little sister as sweet and shy and innocent and... small. This lady definitely wasn't small, hell, she was about an inch taller than Justice, which made him pretty unhappy. He knew his sister as the three-foot-five kid that adored him with all of her heart, not the five-foot-eight nurse that was standing in front of him and crying. Why the hell was she crying?! Justice hadn't done anything, had he? His eyes narrowed and he looked at her, ignoring the little stuttering noise that escaped from her lips. Goddammit, what had he done this time? The staff had always hated him, but he had never made one cry before. He huffed as she seemed to pull herself back together, but he was still confused. Not that he would show any confusion, just annoyance. Because there was plenty of that lurking in his mind, too.

"Nothing much happened," he said irritably, watching her face for any signs of more tears. Justice wasn't normally fazed by anything, even being beat up constantly, but tears... he hated them. Hated the noise of sobbing and the sight of tears making someone's cheeks wet. he had seen and heard too much of that in the hospital... right before his family had heard his story. When they had heard how he had left his sister in the burning forest, the tears had turned to hatred. It was a paranoia of his that it would happen again, that everyone he loved would turn against him for something he hadn't meant to do... and it was why he distanced himself. Why he pretended not to care, when he really did. He didn't make any friends because he was afraid that they would leave him or turn on him, start hating him just like his family had done. He couldn't bear that if it happened again... but he didn't know why he was thinking of this now, next to this stranger. "I mean, my head was slammed into the edge of the counter a few times... and the wall," he continued, almost as if he was admitting something shameful. It almost was shameful to him, after all. His apathetic and uncaring personality conflicted with the fact that he was constantly being hurt by others, and he didn't like to admit that to other people. It surprised him that he wasn't telling this nurse a lie, like he had done so many times to so many other nurses when he was hurt. If she laughed or showed any sign of amusement, even pity, he might just punch her in the face for something that wasn't his fault.

He glared at her, mouth hanging open slightly; the only sign of his confusion. "You know, you remind me a lot of my sister," he blurted out suddenly. Well, now she was suddenly reminding him of Cecelia. He wondered what had changed to make it that way.