Post by Shannon L. Gray on Sept 28, 2011 21:04:10 GMT -5
Shannon laid on his single mattress bed staring at the ceiling. The newly acquired abrasion on his left forearm was still moist and bloody from a night of picking and scratching. During the night he had chewed down all his fingernails in a failed attempt to keep himself from scratching. It was probably accurate to say that he got as much sleep as any other patient in Lucid Manor. It had been a while since he was forced to sleep alone and the isolation unnerved him. He was constantly thinking of Nathan and already worrying of how he was going to get through the day. It was a silly thing to worry about. He had to remind himself that the people here were getting paid to take care of him. It was their job to do so. He could follow a preset schedule designed just for him. Everything would be alright.
The first block of his schedule was breakfast. Easy enough. Getting out of bed, he changed into simple clothing. His wardrobe consisted of pastel colored v-neck shirts and denim jeans. Kept with his personal grooming items was a small supply of medical gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment that the staff allowed him to have. For years Shannon has been dressing his own excoriation wounds. And truth be told, he was rather embarrassed to be asking for a nurse every time he scratched his skin open. After carefully caring for the abrasion, he left his room and headed for the dining hall. Mornings were usually the best time of day. It was like a fresh start, a chance to change things. The anxieties from the previous night seemed to have nearly vanished as the lanky man practically bounced down the hall. It wasn't that he was excited to eat, but more that he was anticipating any sort of human interaction.
Skipping in through the doorway, he stopped to greet the nurses and security standing by. He told them about his fresh wound and held up his arm as proof of his capability to care for it. It was a few minutes before they told him that, even though they enjoy talking to him, that he should go get something to eat. Like a child, he nodded and pranced off to follow their instructions. He choose the first thing he saw, a rather fresh looking apple and a glass of water. Not bothering with a tray, he stepped away from the assembly line and towards a table. It was early; the room was quiet and bleak with little movement or conversation being made. As he took a seat, he looked down at the apple in his hand. His stomach desired it more than anything else. With careful precision, he bit into its green flesh and pulled out a decent size chunk of its core. "Delicious!" He declared with a smile of satisfaction on his face.
The first block of his schedule was breakfast. Easy enough. Getting out of bed, he changed into simple clothing. His wardrobe consisted of pastel colored v-neck shirts and denim jeans. Kept with his personal grooming items was a small supply of medical gauze, tape, and antibiotic ointment that the staff allowed him to have. For years Shannon has been dressing his own excoriation wounds. And truth be told, he was rather embarrassed to be asking for a nurse every time he scratched his skin open. After carefully caring for the abrasion, he left his room and headed for the dining hall. Mornings were usually the best time of day. It was like a fresh start, a chance to change things. The anxieties from the previous night seemed to have nearly vanished as the lanky man practically bounced down the hall. It wasn't that he was excited to eat, but more that he was anticipating any sort of human interaction.
Skipping in through the doorway, he stopped to greet the nurses and security standing by. He told them about his fresh wound and held up his arm as proof of his capability to care for it. It was a few minutes before they told him that, even though they enjoy talking to him, that he should go get something to eat. Like a child, he nodded and pranced off to follow their instructions. He choose the first thing he saw, a rather fresh looking apple and a glass of water. Not bothering with a tray, he stepped away from the assembly line and towards a table. It was early; the room was quiet and bleak with little movement or conversation being made. As he took a seat, he looked down at the apple in his hand. His stomach desired it more than anything else. With careful precision, he bit into its green flesh and pulled out a decent size chunk of its core. "Delicious!" He declared with a smile of satisfaction on his face.