Galen Blare (real name unknown)'s Story

Few people at the institution actually knew who Death was. To most, she was just a nurse who was around a lot more often than the others. She was the doctors secret weapon, they thought that they controlled her. It was funny actually, since she was the one who planted the whole idea in their minds. But, they were men, she would let them have their way for now. When it came time they would see that, well they never had any leverage on her and really, they couldn't have stopped her if she wanted to kill them all right then. Don't worry, she didn't. The patients in the institution were important to her, especially one man. Unfortunately she had gotten here a little too late, and most of them were already brainwashed. There was still a select few though, that she had hopes for. Two mages, two werewolves, a shifter, and a vampire.

There was another man too, but that was something a bit different.

Currently, she was walking the hallways and knocking twice on each door, as per the usual morning wake up call. They all had about ten minutes then, to get up and get ready before heading down to the breakfast hall. After breakfast they were free to do as they pleased until lunch. Though instead of going back to free time, after lunch they were paired up for one on one. Usually the mages were put together, then the werewolves. Since there was currently only one shifter and one vampire, they were paired up. This was the time they got to sort of bond, talk about whatever. Though they were encouraged to talk about their recent 'episodes', in case they thought they were actually supernatural again. They always sent one of the nurses or doctors to sit with the "special" case, Galen Blare. She was usually quick to volunteer, since she had long since deemed him the one that she would corrupt. It was her goal to remind these creatures that they weren't normal.

Knocking on the last door, she turned back around and headed towards the breakfast area.

The two knocks were a welcome interruption to Galen's morning. For the past eight hours, he had stared at the wall as still as a corps, barely even breathing. he was not even sure if he was breathing at all, or whether he had even blinked once the entire time. Of course his psychologist would insist that he was breathing, and that he had to have blinked. but Galen had no memory of either, which he found odd considering he remembered everything. He had done this every night for a week, and did not feel the least bit tired. His Physician said that he suffered from an advanced form of insomnia, but he would fall asleep eventually. Galen was not so sure. He felt as if he never needed to sleep. So when the two knocks came, he jumped off of the bed, and all but ran out of the door. He hated that room with a burning passion. Mainly because he had to sit in his bed and stare at the wall for eight hours every night.

When he saw Castiel, he nearly smiled, wanting to be glad to see her; that oh so familiar face. But then he remembered. this was not the woman he loved. His psychologist had been extremely adamant about that. Galen's fiance died several years ago in a car accident is the middle of a storm. First, he went into a psychotic depression, and convinced himself that his fiance did not die, but was death itself. He came up with an elaborate story that told of him first dying, then meeting a beautiful woman named Death, then finally becoming immortal. He had immersed himself in this fantasy so deeply that he had a full recollection of the past 6,000 years of history. This was easily explained by him having a masters degree in world history. Even now after three years of intense psychological therapy, he struggled with the memories, and had to constantly convince himself that they were fake. Now he was at a second phase of the fantasy, which he was at least becoming more realistic, and was projecting his fiance onto this woman, the only new employee since his arrival. Every time he looked at her, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, and hold her, swearing to never let go again. In fact, this was exactly what he did the first day he laid eyes on her at the institution. But after that, once they had pried him off of her and somehow forced him into a straight jacket as he was mercilessly attacking anyone who laid their hands on either of them, he slowly accepted that she was not his love. Even now, just like with the memories, he struggled to convince himself that she was someone else. A stranger whom he had frightened and possibly traumatized. He then wondered why she was always so eager to be the one to listen to him during the conversational therapy. he theorized that she was developing Nightingale Syndrome, but then remembered that he was the one with the mental illness. Not her.

He grimaced as he walked past her, nodding politely as he headed to the cafeteria. if sleeping hours were his most hated time of day, then meal time came in an extremely close second. The problem was just as he never felt a need to sleep, he also was never hungry, or thirsty. Even when he refused to eat, he never lost energy, and was never dehydrated. He only ate because his psychologist insisted that he was subconsciously willing himself not to feel the symptoms, even though they were there. The Nutritionist said that he was malnourished, and on the verge of starvation, but he never felt any different than normal. When he did eat, it was because something tasted good, not because he needed to eat it. He slowly made his way through the serving line and got the minimal amount of food required, while at the same time as many pancakes and sausage links they would give him. He sat down in the back corner of the room so he could see everyone who came in and out of the room. Another psychological problem he presented. He displayed all of the symptoms of a shell shocked soldier with 20 years worth of PTSD. But the problem was that he was never in the military, or experienced anything even remotely similar. He was a Wallstreet business man, his stress was all papers. nothing physical or traumatic, other than his Fiance's death, which he already suffered separate symptoms from.

And such was his life. Confusion, self deception, mystery, and chaos. He glanced around the room to the other patients. Most old, but a few new. He was mildly interested in them, all suffered something similar as him. They thought they were magical or unnatural creatures. Oddly enough, he always knew what each of them were when he saw them. That one is a Wearwolf, Vampire, Elemental, Harpy, Fox, ext. Of the new ones there was a Light Mage, Werewolf, and Vampire present. The others would most likely arrive shortly.

Aiden flinched awake when the knock sounded on his door then groaned, he was finally able to get some rest after a whole night of tossing and turning. Actually he doubted that he got any rest at all, because although he kept counting invisible sheep and the temperature of the room was a little cold, but otherwise manageable and even though the mattress was alright too -not too hard but not too comfy either, he felt like it was filled with tiny pebbles and each position his body took was more uncomfortable than the other, he kept imagining invisible eyes staring at him from everywhere in the dark, he heard the faintest of sounds that were probably made on the other side of the globe, and only by the time the sun rays were seeping in through the curtains, was he able to slowly -the agonizing kind of slowly- fall into the embrace of shallow slumber and his brain had finally calmed down and recognized that his body was terribly drained.
He sighed and kicked his feet off his bed. He felt tired, sluggish even as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, there was a ringing noise in both of his ears that he tried to shake off, he'll probably need coffee to be able to fully function today, he yawned and stretched his arms over his head, 'make that a LOT of coffee.'

By some miracle he managed to make his way to the dining area without falling asleep on the way, he rubbed his eyes again and bit back a mighty yawn. Most of his fellow prisoners were here before him it seemed, there was Greg sitting by himself looking a bit grumpy 'nice to know that I'm not suffering alone', the New Guy and Jessica where sitting at another table, he also spotted Galen, Luke, Mariah and the nurse Castiel.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again, I hope we don't have to do this whole socializing thing again. He let out a snort at the thought of "socializing". He then walked to Greg's table and took the furthest seat away from him and placed his head with his arms as a cushion on the table then closed his eyes.

"Good morning"
Very slowly, and most certainly reluctantly, Jez opened her eyes a little, the light of the cafeteria rushing into her vision and causing them to close instantly. She jerked upwards once more, and rubbed them lightly as if she was still tired- which she was for the record- and looked up at the person who had just confronted her with the friendly greeting. To Jez’s guess, it was, indeed, a guy; the gender which she isn’t compatible with at all. He was a slender yet lean boy, who was practically four inches taller than her; which, from the school she went to, was a rarity. In fact, now that she looked around the cafeteria- which filled up quickly to her disliking- half of the people here where taller than her, minus one or two guys and girls.

He was probably the first person to actually speak to her- or at least from she’s knowledgeable of- and probably was new since she hadn’t seen him around. As much as she wanted to say hi back, even in this situation where a friend would probably be her greatest achievement, Jez couldn’t bring herself to actually say the words to a guy.
Her mouth slowly opened, as if she was going to say something but it closed quickly and before she knew it, her head shot down towards the table. She bit her bottom lip to try to hide the embarrassment of her incompetence to speak to a boy; with the sudden embarrassment and shock, a slight blush stained her cheeks and the anger was only drowned out by the rumbles of her stomach.

Luke walked off as expected, leaving Cas alone with her bottle of water and an apple with barely a bite taken out of it. It was times like this that she really didn't know what to do, it wasn't like she had friends here. The nurses and doctors were kind to her, but she could never be sure if it was because she was subconsciously forcing them to be that way, or because they just hadn't caught on that she pretty much ran this place. Of course that was all on the sidelines, the rest of the patients still saw her as just the nurse, at least she hoped so. Thoughts of what could happen if they found out about her plan floated around her head all the time, but it was unlikely.

Deciding to take a chance, Cas pushed herself back onto her feet. After throwing the apple away, she moved silently- and when she said silently, she meant it. Death was great at disguising her movements -over to Galen Blare's table. Gently placing her water down before sitting herself, she offered the man across from her as soft a smile as she could manage. The last time she had spoken to him was almost a week ago, since she had been too busy to sit with him and talk. "I hope you don't mind me sitting here," she started carefully. "I doubt any of the other patients would take well to me trying to talk with them, but I figured you might be a bit more comfortable with it."