Snippet #2073878

Lacross whimpered, feeling the heaviness and fear in her voice. He knew his step-mother never wanted to see her again and his real mother died of illness when he was young, but neither would go as far as to visit and cause torment to their unwanted child.

He started to draw on another piece of paper, drawing life when he was inside the 'civil home'. One small picture of him looking miserable at a dinner table wearing a suit; another picture of him trying to make his case with a woman, somewhat shorter then him who seemed to have a lump in her belly who was clearly not having any of it. The last picture was him seemingly in a padded room, possibly somewhere in the asylum, maddened, bruised and looking delirious from some kind of shot and medication.

His decent into his own personal hell so to speak. He had heard the rumors of his arrival here, knowing that he was locked away for the first month because of his temper and savagery at the time, he had been dubbed 'the beast of St.Joans' and the target of some patients jokes or out right attacks. But even hell had some light in it.

He sighed, sinking lower into the floor, waiting to be let out of recreation for a nap or food. The thought of seeking to the outside and exploring the cave the society was in to see if there was another den made him smirk a little. Some distraction was all he needed.