The gold sun spilling onto the wall danced across the otherwise plain room, illuminating the figure lying sleeping on the bed. He made a soft noise as he sat up, sleep interrupted by the morning sun. He pulled his covers around him, suspiciously eyeing the room. Isaac still didn't feel... fully comfortable at BRINK, even after 2 years. The blank and cold walls of the establishment never felt as if they were forgiving, leeching warmth from the patients there. It always felt like they were watching, which he supposed they probably were, he hadn't checked for cameras in a long time. There was no chance they'd let them run riot without constant supervision. The bed shifted under his weight as he moved towards the edge, dangling his legs over the side. The room around him was oddly cleanly like no one had lived in it despite Isaac's presence there for 2 years. The only clue as to the type of person that lived there was the mountain of books piled neatly in one corner next to a beanbag.
He pulled himself to his feet, standing in front of his mirror, running a lazy hand through his hair. He examined his reflection, scrutinising himself. Everything seemed more stable today. He finally gave up trying to find an issue with the day and dragged himself for a shower begrudgingly before dressing in a rather plain grey shirt and black jeans. He usually tried not to attract too much attention but it wasn't too obvious, there was no real need to dress outrageously when everyday you saw the same people.
The sun had risen considerably since it woke him, the rays brightening the usually dim room. A quick check of his alarm clock confirmed it was probably a great idea to get breakfast. Isaac dropped to his knees on the floor, hands groping under the bed until... yes... there. He withdrew a well-loved black book, an equally well loved (and well chewed) pencil poking out of the spine. His sketchbook. It was almost done. Isaac didn't really want to think about what would happen when it was finished. He wasn't a fan of endings.
His first stop of the day was the common room, as it always was. Isaac padded down the quiet corridors, eyes tracing the pattern on the floor. He could hear the soft muffled sound of a voice off in a room, however that wasn't unusual for someone to be talking to themselves. It was understandable here, they all understood each other's illnesses.
He lowered his eyes as he entered, his fingers tightening around his sketchbook. The smell of coffee drifting throughout the hallways had alerted him to the fact that someone was there before him. He glanced up quickly to put a face to the smell. Natalie. He lowered his head again as he headed for the fruit bowl, rifling through it. He settled for an apple before grabbing a breakfast bar. It was usually wise to have a lighter breakfast at Brink, especially if you were on new meds and most of the time you were. Isaac tried to be on the safe side.
He curled himself on a seat, chewing on the breakfast bar with his sketchbook balanced on his lap. He carefully folded the wrapper, listening intently to the soft crackle as he flattened it against his sketchbook. Mornings were usually like this, relaxed and quiet. Isaac loved the repetition of everyday. It was one of the more enjoyable aspects about living in the clinic, it let him feel more attached to the world around him. When he was satisfied with his makeshift origami, he began on his apple.
He pulled himself to his feet, standing in front of his mirror, running a lazy hand through his hair. He examined his reflection, scrutinising himself. Everything seemed more stable today. He finally gave up trying to find an issue with the day and dragged himself for a shower begrudgingly before dressing in a rather plain grey shirt and black jeans. He usually tried not to attract too much attention but it wasn't too obvious, there was no real need to dress outrageously when everyday you saw the same people.
The sun had risen considerably since it woke him, the rays brightening the usually dim room. A quick check of his alarm clock confirmed it was probably a great idea to get breakfast. Isaac dropped to his knees on the floor, hands groping under the bed until... yes... there. He withdrew a well-loved black book, an equally well loved (and well chewed) pencil poking out of the spine. His sketchbook. It was almost done. Isaac didn't really want to think about what would happen when it was finished. He wasn't a fan of endings.
His first stop of the day was the common room, as it always was. Isaac padded down the quiet corridors, eyes tracing the pattern on the floor. He could hear the soft muffled sound of a voice off in a room, however that wasn't unusual for someone to be talking to themselves. It was understandable here, they all understood each other's illnesses.
He lowered his eyes as he entered, his fingers tightening around his sketchbook. The smell of coffee drifting throughout the hallways had alerted him to the fact that someone was there before him. He glanced up quickly to put a face to the smell. Natalie. He lowered his head again as he headed for the fruit bowl, rifling through it. He settled for an apple before grabbing a breakfast bar. It was usually wise to have a lighter breakfast at Brink, especially if you were on new meds and most of the time you were. Isaac tried to be on the safe side.
He curled himself on a seat, chewing on the breakfast bar with his sketchbook balanced on his lap. He carefully folded the wrapper, listening intently to the soft crackle as he flattened it against his sketchbook. Mornings were usually like this, relaxed and quiet. Isaac loved the repetition of everyday. It was one of the more enjoyable aspects about living in the clinic, it let him feel more attached to the world around him. When he was satisfied with his makeshift origami, he began on his apple.