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Harlem Faye

"You want to know what's wrong with me? People like you".

0 · 229 views · located in Utah

a character in “Brat Camp: Turn-About Ranch”, originally authored by HadoukenLSD, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

Name: Harlem Faye

Age: 17

Country: Australia

Reason for being send to Turn-About Ranch?: Harlem got into drugs & alcohol at about 13, first only pot and drinking on the weekend, then acid and heavy drinking and now he's into heroin. He became socially withdrawn and stopped going to school, spending his time with only a select few other people, a small group as deep into the world of drugs as he was. He eventually became rather depressed and after a deliberate and near-fatal overdose on heroin, his parents had had enough.

[b]Picture/description:
Harlem is 5'11 tall, has a mess of shaggy, dark brown hair with a copper tinge to it. He used to dye bits of his hair bright colors, but hasn't really been up to maintaining physical appearance as of late. He's very thin, his cheeks hollow, the bones prominent. His eyes are a deep brown, yet look almost like amber in the sunlight. He usually dresses in flannel shirts, leather jackets, white tees and skinny-leg jeans. He also almost has a beanie on. He has a silver ring on the right side of his nose and tattoo of a black fox on his left hipbone.

Likes/dislikes: Harlem likes poetry, music (his favorite bands are The Smiths, The Velvet Underground and The Smashing Pumpkins), and his dog Cerberus. He dislikes his dad and feeling like he's being interrogated. He's the kind of guy who likes to keep to himself.

History: Harlem's mother and father have been separated since he was about 13... well, around the time the problems started. Harlem has never gotten on with his father, his dad expecting him follow in his tradition: Play football in high school and make a lot of money. Harlem wasn't interested in any of that. His father always drank a lot and could get kind of aggressive when he was drunk, so Harlem never understood why he was such a bad guy for drinking when that was all his father seemed to do. His dad said Harlem's love of poetry and music made him gay. His father like to use the fact that Harlem wasn't screwing every girl in school as proof of this fact. Never mind that maybe Harlem had greater goals in life then that... He could always hear his mother and father on the phone, talking about him like he was a burden. At one point, he felt hopeful because they were discussing having Harlem go live with his mother. But no. He can't believe he's being sent away to some kind of boot-camp, when in reality, he blames his father for making him feel like this!

Other: I shall turn around my behavior.

So begins...

Harlem Faye's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Harlem took a seat by the fire, observing the other people sitting around him. They looked like a bunch of freaks. Sure as hell, they'd be just as screwed up as him; or worse.
He didn't understand why he'd been sent to this godawful place; he'd never hurt anybody in his life. At least, not that he knew of. Oh sure, he may have hurt his poor mother for being such a miserable piece of shit, or burdened his old man for being a dead-end loser. Yeah, yeah. Drugs are bad and you shouldn't abuse alcohol. Whatever. Did his mother not think she'd hurt him by abandoning him with that abusive asshole who, for biological reasons only, he called his father so she could go off and live her wonderful little life off in the big city?
Probably the worst of all this was he was informed he would not be allowed to have music. No music? What kind of evil is it to deny somebody one of the few beautiful things in life? Not to mention, he was still in the agonizing wrath of withdrawals... He kept twitching like a mother-fucker and his mood was exceptionally irritable. God, he felt like he was being cut up from the inside out, and he couldn't even have a smoke to help him deal with it.
He was over-thinking his suicide attempt now. He really wished he had been more successful, now. If he had, he would not be in this horrid situation. Then again, if he hadn't done it, maybe he wouldn't be here either. It was kind of the last straw for his parents. Nah, he no doubt would of ended up here anyway, otherwise jail. Or the morgue.
He pulled his knees up to his chest, hugging them close to his body, trying to make himself invisible. He really wanted to get away from here. He really wanted a fix. He'd had difficulties sleeping since his last hit, which was four days ago, and his legs ached like crazy. He heard somewhere that these symptoms would disperse after five or six days, but he didn't think he could last that long. He wondered if there was a way to get some smuggled in here. Was he even allowed visitors? How the hell long would he have to stay here anyway? He rocked back and fourth slowly, burying his face against his knees.
"God, let this be over with", he muttered to himself.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Matvei Markovich Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Mike Stinster Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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#, as written by Leon21
Matvei Markovich


Well, this was pleasant. Not. Matvei pursed his lips, looking around the small camp. Now, why had he chosen this place over jail? Jail certainly seemed like a far nicer alternative. At least you have fairly decent rooms there. The wooden cabins did not seem to be very nice. There were probably spiders and all sorts of other pests living in them. With his luck, he'd probably get bitten by a black widow on his first night here. And, at least in jail there were people who were fun to manipulate. Judging by the teens who were already gathered there, Matvei decided he'd be lucky if some of them were able to form coherent sentences, much less pose any sort of challenge to manipulate.

"Can you please take off these handcuffs, love?" he murmured, speaking just loud enough for the probation officer standing behind him to hear. He still wasn't sure why that man was here anyways. It wasn't like either of them were enjoying being here, after all. Did they not trust him?

The handcuffs and probation officer immediately answered that question.

Matvei tilted his head slightly as he heard only a grunt from the officer in reply. Standing at 6'3", he was a couple of inches taller than the officer. Then again, Matvei was usually a couple inches taller than just about everyone, something which he liked. "Really, hun, the grunts aren't that flattering. At least try to form decent sentences. I know you're intelligent enough to do that. Now, darling, please take these handcuffs off. It's not like I can get away if you do. The security here would probably have me lying on the ground with a bullet in my leg if I so much as glanced at the exit. Besides, these handcuffs are becoming rather embarrassing. They don't suit me."

There was a satisfying click as the officer unlocked the cuffs, taking them off of Matvei's wrists. He brought his arms to the front of his body, stretching his shoulders and rubbing his wrists, his lips curling into a slight smile at the corners.

"Thank you, love," he chirruped, giving the officer a peck on the cheek. He couldn't help but laugh at the blush that appeared on the officer's face. "What, did they forget to warn you about my habits?" he said. The officer did not reply, and instead shoved him forward, clearly deciding that they were walking too slowly.

"What charming manners you have," Matvei muttered angrily, his pleasant facade suddenly gone. He stalked forwards, heading towards the circle of cabins. Arriving there, there was an exchange of paperwork between a man standing there and his officer, and then a stack of clothing was shoved into his arms along with a gruff command to get changed in one of the cabins and then enter the circle. "Good grief, these are hideous. Did the concept of fashion sense not reach this place or something?"

The glares he got were enough to shut him up. "Fine, fine, I'll go change."

A few minutes later, when he walked out of the cabin, his officer had disappeared. The man who had been standing by the cabin pushed him over to the circle. Matvei stumbled slightly, shooting a glare back at the man once he regained his balance. "I can understand English, you know. You didn't have to push me," he muttered under his breath in Russian, his mother tongue.

There were already a few people sitting in the circle by the time he got there. He sat down on one of the stones, scanning the small group. "Well, hello," he started amiably. "Do we all want to introduce ourselves, perhaps? I'm Matvei Markovich. I apologize for my hideous clothing; normally I would be wearing something that flattered my appearance much more. They just don't have much fashion sense here, it seems. Who are you guys? Why are you here?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alison Keegan Character Portrait: Matvei Markovich Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Mike Stinster Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Alison Keegan

She had assumed that this 'Roundy Round-Up Wackadoo Ranch,' or whatever it was called, would be miserable, boring, and smell like horse shit. Well, it seemed that she had been completely right.
After being sent on a plane all the way over to America, she had been brought by some taxi driver - obviously, her parents couldn't be assed to ask her rich relatives to drive her there, or they were too ashamed of her to - to the ranch, whilst he looked at her as if she had just told him that all she wanted for Christmas was a pair of crocks. So, not very pleasing.

When she walked into the wooden cabin, there were a few people - or delinquents - sitting on wooden benches by a camp fire. One of them, a male with a Russian accent, was speaking; "-we all want to introduce ourselves, perhaps? I'm Matvei Markovich. I apologize for my hideous clothing; normally I would be wearing something that flattered my appearance much more. They just don't have much fashion sense here, it seems. Who are you guys? Why are you here?"

"We're here because we're just some delinquent shits that need to be bored out of their minds in order to learn the goodness of being kind," she said from where she had been leaning against the door frame. She began to walk towards the camp fire as she continued, "Alison Keegan at your service." She looked down at her joke for an outfit, which she had changed into at the airport, and had to agree with him.

He had a tall and willowy build, with long, almost white hair that hung in curls around his pale head, this almost making him look like a female. His icy cold blue eyes looked like they could stare into your soul. Allie narrowed her eyes slightly as she tried to read him up. She sat down between this Russian guy, Mattie, or whatever his name was, and the blonde one that had just began to speak, "If you fancy my name, it is Baby."

Allie had to admit, she almost laughed at that one. Baby? Wow, her parents were very creative. We just had a baby, what will we call it? I know - Baby! She was assuming that it was just a nickname she had given herself. Allie furrowed her eyebrows slightly as she took in yet another person to share the ranch with. This girl was taller than Allie, though that wasn't saying much. She had thick, blonde hair that fell down past her shoulders, with a pink and purple streak through it. Allie decided she was probably one of those partying, drinking, smoking scene/emo girls. What was the difference between scene and emo, anyway? Was it that scene people were happy, and emo were sad or something? Allie had no idea.

The next person was also female, with a slender build and brunette hair. She was quite tan, too. Allie hadn't any idea why she was here - she looked like all those prissy cheerleaders in her old school. Though, then again, Allie probably didn't look liken someone that was probably insane.

Next was a guy with ruffled brown hair, who looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks due to his hollowed out cheek bones, and the fact that his ribs were showing through his clothing. She decided that he probably had an abusive home of some sort, as they either didn't feed him or he ran away from home, according to his appearance, though he may be anorexic, possibly.

Next was a very masculine female, someone who Allie immediately decided that she didn't want to mess with, even if she had made a habit of it. She looked like some sort of stone statue, rigid in place, and even sitting down Allie could see she would loom over her. There were tons of reasons why she could be here, none of them good.
Then again, Allie was basing this all off their appearances, following stereotypes, so she couldn't be sure.

A guy next, with black hair in a sort of emo style, as Allie liked to call it. Another tall one, too, probably ten or so inches taller than Allie. At least he didn't look very muscular, he looked more withdrawn, someone who preferred his own company.

The final person in their 'rebel squad' as Allie had decided to name them was also a male, with dark brown hair. She didn't like how he seemed to already be comfortable around the rest of the group - as did some of the other members of their little squad. Though maybe that as just jealousy, ever since she was little, Allie had always felt uncomfortable around strangers, even if she did hide it under a carefree persona.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alison Keegan Character Portrait: Matvei Markovich Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Mike Stinster Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Harlem raised his head at the sound of an angry voice. The...female... that was speaking was anything but attractive. 'Man, that is one big bitch' he mused to himself. He didn't want to seem like a wimp or nothing, but he would certainly try avoiding a fight with that one. Not that fighting was generally his thing, but he'd be especially fervent about not pissing off her. Then again, wasn't it just a week or so ago he'd been attempting to kill himself? Well here's the opportunity! Bam. Suicide. Right there.
He looked around at all the other people who had since joined around the fire. Yep, sure enough, they were a bunch of weirdos. Like the overly-masculine looking female with the horrible accent if that wasn't enough.
Some blonde chick... wait, no, dude. He faintly recalled somebody complaining about fashion and figured it must be that guy. He didn't really think it was right, that guy looking so damn pretty. No guy should look that damn pretty, and what was he, a fucking elf? What could such a pretty little guy like that possibly done wrong to end up in a place like this?
Some scene chick with the world's stupidest name... Scene kids. They had to be some of the most vain people on earth. This chick sure didn't look like she had much substance to her.
The other two girls looked pretty harmless. What the hell could girls like that do that would result in them being sent here? From what he had gathered, this place was pretty hardcore. What, petty theft? Skipping school? He couldn't imagine it being worse then that, and those things didn't seem bad enough to be sent here about.
There was some emo kid and another guy. In his eyes, the only one who looked like they really belonged in this place was that butch-as-fuck chick. Yeah, he didn't think she belonged anywhere else other then jail...or an asylum. Somewhere with bars.
Harlem's body was still in agony. He wondered how long it would take for something to happen. Was he just meant to sit here all day, watching weirdos interact? What was the lesson he was meant to learning? If this was all he had to do, well, it was pretty shit but he'd imagined it to be a bit more brutal.
Maybe he could sneak off round about now. Nah, some of those guards who'd brought the others in were still hanging about. Man, he just wanted a fix and then he could deal with this shit, maybe. Even just a smoke and this pointlessness would be a bit more bearable.
"What the fuck is even happening here?" he said, growing impatient. He doubted much of a response from the weirdos around him. If he didn't know, chances are they wouldn't either.
His breathing was getting more intense as his craving peaked. His agitation was making his head throb. He stood up impulsively, scanning his surroundings for escape, and not finding a solution, kicked the seat he had been sitting on. Spontaneity can be very stupid. His foot and ankle suffered for his rash actions but the pain just made him angrier. He sad back down, gripping his hair, near-on tearing it out. This was sheer torture, and pointless torture at that. He didn't even see no fucking horses.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alison Keegan Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Baby had shut her eyes, her fingers slowly circling her temples in a massaging way. She had already gotten a headache. If these people weren't giving her one already, she was suffering from the lack of meth and tobacco in her system. The other teens around her did not seem all too much for her to handle, but her eyes flew open when she was addressed by a masculine tone across the way from her.
"Baby? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," The voice rang out.
The blonde girl sighed half-heartedly. "It's not like I picked the bloody shite." She said, rolling her eyes. She wondered where the lesbian, male resembling girl got off. She was just reeking of problems, but she did not bother Baby in the slightest. No one did. And if the brute of a girl were planning to break her neck she would stand her ground and welcome whatever would come.
I fuckin' hate my name. She growled inside her head. She recalled once when she had just gotten off of the bus from school - when she was still allowed there, that is - and had been heading home when another group of kids her age had pushed her down. The lead male had stuck his own thumb in his mouth and began sucking on it dramatically.
"Wah! Wah!" He had mocked. "The little slag is going to run home to her mummy like that Baby that she is." Quickly following, they had begun to jump the small girl leaving her to limp home with a black eye, a puffy cheek, a cracked rib, and a twisted ankle from trying to be dragged.
Her mother had hurried over to her with a warm towel and had begun dabbing her eye with it. "Just brilliant, Baby. What have you gotten yourself into this time?" She had complained.
"It's not my fault!" Baby defended. "It was those tosser's that caused this." Her mother had brought her palm in to swing on her already swollen face.
"Where on Earth did you learn such foul language as that? You're really going to the dogs, babe." Her mother had turned away and began to complain to her father, 'That ankle biter of a daughter of yours is really something.'
Baby was so furious she had grabbed a fork and had surged it into her mother's waist. "Piss of, ya tallop! It's your blooming fault for naming me this disgrace!"
Her mother had been pregnant at the time and she had done damages to her uterus causing her mother to miscarriage. She had been only fourteen at the time.
Baby pulled herself out of her memories. From what she could tell by the judgmental looks she was receiving she was already being judge by her appearance. Probably being called, scene or emo or whatever the kids called it these days. She could not stand labels, but that was all people were good for was placing a certain title to a certain way people were or how they dressed or what they liked.
Baby scowled and pulled the red hood up over her head, repeating the motion of pulling the sleeves past the palms of her hands.
Everyone was getting so acquainted with one another. A male that had previously been screaming for everyone to put a sock in it was now greeting another. Pretty bipolar in my opinion. She thought to herself. Another male that was only sitting two people from her had kicked over his own perch and now seemed to be in pain. The blonde merely looked at him. She felt bad. He seemed to be suffering in his head worse than she was. At least she could slightly control her impulses. Even though every fiber of her being was pushing her to find the nearest sharp object and jab it into the buff girl's eye.
She stayed quiet, though resting her chin on her curled up fingers, her arms resting on her knees that were brought as close to her as possible.
She would have given anyone the clothes on her back for a few squares. Alas, she doubted that they even allowed anyone else into the camp that was not there to be tortured and forced to care for giant dogs with hooves.
She looked past the other 'campers' and observed the cabin, taking in every aspect, as well as anything that could turn into a make-shift weapon if need be. There was a possibility, though, that they had 'round the clock room surveillance to keep sure that there was no one up 'past their bedtime'. But if she studied their usual routines, maybe she could figure something out.
After sizing up the room she looked around the group again and shook her head, but the movement would have hardly been noticeable to the human eye it was such a small action. She had a feeling that not even one person would go out of their way to care about anything that she had to say at all. The only people that somewhat seemed like her was the spazzing guy and the other dude who also had a few piercings of his own. Maybe the girl with the more of a bronze hair color who had just recently entered, but other than that...

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Harlem looked to the emo looking guy who had spoken to him. "Look, man, I don't mean to be rude, but unless you can get me a fix, or get me out of here, I don't give a fuck who you are". Maybe it was rude. He wasn't usually like this, it was just these fucking withdrawals. Well, okay, at no point in his life would he be happy to be here, would he find it fine and dandy to be forced to participate in this weird horse shit. And sure, he actually doubted he would even acknowledge any of this people if they were anywhere else, but normally he would be at least a little more approachable. Certainly wouldn't be kicking chairs, that's for sure.
He smirked at the scene chick with the absurdly stupid name's crude response. Well, fuck. The chick's around here certainly couldn't be described as 'ladies', by any means.
His hands still pulled at his hair. This was one of life's funny things. In this situation, when his head was throbbing like mad to the point he would gladly die to have it over with, all he could do was rip at his hair. It was basically automatic, and yet, it seem just about the most stupid thing one could do to attempt nursing such an ailment.
He really wished he had his music. Music made everything much better. Being able to drown out this lot's useless jibber-jabber would be a good start. It was doing his head in. I mean, seriously, couldn't his folks wait until he'd kicked the h. before they shipped him off here? Couldn't they at least give him somewhere a little more homely to be while he got clean?
Yeah. That was probably his fault. His dad had been very lenient (especially for such a fuckhead of a man) and allowed Harlem to get off the stuff before sending him here, even though he'd nearly offed himself on it. But you know, he couldn't resist the weightless, sweet temptation of heroin when it only required him jumping from his window and walking a block to get it. Yeah, after the second time he did it, he ruined his chances of a peaceful comedown.
But come on. This should be illegal. You can't just deprive somebody of something which has basically become the bane of their existence, can you?
He needed to stop thinking about it, needed to distract himself, but he was in absolutely no mood to engage in idle chatter with an all manner of delinquents.
Maybe they were all just in here like him, for drug use. Nah. The others didn't seem to be writhing in knots or sweating from the inside out. What, then? He wouldn't put violence past the butch chick.
Harlem was going to make sure he was away from that chick by at least 5 meters at all times. Even that didn't seem enough. Nothing like a overbuilt, foul-mouthed, psychotic dyke to scare the suicide out of a suicidal person. Harlem's new middle name was optimistic! Okay, well, not quite... Not even close.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alison Keegan Character Portrait: Matvei Markovich Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Mike Stinster Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Serenity watched the group with a harsh glare, her fingers curling themselves around the edges of her shirt. A nervous habit. They really weren't the most social bunch. Despite her violence issues, she really wasn't that aggressive towards others. It was only when they annoyed her that she would 'unleash her wrath', as he mother called it. Every little curse or dig, every little flinch and movement made her tighten her grip on her shirt. It was kind of like being surrounded by a bunch of loonies.. Actually, it was exactly like being around a bunch of loonies.

They were communicating alright, but it wasn't exactly pleasant for anyone. Such a shame. It was already a sucky experience to have been sent to the stupid camp, and no one was making it better by arguing. They could atleast make it better for themselves and get along for just a short amount of time.

Serenity bit onto her bottom lip in frustration, listening to every little comment. It wouldn't be easy, but she thought she might as well have given herself the role of peace-keeper among the group, regardless of how much of a hard task it seemed to be at that time.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Alison Keegan Character Portrait: Matvei Markovich Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Mike Stinster Character Portrait: Gage Rogers Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Mike sat silently, staring at the fire before him. He heard the others talk, but did not attempt to make contact with them. No, he would certainly not. He would behave, and go home and go back to who he was and what he was doing at home. That be just so much more better, and yet, he realized why his parents had send him here. He had been destructive, expelled and run into trouble with the police. His parents had said this would be better, and he would learn how to behave. And they had hoped he would return anew, and now old. Mike had to see about that just yet.

He looked up from the fire as someone walked in. An old looking guy, friendly looking, but he was sure the man would be the biggest problem around here. And then the man spoke.

''Right, boys and girls,'' the man spoke as he clapped his hands together and looked at them, ''I am Brandy, and I shall explain the rules and make sure you'll follow them. Within a few minutes, you'll be stripped from every juwelry, piercings included. We'll wash your hair and bring it back to its natural colour. If you don't agree on it and won't remove them, it will have consequences. From tomorrow on, you'll be ordered to stay in a stone circle, make your own breakfast and dinner, above your self-made fire. You may not talked unless you are asked something, and you may not leave the stone circle unless asked to. But tonight, you may just sleep. We have no mattresses, so you'll be handed a blanket and that's all you'll have. I don't want to hear any complaining, swearing, there will be no drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes. Again, no talking unless asked to from tomorrow on. Now, if I call your name, you will follow me and remove every juwelry and anything that can harm me, or one of the staff.''

Mike looked back at the fire and nodded simply.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jack Jackson Character Portrait: Baby Stewart Character Portrait: Serenity Calvert Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Harlem felt somewhat relieved when the guy called 'Brandy' entered the picture. Well, at least something was about to happen now, and that was a lot better then sitting around with this lot. His feeling off relief subsided after the man had finished speaking, however, and the feeling was replaced with anger.
Yeah, yeah, he didn't actually think they'd be allowed to smoke or drink here, but man, that didn't stop him from craving a cigarette so bad it hurt. The fact it wasn't, by far, his only intense craving made it a hell of a lot more difficult to bare. His didn't currently have any dye in his hair, so that wasn't a problem, but his nose ring would have to go and he dreaded the idea of having it pierced again. He'd had other piercings before, sure, but none had been as difficult to go through as the nose piercing, which he'd had done twice already it the past. It would almost certainly close over. He was glad his only other body decoration at the moment was his tattoo, and they couldn't very well remove that now, could they? He felt sympathy for the scene chick as he watched her remove her large quantity of piercings. She was going to lose a lot of metal.
He agreed with the chick who'd asked about what happened to the jewelry. The pendant around his neck, a pentagram filled with intricate symbols he didn't understand, was a ward against people hiding their true nature. He wasn't even sure if it worked, but he was quite fond of it regardless and would hate to lose it. He wasn't going to take it off until he was sure he would be getting it back.
It would turn out he was right about this place being hardcore. The food, bedding and level of freedom wasn't much to be hopeful about. No swearing? Not that he had a particularly crude mouth, but cussing was kind of habit for him and he was already being forced to break enough habits as it was. Not talking he could do. He wanted to vocalize as little as possible as it was, so that wasn't going to be a real issue. But really, no swearing? He doubted he could even stick to that rule. How could someone automatically rephrase their entire vocabulary just like that?
He didn't even get the entire purpose of this ranch place anyway. What, they thought they cold shape his entire character and change him from the inside out? Fuck that. He wasn't planning on being anything other then what he was, good or bad. Though, he imagined it wouldn't be that difficult to pretend; just follow rules, keep quiet and do what he was told. Then he could leave this place.
Maybe it was good he was being forced to kick the smack. He'd seen several of his friends destroyed by it's beautiful temptation. One chick he knew was out selling her body to afford her fix and he couldn't say that was a good thing. One of his mates had told him that heroin makes you content with the way things are, and that's the only reason it was bad. So yeah, maybe he was going down the wrong path and this was a good thing.
Nah, fuck that. He'd just about kill for a hit right now.
Harlem had to laugh at the butch chick claiming to be religious, and Buddhist at that? Yeah, sure. That was a joke and a half. He hid his laughter against the back of his hand, unsure if laughing was against the rules. The less trouble he got into, the sooner he could leave.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Harlem Faye
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Harlem reluctantly removed his piercing and his necklace and handed the items over with a look of complete loathing. He didn't understand why he didn't have the right to keep hold of his very special, personal possessions. He watched the fuss the others made about the ordeal (and the consequences which followed) and admired them for it. He, however, didn't see the sense in fighting about it. Eventually, the other party would win and he would just be putting himself through a whole lot more unnecessary shit then what was already being presented to him (which was enough). Especially since the jewelry wasn't that important. It wasn't worth being forced to stare at a desert for ten minutes, anyway. What the hell kind of punishment was that anyway?

When he had finished with the exchange, he followed the next set of instructions and found himself in a room. Not much to look at and not very appealing. No mattress, even? Seemed like pointless cruelty to him, but then, most things did. He didn't see much point to the large percentage of things. How hard cold it be for these stupid people to provide mattresses, for example? What sort of valuable life lesson did such depravity hope to teach? Okay, maybe 'depravity' were too harsh of a word, but really.

He lay down on his side, trying to get comfortable and thinking over everything that had lead him to be in this fucked up place. He didn't really blame himself. Okay, it was kind of his fault for not doing a good enough job killing himself... You're kind of supposed to die and all that. It was just all a little pointless, wasn't it? The whole cycle. You're born, you grown up, you make money, you fall in love, maybe have a family and then you die. Everyone always dies, so you might as well chose when you go out, right? Seemed like a easy enough concept to conceive, yet there was something terribly wrong with him for wishing to snuff it, for taking drugs so he didn't have to feel, for being withdrawn because idle chatter was senseless. Hah! That was a joke and a half! More like there was something terribly wrong with the world and the people in it. Anyone with common sense would want to get the fuck out of there as soon as they could, right?

What was worse then the whole, pointless cycle was the bad shit that happened, like this very uncomfortable bed, for example. He doubted he would be able to sleep at all. His body was jerking and aching too much for that. Even in a comfortable bed, he'd probably not be able to sleep.

And what was this stone circle shit he kept hearing about? What exactly would that achieve? Turn him around, make him revert his oh so sinful ways due to a stone circle? Nah, fuck that. It wouldn't achieve shit. Let them just wait and see.

He lay tossing and turning, his body in a feverish state. He'd even bashed his head fervently against the wall, half trying to knock himself out until finally, just before sunrise, he fell asleep, where his dreams were dark and filled with regret.