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Harlan Sheridan

"What do you mean, say sorry?"

0 · 165 views · located in Tearmainn for the Mad

a character in “This Animal I Have Become”, as played by Call me Joel

Description

PATIENT NAME: Harlan Sheridan
PATIENT AGE: 21
PATIENT DESCRIPTION: The subject has brown eyes and dark brown hair. Being Caucasian, his skin is fair and pale. He stands around 6'1" but only weighs 156 pounds. He has small scars on the palms of his hands and on his shins from getting physical during elementary school.
PATIENT PICTURE: Image
PATIENT PERSONALITY DISORDER: Sociopathic personality. As is the typical case for most sociopaths, the subject cannot function in society. Any and all relationships are superficial. Societal conventions are lost on him. He lacks the most basic of emotional necessities to properly interact with anyone.
PATIENT HISTORY/PARENTAGE: His parents, Lisa Macio Sheridan and Jonathan Sheridan, report that even during adolescence Harlan displayed poor impulse control. He continued to display reckless, careless behavior. His parents claim he could readily rationalize his actions but couldn't act in a responsible manner, empathize with others, nor refrain from manipulating the other children. As he grew up, his ability to con others grew in intensity until he'd nearly perfected his false emotions. According to his parents, this behavior persisted into late adolescence. His schoolwork was flawless, but he rarely turned it in on time. While he wasn't a loner -- quite the obvious, always in the middle of conversations -- he had no real friends. Anyone who attempted, he'd shove away, not out of fear, for he didn't, and doesn't, mind if someone knows just how twisted his thoughts are. He merely prefers people not know because, as he says, "Well, if they actually knew who they're blindly trusting, that ruins it. They know that I'm a psycho, so they stay away, and they never have that pathetically amusing moment of realization, of 'oh crap'. They need to realize I'm f... up after I've gotten what I wanted. Use common sense, you dolt."
PATIENT'S FAVORITE PEOPLE: Unknown, for obvious reasons.
PATIENT'S LESS FAVORITE PEOPLE: Unknown. He seems to hold nearly everyone in disdain.
OTHER: The subject has sticky fingers, a golden tongue, a mind like a bear trap, and no qualms about using anyone and everyone he can.
Let it also be noted that the subject needs constant mental stimulation, or else he'll cause quite the commotion.

So begins...

Harlan Sheridan's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zak Ciaran Character Portrait: Madelyn Rayburn Character Portrait: Damian Mason Character Portrait: Rosie Clark Character Portrait: Dr. Addi O'Neil Character Portrait: Harlan Sheridan Character Portrait: Arrow McBeth Character Portrait: Tristan Kenin
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#, as written by HypeR
Dr. Addi O'Neil


I walk into Tearmainn and I am greeted by a nurse. "Hello and welcome to Tearmainn Dr. O'Neil. Would you like a brief description of each patient, Doctor?" I nod my head with a faint smile as I walk with the nurse and she describes each patient.

"Patient number 100, Zak Ciaran, 19 years of age, suffers from Schizophrenia, danger to mostly himself, slightly paranoid, small case of SPD, fragrant smoker, curses a lot, antisocial, OCD, and slight speech impediment. Had him on record for about three years now."

"Patient number 101, Madelyn Rayburn, 19 years of age, suffers from severe paranoia, possibly dangerous to herself and others, avid addiction to smoking, occasional drinking, rarely occurring episodes, can have delusions. Has been here about a year now."

"Patient number 102, Damian Mason, 23 years of age, suffers from Hematolagnia, danger to others. He hasn't been here too long so we don't have much on him."

"Patient number 103, Rosie Clark, 18 years of age, suffers from serve MPD, three personalities as of date being 'Rosie' 'Kelly' and 'Julie', does not know of the 'others', slight danger to others depending on who's 'out', raped as child by father, mother disappeared. She has been here about a year or two now."

"Patient number 104, Harlan Sheridan, 21 years of age, suffers from sociopathy, danger to others emotions, needs constant mental simulation. He's really twisty, he has been here for about 6 months or so."

"Patient number 105, Arrow McBeth, 17 years of age, suffers from server depression, socially awkward, anxious, lack of emotion, danger to herself. Hasn't been here too long."

"Patient number 106, Tristan Kenin, 19 years of age, suffers from psychopathy, lacks understanding of emotion, has no feeling emotion wise, not much of danger, slight danger to others in the lack of emotion wise. Hasn't been here too long."

Seven patients I have to talk to. Seven patients I have to help. Seven patients all with different problems who grew up in different circumstances. "I'm ready to start talking." I say to the nurse. "Start sending each patient one by one in order to my office so I may introduce myself." The nurse looks at me strangly and I walk in my office as she head down to the recreation room to get the first patient.


Zak


The Recreational Room, the place where all the patients in this damn MadHouse can come and interact. Hardly any interacting every happens because everyone's so damn antisocial. You're the antisocial one, Zak. Then there's those fucking voice. They calm down after the nurse give me those pills in the morning, but they still keep talking.
In the Recreational Room, everything is clean and neat. There's a carpet so people can't smash each others faces into the ground. There's couches in front of a TV that's locked in a bullet proof plastic box that's bolted to the floor so no one can smash there head in the TV to kill themselves. There's a coffee maker and a kettle for tea that both stop heating so no one can kill themselves by pouring boiling water on their head. And the only eating utensil they give us is a plastic spoon. Not a spork, a spoon! A fucking spoon! Have you ever tried eating steak with a spoon? Well it's fucking hard!
I sit at the round table in the recreational room next to the window and I watch every body and listen to the voices in my head. No body likes you...Kill them all...hurt yourself and leave...Kill! Die! Hurt! They just don't stop. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder and jump then look up to see a nurse. "Dr. O'Neil would like to meet you." I know the deal, so I stand up and follow the nurse into some old guys office. The old guy was little and had glasses that made his eyes look big. Ahhhh! The voices scream instead of talk sometimes to just get on my nerves and make me go crazy. The nurse sits me down in the chair in front of the doctors cluttered desk.
"Hello, Zak, I'm Dr. Addi O'Neil. I'm the new psychologist and I'm here to tell you that we are dropping your medication." The Doc says with a smile on his face. At this the voices scream louder.
"Dropping the medication? Why? We can't drop the medication. I need it." I say as I shift around in the chair trying to get comfortable and ignore the screams.
"Yes, Zak. I don't believe in medication. The only thing to help is to talk, do you understand?" The Doc said calmly.
"Yeah, Doc, I understand perfectly well that you're a fucking idiot!" At the sound of my yelling, the nurse comes in and walks me back to the recreational room and gets the next patient.


Make sure in your first post you include going to see Dr. Addi O'Neil and talk about the dropping of every ones medication

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Dr. Addi O'Neil Character Portrait: Harlan Sheridan
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Blunt, sanded down corners on the table. Bookshelf with books that were carefully screened for possibly triggering material. A deck of playing cards lying on the table, set aside and forgotten. Several men and women milling about listlessly. One leaning back in his chair and going stir crazy on top of mentally crazy. The fluorescent lighting that was filled to the brim with the cadavers of hapless insects. And most importantly, a black haired young man drumming his fingers on the table.

Harlan did not miss a single detail. He stood up and, running his hand over the table, snatched up the cards. Languidly, he then deposited his newest acquisition into his pocket. It didn't matter to him that once he was sent back to his room he'd lose it; he wanted it. With a soft huff, he began pacing the room.

Him pacing the room was, to any nurse who'd worked with him, a sign that something unpleasant was going to happen if he didn't find something to amuse himself with.

He had gotten a crossword book three weeks ago, but finished it within the week. It was hardly flimsy or thin, but he'd sat himself down during his excessive recreational time and passed the hours in that way. It's their fault. Would it kill them to let us outside? If you put us in an enclosed space, then you can keep those sane people safe behind a fence. A zoo does better by its animals than an asylum does its humans.

Dimly, like the faint memory it was, he remembered that after he'd finished the book and thrown it across the room, he'd growled that everyone there was boring. Although, it had been some time since he said that. There were more people now. More people that could provide oodles of entertainment. Such as Mr. Horn-dog.

He angled his path for the man who so obviously had something for the depressed chick-- however, a nurse got to the aroused man before he could. He scowled and crossed his arms as he returned to his pacing. He'd paced about for a good while before that nurse came for him. Harlan gave her his best smile, even though at this point he knew they would never fall for it, or go so far as to describe him as 'charming'.

"Come with me. Dr. O'Neil wants to meet you," she said.

Harlan stood and quirked an eyebrow at that. He asked, "Wants, or his meeting me and the other patients is a necessity to the proper execution of his job?"

"Both," she admitted, laughing softly. "You know, it's a wonder we don't have a rut in the rug."

At least he never failed to get a response from the nurses. Be it a chuckle or a short conversation, he knew that he could get them to react. He'd always been able to get people to react.

He entered the room, noticing immediately the well-fed and saggy-faced psychiatrist. He glanced to the walls, looking for the man's diploma. He wondered what his Alma Mater was.

"Hello, Harlan Sheridan. Take a seat," the doctor suggested. Harlan complied but rolled his eyes. He pointedly ignored that and continued unaffectedly, "I'm Dr. Addi O'Neil."

"Okay, introductions over. Wouldn't it have been more efficient to do this in one big meeting? We were all in the rec room anyway."

"Well, possibly, but I'd like to meet with each of you individually, and to tell you that I'll be dropping your medication."

Harlan smiled. This was fine by him. The medication that he'd been on since first arriving annoyed him. "Alrighty then. 'Cept I guess it's not cuz of me-- it's you and your ideals. Right?"

The doctor didn't say anything.

That's new. He narrowed his eyes. "Why's your name Addi? Typically that's a girl's name, not a guy's, where I come from. Unless I'm wrong in assuming you're not a chick. I mean, old people just seem to do that, the hags looking all wrinkly and masculine and the male-geezers looking all old haggish."

"I hope you won't deflect later on. Talking about your problem will help you," Dr. O'Neil assured him.

As if that helps anything, Harlan thought grumpily. He stared at the old man in front of him until the nurse came back to escort him to the rec room, and then he happily followed. He didn't like him, at all.

"Not a word in excess," he grumbled as he slumped down in the nearest chair. "Not a single word. In, out, ignored."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Zak Ciaran Character Portrait: Madelyn Rayburn Character Portrait: Rosie Clark Character Portrait: Harlan Sheridan Character Portrait: Arrow McBeth Character Portrait: Tristan Kenin Character Portrait: Logan Veltar
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Logan


There was a time Logan might have looked at the tall sterile building in a curious and adventurous light but all that came to mind when he first laid eyes on Tearmainn was that this was the type of place Florence was hiding at. Florence, his ex-wife… Just the mere thought of her brought painful memories back to mind. He shook his head and sighed. Stop it. It’s in the past, there’s nothing you can do about it now, he told himself. Walking forward he made it to the entrance and pushed his way inside. A small mousy looking nurse looked up from her clipboard and peered at him from the tops of her glasses. She gave him a small smile and asked in a quiet voice, “Hello, how may I help you?”

Logan took a moment to look around the reception area before looking at the nurse. “My names Logan…” he said in his usual quiet manner. Still, his voice was deep and carried down the hallways of the asylum. Flustered, the nurse looked down at a sheet that seemed to have a list of names on it. Nodding, she collected a folder and handed it to him. “Your living arrangements have been set up and all the information you need is in this folder. I have been informed you were forwarded basic information on the patients, have you studied the files?” she asked, blinking up at him.

He nodded wordlessly to the nurse and watched as she floundered to find something to say. A small smile stretched the corners of his lips and he took a step forward to pat the small woman’s head. “Calm yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. I’ll find my way to my quarters now. Have a nice day.” He said and by memory (he’d studied a map of the asylum before-hand) made his way towards his designated area.

A half hour later, he’d unpacked his belongings and was ready to make his rounds. He’d been informed that he had to introduce himself to the staff so they’d know a new guard had joined the staff and they wouldn’t startle at the sight of a stranger on the asylum property. He nodded toward the few nurses that he passed in the hallways and finally reached the recreation room. His eyes took in the patients one by one and internally he put name to faces. Leaning against the “doorway” he waited patiently for the doctor’s sessions to finish so that he may be able to introduce himself.


Madelyn


Drip. Drip. Drip She woke up to the sound of dripping water. It was such a small sound but the silence of the room made it echo in her ears and its consistency reminded Madelyn of the annoying persistence of an alarm clock. Her heart hammered painfully in her head, her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and all of her was sore and aching. What on earth happened? she asked herself. She made a move to lift her hand to sooth her pounding head only to realize she couldn’t. Her hands… her hands were tied behind her back! Her eyes snapped open but she saw nothing but darkness. What’s going on?!? Very slowly, her eyes adjusted to the darkness but still she couldn’t recognize where she was. The fog in her mind cleared up and she finally realized her hands weren’t the only thing tied up; her legs and waist were tied to the chair she currently sat at. Not only that but a cloth had been wrapped over her mouth. A muffled whimper left her covered lips in fear and anxiousness. Madelyn couldn’t remember what had happened and had no idea how she had gotten there but she felt that she had to get out of there NOW. Her gut clenched telling her that something bad was coming. Something very bad.

As if to confirm that feeling, footsteps suddenly echoed around her. Her head snapped toward the direction it came from, causing the edges of her vision to blur and her head to lighten with dizziness. As she regained from her small dizzy spell her eyes could just barely make out the outline of a door. Her ears s picked up the sound of those footsteps again only now they were so much closer. Her heart pounded against her chest, sweat trickled her forehead and coated her hands with a panic that suddenly paralyzed her. Before she knew it the door creaked slowly open…
“Hello Maddie. Did you miss me? I missed you.”

Gasping, Madelyn woke up sweating and panting as if she’d run a marathon for days. Her form shook and for the life of her she couldn’t stay still. Looking around, a small sigh left her lips. She was still in Tearmainn. For the first time in a long time she was grateful that these walls kept her inside because it also meant it kept them out. As much as she hated this place, and Madelyn did hate the place, she secretly thought of it as her safety blanket; the barrier between them and her. The times that she’d suspected the doctors, the guards and even the patients to be in league with them slipped away from her mind. She couldn’t find it in her at that moment to be wary or cautious. She was just so relieved that she wasn’t back in that dark, cold room any longer. So very grateful. This happened every time she had one of those dreams… or memories, really. In those times she acted like she did before the paranoia had set in. Still, any one thing could set her off and make her go back to being paranoid and wary.

A rosy blush rushed to her cheeks as she realized she’d been sleepwalking again. Somehow she now stood next to one of the barred windows of the recreation room. As was custom, she checked herself over for any bruises and found that she’d been lucky this time. Only one small bruise tainted her pale creamy skin. Rubbing at the spot, Madelyn wondered like so many other times how she’d managed to bruise herself again. Shrugging, she leaned against the wall and watched out the window as a random flock of birds flew above the building. A small smile tilted the corner of her mouth as she watched them. They were so lucky. Sneaking a peak behind her she scanned over the other patients faces. Most of them had come here after she had; she could only remember very few that were already here when she was transferred in. Looking down at herself she wondered how she had changed in that time… or had she changed at all?