Lillian Brennan's Story

WildOak Asylum; named for the thick woods surrounding it, a private nature reserve; ancient trees shelter the old building from view, a winding road miles long leading to its entrance that is rarely driven on except by employees. There are many of them; nurses who fill medications for the patients, wardens who keep them in line, psychologists who try to make the abnormality in these people go away so that they can fit in with society's standards, and a few janitors and maids to clean up after them. The ones who know of this place's existence are many. Those who know the truth of it are few. They can sense it though, those workers; there is something wrong with this place. People quit their jobs here far more often than should happen, crazies or no. None of them speak of it; simply say they work at a hospital or with those that have special needs. Being associated with this place, with its fame and reputation, one would think the people who worked here would be proud they got in - and they are... up until they actually begin working here, suspicious from the very first moment they enter when they have to drop off any personal belongings at the door, and read the dress code that does not allow belts, any form of cutlery for their lunches, writing utensils, or even CDs.

It's a nice place; large windows, wide halls that have plenty of light, intricate victorian style designs; what you don't see until your inside is the metal bird netting inside the plastic windows, the security pads on all doors and windows; this place is just a fancy cage. If you were to shine a UV light on the floor and walls, they would glow brilliantly as the light revealed the horrors that have happened here over the many years. The only ones who know of that however are the family that run the place and a few trusted employees, other than the patients themselves of course.

Some days are calm. The patients allowed to wander the halls do so, the first through third ward patients allowed select games and the right to associate with other patients, perhaps allowed to go outside into the yard and play some kind of ballgame, all of that with extreme supervision of course. Other days, the yelling of the fourth ward patients echoes down the halls, occupying the nurses and wardens, leaving the other patients with more freedom as they are left with less attention. The food is good, through the rooms are small. Good behavior gets you movement to a more relaxed ward, though they are never truly free. The money that funds this place mostly comes from the government, the result of discoveries made over a hundred years credited to them. The public often wonders how much hard work it must have taken, how much study and observation. Donations are aplenty; government stipends for each discovery and medication still used are sent to them.

But all that's just the surface - the reality of those discoveries are far darker. Testing taken through force, ones that wouldn't be considered humane, give them over half of their material. Responses to different conditions such as pain and pleasure, illegal drug testing, training them to behave like dogs - that is the way here, when others aren't looking. The only ones who can truly understand what it's like to experience those things are the ones who have experienced it; understanding can only be gained though pain and hardship. Such is the way humans evolve. So one can only think, does that mean the patients are the ones who see the true reality? They certainly think so, and life is all about perspective. Why should they have to put up with that? The answer; they shouldn't, and they know it. So they take every chance they get to show others just what they think of it.

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Tsukiko never did care about other people; they were different than him, after all. Society expected him to fit in, to be 'one of the crowd'. He said to hell with that, and so they'd chosen him as the outcast, just like the group of bullies at the playground. They said the things he had done weren't his fault, that he could get 'better'; but if getting better meant becoming as blind and ignorant as the majority, they could take their acceptance and shove it. That was just a power play anyway, so that they could feel good about themselves, raise their self esteem - so that they could say they were different, better, normal. You saw it on the child playgrounds all the time - the one kid picked on because he or she was 'different'. Destroying that person brought the others satisfaction, brought them together. They didn't understand him; and he too couldn't understand them.

Did they really think he would care if they chose him as the one to be outcasted? He had no bonds with any of the people out there, judging him, putting him in this place. To be close to someone, you have to be able to understand them, just as they understand you. Those people can't understand him, thus any bond of so-called 'friendship' is shallow, fake, with no real attachment; do they think he cares about losing bonds such as those? Do they think it torments him, that his trust had been broken, that they had hurt him, that he wanted to know why and earn back their acceptance?

How ridiculous. Well, if it made them feel better about themselves, then they could just go ahead and do so. It wasn't like they mattered. And apparently, that was very very wrong, because it was what had landed him in this place; well, that and the fact that he had killed a couple cops, but they were shooting at him and his pack; was he supposed to stand there and die? As if. He refused to give ignorant idiots the title of his killer.

And so here he was. WildOak Asylum. A fester pool of darkness and pain, at odds with the appearances given by the bright open hallways. And they were getting transfers today; more people who would wither die or learn that they were not the ones in the wrong. Newbies were always fun.

A gasp and clatter tipped him off that he'd been found, and Tsukiko looked up to see a young female nurse staring at him in absolute shock. The expression on her face alone was almost enough to make one laugh, regardless of the fact that she had dropped her clipboard and papers all over the place. Tsukiko allowed himself a tiny smile of amusement; really, really tiny but still an accomplishment on the nurse's part.

"Wh- what are you doing?! Get down from there, you'll hurt yourself! ... How did you even get up there anyway!" She called up to him, voice squeaking twice.

Tsukiko, with one last glance at the main gate, with its high metal bars and voltage signs everywhere, decided to do as she asked. He was bored by now anyway - obviously the new people weren't going to be here any time soon, so it was a waste of time. He leaned forward slightly, changing so he was sitting on one heel with one foot out in front to control direction as he slid down the downward descent of the roof, leaning back slightly to slow down as he reached the edge, and pushed off so he was facing away form the drop rather than towards it so that he could catch the third-story windowsill instead of falling three stories down, using the momentum to direct himself through the opening. He heard a faint shriek from the nurse as he did so.

The windows, as with most of the doors, had a keypad that would unlock it so it could be opened; after living here three years, Tsukiko already knew the pass codes to most of them.

The third ward, on the top left of the building when facing the entrance, were the only windows with easy access to the roof, the place with the best view of the surroundings and gate. Tsukiko liked being up high, where there was else of a chance that they would be able to find him; thus he had learned the pass codes for the rooms and windows there a long time ago, as well as the schedule for changing them.

"Ki, stop using my window. I'll stab you." A voice ordered bluntly, with no joke in it, when he landed inside the room.

"Not a chance." Tsukiko answered just as bluntly, closed the window, and walked out. The kid, Kazue, had been tossed in WildOak several months ago, and didn't seem to give a damn what they wanted him to do, though for very different reasons than Tsukiko - kid wasn't nearly as lucid as he seemed. Kazue looked up from his book long enough to glare at him as he left the room.

The hall was empty, as usual here; third ward was where the patients with just enough self-control to not kill somebody were kept. Thus, all the doors were password-protected, instead of simply locked like the doors in second and first ward. During the mid-day, the first ward patients were allowed to roam free, while the second wards needed to have an escort. He'd ditched his earlier - normal, and by now they were so tired of trying to keep up with him that they didn't even punish him anymore, so long as no one got hurt.

Tsukiko easily made his way down to the first floor, avoiding the commons rooms and halls where staff regularly passed through, so that he could go to the first waiting room and see out the front window, waiting for the cars that would bring his next source of entertainment. After they got past all the security checks, that was.

Speaking of which, the door suddenly opened to reveal the same nurse he had just seen outside, who got that same look on her face as he had seen outside, obviously wondering how a patient could get down from the third wharf where he had entered the place from the roof to the first waiting room so quickly. You needed authorization for every area you went to, and accompaniment by staff as well, required at all times. This one probably worked with the newbies - that would be why she hadn't seen him around before or known his reputation.

Purely to freak her out more, Tsukiko gave her a charming smile and wave - it wasn't like he was always unfriendly, sociopaths like him were famed for being able to imitate normal behaviors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gate move, light flashing at an odd angle into the room as it reflected off a car. The woman blinked a couple times, then spun on her heel and walked away quite quickly, muttering about old asylums and ghost shows she had seen on TV.

The new patients had arrived. Finally, someone new to mess with - the ones they had here were pretty much too used to him by now, it wasn't any fun.

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David had about had it. He could feel his tempter rising at every slight bump in the road as the cuffs on his wrists jingled and tugged at the sore flesh that had been rubbed raw from weeks and weeks of being transferred from cell to car to bus to cell to car to truck and back again. He snarled, annoyed and yanked at them again the veins in his neck popping out as his next tantrum threatened to breach.

"This shit again...how many times is he going to try that shit, do we even have anymore of that sedative they gave us?" The cop in the driver's seat asked, glancing at his partner then at the bulletproof division between them and the known psychopathic killer in the back seat.

"Nah, used the last one outta Georgia, man." His partner murmured. "They really should have given us a truck for this guy, he doesn't seem to do well with confined spaces like this. I mean...six hours is a bit much even for a fucker like him."

"Get these fuckin' things off." David demanded, the two jumped as he sent his head crashing into the divider and pressed his face against the bullet proof glass. "GET THEM OFF!" He bellowed this time, his hot breath fogging the glass only making his creepy yellow eyes blur and look even more animalistic. They had his handcuffs hooked to the floor of the vehicle to keep him from trying to break the glass, despite knowing full well it was impossible. The driver, a fat cop from Georgia spoke up to try and keep him calm, however David could see the beads of sweat around his furrowed eyebrows as he looked back at him through the rear view mirror.

"Listen, we're almost there, see? You can see the front gates. You have to keep calm back there."

The cop at the passenger's side made the mistake of looking back to see if he'd calmed a little with the news. David still had his face pressed against the division and he locked onto the cop's eyes with a blood curdling glare. The cop was starkly reminded of the photos he'd been presented when they'd approached him about the transfer. The man had been found covered in blood and viscera calmly...doing his business with the remains of a fully grown man right there next to him on the floor. He'd never dealt with a criminal like that. He could handle gangsters, drunks, even murderers. This guy was sick. The cop turned to face front his face ashen pale. They where sharing a car with the devil without doubt and he'd taken the job like it was some kind of call to duty.

David cried out again, this time bringing his head back and whipping it forward to collide with the bulletproof division. CRACK! The police car skidded to a stop feet from the gate kicking up gravel as the cops both went for their guns. David was still, leaned against the window his eyes glazed over as blood smeared the division where his head had hit it.

"DAVID! I NEED YOU TO SIT UP! SIT UP!.........GET UP"

"DAVID GET UP!" David was back at his home. His mother was shouting at him. He stared at her, the way her golden hair swayed when she leaned angrily and shook her head. "Your father's going to be here any minute and look at the mess the house is in! Do something about it, don't just sit here starin' at the damn TV! You're USELESS!"

David jolted to consciousness and sat up, forehead smeared with blood. The cops jumped back guns aimed at him, expecting him to leap at their throats or something. The sun beamed in at him through the open car doors. They where still feet from the open gate. David glanced up at the Asylum then down at the cuffs on his wrists. He felt a lot calmer now that a fresh breeze was flowing across his face. He could smell the oak trees and the forest. It smelt like home to him. He smiled friendly-like and raised his wrists. "You gon' escort me in 'r what?"

They eventually got the car the rest of the way to the front doors and escorted David out and into the building. A lot of checks were made but so many had been done along the way it was practically a give in that he carried absolutely nothing on him, not even his own pair of clothes. David was in prison orange, his personal clothing was tucked into a bag originally meant for evidence but fashioned into a storage space for everything he owned. A pair of jeans, a shirt, a pair of boxers, and a strange hat fashioned out of a wolf pelt and scull.

"Make damn sure you take good fuckn' care of that wolf mask, y'hear? I'll pull your tongue out of yer pie hole n'd stick it up yer ass. Fuckn' thing took me years to make. I'll make one out of each a' yall if I find out it was one a' yall who'd ruined it." David growled as they passed the bag from hand to hand and had each item checked and promptly locked away for good. It wasn't likely he'd ever see it again since he was to be admitted for life. Everyone avoided his gaze. David loved it, there was nothing he liked more than intimidating the people around him simply by staring at them. It was thanks to his eyes and the lovely reputation he'd cultivated simply by committing a single crime. It was the only crime he'd ever committed. Well, the only one what was worth noting. David let his yellowed gaze wander as the police checked the paperwork. The building itself held little interest for him. He knew a prison when he saw one and this was little more than a prison with slightly nicer architecture. If he was lucky he'd figure out a way to get outdoor privilages, that would be enough for him, for the time anyways. He intended to run this place like he had his cell block in prison. That had been fun. No one wanted to fuck with a psychopath there. Though, admittedly things would likely be different here due to the fact that most everyone was a psychopath.

"Ain't got one like me though." He muttered under his breath. He finally noticed the splotch of blood on his forehead and gingerly inspected the wound with his fingertips. "When in sam hell did I get this?

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"What are you doing? Let me go. Let me go! Stop it! No! Please, stop. What - I can. Let. Me. Go!"

The slight girl's screaming could be heard echoing through the warmly lit corridors, echoing in a medical symphony of the typically 'reassuring' doctor's murmur and the sound of metal on metal as Lillian struck the doctor's trolley away and it collided with the metal at her windows. Her screams were rent with the occasional shuddering sob, or inarticulate frustration-fuelled screech. She hated doctors. Lil hated the people that said that she was ill, that there was something wrong with her. She was fine. Hell, she was normal. And she just wanted to go and see the new residents. She had arrived with the last batch, and she was eager to not be the 'New Girl' anymore. But she'd be damned if she took her medicine this morning. It made her feel sick and shivery and numb. Why couldn't they let her continue with her art therapy? She enjoyed that.

"Miss Brennan! I'm going to have to ask you to - ah - calm down. I don't want to have to -"

"Don't touch me! I don't want it!"

That sassy back chatting nurse had been the one to bring her her medicine this morning. And he'd goaded and teased her. He was a pervert and Lil was so done with perverts. When his hand had brushed hers while passing over the rattling cup of multicoloured tablets, she'd struck out. He'd hit her, evidenced by the new purple bruise to her face, and the situation had escalated. Lillian didn't like hurting people, but he'd touched her first and they knew that she didn't like it. A small team of nurses had, of course, come to his rescue. The metallic crash had been the heralding sound as they lifted her by her arms to hold her against the wall and her flailing legs had collided with their stupid trolley. Her cacophonous screaming faded slowly as they waited for her fit to pass.

She looked a mess. Lillian's dirty blond hair fell in front of her eyes in uncoordinated strands and her eyes were too white and too bloodshot. The bruise that coloured her pale cheek was made to seem worse by her too pale skin. Lips parted, she eventually stopped struggling, her relentless angry cries giving way to bitter panting as she started to pull oxygen back into her burning lungs.

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Twenty minutes later, she'd taken her medicine and, in her passive stupor following her tantrum, had been redressed. Her hair now neatly coiled up on her head, the nurse had released her on a caution, knowing the temperament of his particular patient and acknowledging his accident. Lil stumbled out of her room, arms wrapped around her body as though by doing so she could hold her body together as the inevitable shudders took over. She hated feeling cold. Lillian had wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and the hem dragged behind her on the ground like some heavy cape as she descended the stairs.

A doctor followed her, letting her pass through the doors, but allowing her the illusion that she chose where she went when in reality there was only one place she could go. The rec room was on the ground floor. Trudging miserably down long halls, ignoring the echoing cries that never seemed to end at WildOak, Lil led her doctor to the dingy, dusty room where she was permitted to enjoy herself. When she entered, it was empty, which wasn't a surprise as it was still early. She looked around, taking in the dirty tomes and comics that lined the ancient bookcases, the patched furniture, and the heavy curtains. Making accidental eye contact with the doctor made her cringe, but she sighed softly, looking up at him through her lashes and offering a sheepish smile. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded, then turned and left her in the room.

The door had a soft close hinge, which she knew well. One hand reached into her pocket where she'd already folded a piece of paper a couple of times, and she slid it between the wall and the door before it could close and lock her in. The door shut, holding the paper in place well enough that it was easy to turn the handle and exit. Wrapping her arms around herself again, she skittered quickly down the hall, casting furtive glances in every direction, desperate not to get caught. Finding herself at the entryway, she moved into the corridor that ran against the front of the large building.

Her usual spot was vacant as usual. The window seat was set against an impressive bay window which enjoyed the heat of the sun no matter what time of day it was, and it was there she'd often curl in a catlike, content way until people could be heard looking for her. She lifted the cushions of the seat to retrieve the notepad and pencil that she stashed there, before tugging her blanket with her and getting comfortable. This spot was perfect, because if she drew the curtains, which she did, she was invisible to anyone that walked past in the corridor, and she was quiet enough not to be heard too. She could see the newcomers arriving from her new vantage point, and decided to use it to sketch the face of each one that entered.

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”Meow, meow! New peeps,” Puss hummed excitedly, the bridge of her nose pressed up in full force against the glass window; eyes gleaming with wonder and curiosity down at the scene below. The arrival of new patients of course was what captured the girls gaze when peering down, the lingering possibility of fun and amusement, and much more, spinning round inside her head. ”Wander what they’re in for, hnnngh ~ ”

Turning round on the balls of her feet, Puss hopped down from the window-ledge and landed on the floor, before beginning to make ways for the end of the hallway. ”Excuse me,” she sighed while tiptoeing round a member of staff who stood by the door, ”Coming through,” Puss added with particular emphasis towards the latter, and sulked with, ”Thank-you.” Hurrying on down the hallway with a nod of approval, she rushed down and practically bounced from the floor as the girl made a quick turn at the corner. With a light jingle from the bell that hung from her left ear, the staff knew where the girl was near enough all the time; a makeshift tracker in the vaguest of sense, you could say, as it almost always gave away her position. Ignoring it for now though, Puss bobbed along until reaching the bottom floor, and then once there, immediately scanned over the area with her mismatched eyes.

However, her perceptive gaze was sharply broken by a sudden, ”Oi!” A female warden had called when darting a glare to the girl, and promptly tugged the cat by the collar of her clothing, ”Were you not suppose to be in a time-out upstairs?”

”N-yah, it wasn’t me!” Puss hissed while pulling away, ”Meow! You got the wrong cat, lady! N-yarrr!” Both sets of weighty fingers pressing down on the one hand that had captured her, the feline embedded her nails into the woman’s cold hand and dug deep; hoping the warden would release and let her be on her merry way once more.

”And where are your socks?” The warden quizzed, to which a ‘humph’ was the response. ”You should really cover up more.”

With a flick of the wrist the woman let go; dropping the cat to the floor with a thud as Puss then scrambled onto her feet, and shot a dirty look to the staff-member. Naturally the woman wasn’t impressed, however over the few years that the girl had spent within the Asylum, much of the current staff knew to expect as much; as if dealing with a child, a whiny one occasionally, Puss wasn’t the worst patient they had and with simple methods she was, per say, manageable. ”It makes my skin itchy! N-yah!” The girl huffed, quickly turning on her heel before scurrying off in the opposite direction, away from the woman. Then after though, and quietly, she muttered back under her breath, ”Na-la-la, you are dumb.”

Her freedom was short lived however as once arriving upon another door, yet another member of staff was quick to block the girls way. Seemingly pleased in doing so they merely questioned, ”Do you have permission to be down here?” The man asked, likely another warden from what Puss could deduce, before the girl gave a lazy tilt of her head. ”If not, you’ll have to return to your room. You kn--”

”N-yar! I wanna see the new peeps,” She interrupted and stomped her bare foot, ”Move out the way! Meow!”

”Only if you say please.” He bargained, smugly.

”Meow-owe--” she whined, feeling a forceful smack to the back of the head. A whack for not using her words, usually, as Puss had come to figure out; though that didn’t mean she was any more willing to use them, and mostly didn’t, when irked. ”N-yah, hmph.”

”Oh well… guess you won’t be wanting a little treat then, either.”

Instantly the girl pounced on the man and grabbed at his sleeves, ”I want treat, give it to me! Meow!”

Offering a mere nod in response the man lead the way, unlocking a few doors along the way as he easily guided the girl through the connecting rooms; a task managed only through the promise of a treat, as some knew, and the pair continued to move along. Although when reaching a particular area some minutes after, Puss was handed a small lollipop that she promptly inserted between her lips, and contently sucked on.

Treats were rare, and staff willing to give them out was considered even rarer; Puss knew to keep it secret while she could, enjoying the sweet for that moment, before crushing the juicy orb between her teeth and gulping it down in one. ”Meow! The hunt for new peeps continues!”

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Emmett was used to the usual routine of WildOak Asylum; he knew more than he should and could get away with things he shouldn't. It was only natural he was able to move more freely than other third ward patients; he had been at the Asylum for five years now and knew all the tricks and all the right words to get the wardens to let him move freely. Em knew which wardens were goody goody, and which were open to a bribe or favour in return for him to do as he pleased. Known for harming quite a lot of patients and enjoying the punishment that came afterwards, Em used this to his advantage. If some patients were on a warden or nurse's bad side, he'd offer to deal with them or put them in their place, in return Em was allowed to leave his room whenever he pleased. Some called him a traitor for doing favours for the one's many patients feared the visit of, whereas Emmett saw it as being strategical. You had to make a few friends to get what you wanted and just as many enemies in return. There wasn't much that could be used against Em. He wasn't emotionally attached to anyone and being beaten up was a plus, which really annoyed and disgusted others.

Emmett let out an annoyed, drawn out groan as he sat impatiently on his bed. "Arrrgghhh come on come on!" He yelled out, knowing very well the staff were late to give him the medication he craved. Em was becoming fidgety and more irritated by the minute. "Damn sheep wasting my time.." He mumbled crossly to himself. "For fucks sa-" Before he could finish his sentence a nurse opened the door, accompanied by a familiar warden. "About time!" He exclaimed with a grin. The staff were quite relieved that he was so eager to take his medication compared to most uncooperative patients, Em sculled them down like candy. It was when he started using bribes to get more than he should was when it became a problem. Although he was easy to deal with, his reputation made staff still cautious of him with his violent history. As he was handed the medication, he swallowed it all at once then gave the warden suggestive look. The warden frowned before turning to the nurse.

"I'll take it from here. You can go." No questions asked the nurse was more than happy to leave the warden with Em alone in the room. It was silent for a moment as Em raised a brow at the warden for being so quiet. This guy seemed new to the whole breaking the rules shit which only made things more exciting. "...Did you do it?"

"What? You telling me you haven't heard yet? Of course I bloody did it. I must thank you for such a feisty target. They certainly put up a fight." Em rolled up the long white sleeve of his left arm to reveal a series of scratches, bite marks and bruises followed by a devious, proud smile. The warden didn't know how to react but it was certain he felt awkward at this point. "Now hurry up and escort me out already, new toys are arriving today and I don't want to miss it." His playful tone turned serious now as he stood up off his bed and the warden simply gave him a nod.

The main reason why Em was in the third ward was because of all these favours he gave the staff. So that they wouldn't get in trouble, Em would instead. As he was lead through the floors he passed a few familiar faces but was far too interested on the new people arriving. Finally reaching the first floor, he shooed the warden away as he approached the waiting room only to notice Ki had gotten there before him. "Keen on the newbies too huh?" Emmett said as he casually walked up beside him, also peering out the front window as cars pulled up with various patients exiting them. "Ooo he looks like he could really harm somebody." Emmett's eyes locked onto a rather tough looking male, although he couldn't exactly see him very well from this distance; he watched as they searched him and removed some belongings. Em was already growing excited with anticipation, disturbing thoughts running through his mind of harming the man and being equally harmed. Em was pretty sick in that sense.

This was it... this was to be his new home. He could see the building rising above the oak trees and the surreal forest. It seemed so quaint and beautiful as if he wasn't going to an asylum but a famed school or some holiday special hotel. It was almost like he had finally received a letter to Hogwarts and life would get a million times better, albeit late. WildOak was famous enough to pretend but this was not a ticket to Hogwarts. His life was changing, but there would be no magic and love and happiness. He didn't want to go here. It felt so themed and fake but no. There was no holiday. There was no room service and relaxation and spas waiting for Adair. He wouldn't see his family here or interact with any friends that he still may have harbored back home. He wasn't even in the same state anymore, his father had made sure of that. This was to be his cage until he learned to behave and think 'properly'.

What did that even mean? What was proper? He had been behaving and acting just fine before all of this happened. Sure, he was part of a mirror and he could admit that he was starting to live his life in front of it but the tragedy that led him here wasn't his fault. He shouldn't be sent away like this, alone and scared and half of himself. The night his father had shattered his mirror he had admittedly gone berserk. He could hardly remember what happened even though the event had occurred about a month ago. All he remembered was that his father had picked up a chair and smashed the anchor of his soul. The psychiatrist back home told him he had screamed and scrambled through the shards of glass in a frenzy and he had attacked his father before clawing at himself. The hospital had come to pick him up and he'd been in a straight jacket for a while until he calmed down. Now, a month after his first admittance, he was being transferred to WildOak Asylum. Everyone thought it would be better for him to be in a completely new environment and force him to engage patients he wasn't familiar with. Yay.

Since he had been on good behavior lately, he was given the benefit of the doubt and was permitted to just sit in the back of the car with a simple seat-belt and no restraints. He hadn't tried to hurt anyone outside of that one episode after all. And, they had quickly realized that once he was given that one little mirror shard back, he had immediately relaxed.Tthey decided to let him keep it which was a good thing. The only sad part was that the actual glass was encased in a sealed box which he couldn't open. This was to ensure that he didn't use the sharp edges to cut anyone or himself. No matter how he tried, he could not open the blasted thing. So, there he was, sitting in the back seat, fiddling with the case at the end of a silver chain around his neck. He usually kept it hidden beneath his shirt but he needed to hold it for some reassurance right now.

It wasn't much longer before the car stopped in front of the large gates. Adair swallowed hard in his trepidation. He quickly hid his necklace beneath his shirt as his escorts stepped out of the vehicle and opened the door for him. Adair slowly stepped out and squinted his deep blue eyes as the sun beat down on him and he raised a hand to shield them from the glare. "Come on, kid," one of the escorts called and grabbed his upper arm. He immediately tensed, but he followed the man as he was led through the series of gates and check points. The young teenager trembled a little more after each pat down; it meant he was that much farther away from freedom.

At the last checkpoint, the guard pulled the necklace out of his shirt and raised an eyebrow. "You aren't allowed any personal belonging. I will be taking this," the man stated.

Adair's eyes widened and he pulled away from the man and clutched the chain desperately. "No! Please! Don't take it! This is all I have left of me!" he begged. His escorts immediately grabbed his arms to keep him still.

The escort that had grabbed him earlier piped up then, "Let 'em keep it. He'll become violent otherwise."

"That is just enabling his behavior, showing him he can get his wants with a tantrum. None of the other patients have the privilege," the gatekeeper answered.

"Just take it after his first session. He hasn't put up a fuss or anything with it on."

"I don't care. The psychiatrist will say when he is allowed to have it back. For now, I must confiscate it." The man then pulled the necklace off and Adair's eyes widened. That little piece of glass was all he had left of his soul! He needed it! Why would they take something that important away? His heart started hammering in his chest and his eyes were glued to the little case that protected his soul. He started to struggle then. "No! No! I need it! I need it!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as he began to be pushed through the gate. He tried to fight his way back but he wasn't strong enough. Tears filled his eyes and he started to hyperventilate. This couldn't be happening again. He didn't want to loose himself! His sheer panic made him snap.

Almost instantly, his eyes narrowed and his tears stopped coming. His feature seemed to harden from their boyish touch and his trembling ceased. Adair was gone. "Get the fuck off me!" he snarled then. Roland would have none of this. Unfortunately there was only so much he could do considering he was a rather scrawny 17 year old. The escorts hustled him through into the asylum and it wasn't until the other escort hugged him tightly from behind to immobilize him that he began to calm himself down. Though he seemed calm, they hadn't put Roland back into his place. Considering he didn't have his shard, Roland would be out to play for a while until he got Adair back from these assholes. He just needed to play the part until he was given back what was his. That meant he had to be nice though all he wanted to do was fight those that would put him in danger.

"Are you calm, Adair?" the escort asked tentatively.

"Yeah." Roland answered in Adair's stead.

The escort let Roland go then to go on his way before they left the same way they came leaving Roland to his own devices. Roland dusted himself off and glanced around then trying to get his barrings. He wasn't the only newbie but he saw other patients watching. They were probably veterans of this place, come to see the squalling fresh meat.

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Yuuji was very annoyed. He didn't find out they were getting new ones until that very morning. His usual escort, a woman named Robin whom he was proud to say he groomed personally for months told him at 7am, only two hours before the lineup would arrive. He was very disappointed in her and portrayed as such by acting the betrayed child. He hadn't spoken to her for the past half hour and intended to keep it that way for the next day and a half. Currently he led her through the halls, ignoring her despite the sweets she promised. He didn't truly care about the sugared carbs. At least not the ones she offered. She always came to him with candies. Sweets you could get easily at a dollar store by the fistfull. It was pastries and cakes he liked. She should have known that by now.

Yuuji walked the halls lightly his hands entwined behind his back as he pretended his nursemaid didn't exist. ”Meow! You got the wrong cat, lady! N-yarrr!


Yuu blinked and stepped back as Yukiko scurried past him, the wind from her spirited escape blew his near translucent white hair about him. There were a lot of strange people in that place but Yukiko was the strangest in his opinion. He followed in her path towards the commons room, making no attempt to rush through the hallways. He stopped before getting through the last doorway and peered through the window scanning the room for intrigues. Inside the main office some hulking ruffian was giving the wards and nurses a hard time. He spoke with a voice that managed to carry through both sets of walls without him truly raising his voice. The southern accent he had was very strong. Yuu would have to investigate that one further. Ki was in there perched by the window, his deep interest betrayed ever so slightly in his posture. Yuu smiled at his ability to spot that, it took him quite a while to acquire such a skill. At that moment another new patient was being wrestled into the building. He looked around his height, perhaps an inch or two taller but his hair was a pleasant red-brown. Yuu watched closely as the wards wrestled him to calmness, with deep interest in his gaze. Without a doubt he would make for an interesting plaything.

And then there was Emmet. A giddy childish excitement rose in him, drowning out the calculative curiosity that cultivated at the arrival of the new ones. It was as if he’d suddenly been presented with an extra present for his birthday. His magenta eyes widened and all at once he shoved the doors wide opened. “EMMY!”

He practically dove across the room to hang around his neck like a brightly colored necklace. One of his bright red slippers even slipped off and lay abandoned in the middle of the room. The wards in the commons practically bristled unanimously and one of them shouted authoritatively towards him. “Yuuji! Hands to yourself!”

Yuu continued to cling to Emmet with one arm as he made a face at the ward, bulling his eyelid down and sticking his tongue out grotesquely. “Don’t be so stingy, I’m not hurting him, right Emmy? Am I hurting you?” He absently smoothed Emmet’s shirt out, smiling playfully. “He won’t let me anyways.”

The tone in his last sentence was annoyed and by contrast to his light friendly tone seemed aggressive, almost pissed off. “There’s something entirely wrong with the lot of you.”

He left Emmet’s side and walked up to Adair sticking his hand out for a shake. “Hello, welcome to the madhouse I’m Yuuji.”

Yuuji’s hand up to the very tip of his middle finger had been stitched. Not because of any sort of wound mind. There was no split in the skin, there were a few small scars, old scars that were difficult to see with his pale skin but the red threading that trailed in spirals up his arm didn’t look to be anything but some form of decoration, some kind of extreme body modification. It looked painful up close, all one could imagine was the way it must tighten whenever he moved to flex his arm or bend it, the way it tugged at the sensitive skin on the hand. The same stitches were on his face as well. They lined the edge of his eyelid and the corner of his lip. You could almost imagine him tugging the string through as the skin resisted. Yet, Yuuji grinned, oozing with friendliness that may have had the tint of falsehood hidden somewhere like a fraction of unease had been snapped off and dissolved inside. It was not unlike a drug being presented by an oh-so-trusted stranger. This man wanted to harm him.

And yet there was still something genuine in that smile in the similar way that there was something genuine about the way a stranger says he’ll pray for you. You know he will probably forget in the next hour, and the gesture itself may be pointless but the sentiment had some fraction of sympathy hidden in it. Yuuji’s smile had the same tint of sympathy a hint of genuine concern mixed with the intoxicating need to harm.

---

David entered the rec room after finally being able to change into something other than a prison jumpsuit. For the moment he wore an extra warden's uniform, plain white scrubs and a pair of bland slip on shoes. The pants were a bit too short, showing his ankles as he stood, arms crossed in front of him, as if daring one of the other patients to make a move on him. A nurse had plastered a bandaid onto his forehead to keep the unseemly sight of blood from putting any of the other patients into a fury.

"You're to be assigned to ward 3 for now." The nurse said staring cooly at him. She'd spent far to long in that place to be intimidated by his prison stare. "You were convicted of a murder, if you misbehave even slightly you'll be moved to Ward 4 and have all wandering privileges removed. Rules are, you must be escorted at all times. DO NOT provoke the other inmates. This isn't max prison anymore."

David merely gave her a toothy grin, baring his sharpened canines. 'Filthy whore.' He thought as he openly stared at her as she walked away. Today was opening day, it was time to establish who the boss was. His gaze fell to Kazue who seemed to be staring at Adair with suspicious intent. David grinned, immediately misunderstanding the situation completely. He whistled loudly. "Lookee there Snow got on 'is matin' stare don't he?" He strode over and ruffled his white hair roughly. "Y'aint doin that fag stuff are ya? All four o' yall look like you dinin' on that rare sausage, am I right?"

He gestured to Emmet, Adair, Yuuji, and Kazue. "Listen, I ain't about that lifestyle, alright? I didn't ask to be put in no ass factory. Any a'yall try that shit with me you'll be eatin' yer slop out a sippy straw, guarantee it."

He winked at them and sauntered his way to the window. "Whatchya got there?" He asked the girl sitting there, a predator's grin still plastered on his face. "Doubt you'll find anythin' better to draw than this beautiful face right here."[/color]

My, oh my, he was popular already wasn't he? Roland hadn't even talked to anyone yet and he had two older patients come to greet him and even the other newbie stopped by before going off to talk to a female patient sitting by the window. Though the other new patient didn't say anything too important for Roland to really consider. He didn't really understand what he said anyway. Rare sausage? What did that have to do with his mirror? Roland saw a couple of other individuals standing back but also watching and waiting and he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to all of these people. It wasn't usually part of his prerogative to be this sociable but he could flow with this. Or at least try to. Right now, the most important thing was to survive long enough to get Adair back from those sons of bitches who took his last soul fragment. He wouldn't let that stand. He was the protector after all. He needed to keep Adair safe no matter what happened. He didn't know this place well enough yet to event try and take it all on himself. It looked like these two white haired patients were going to have to do.

He was quiet for much longer than he probably should have, his mind distracted by his need to regain his mirror. His eyes kept straying back towards the gates where the nurse was sorting through all of the things that were looted from incoming patients. Thief. That is all that person was. Then there was a sentence that caught his attention. "Do you want some help getting it back?" Roland's eyes quickly found the white haired patient that had come up to him last and he seemed to forget that there was someone else who had spoken to him first with welcome and greeting to this hell hole. He reached out and grabbed the second patient by the arms in eagerness as a smile spread over his lips. This one was going to help him achieve his goal. He even bounced a little and chuckled in his sudden glee.

"Yes! Yes I need some help getting it back. I want it back, he needs it and I am his keeper. Roland is my name. You are Yuuji? No, no, the other one is Yuuji," he corrected himself and shook his head, finally glancing back to the other person beside him. "He is Yuuji. Who are you?" he asked then. He even hugged the stranger. "You will help me get it back! Did they take it from you as well? We'll be best friends if we succeed our task. Adair and I help you with yours." He kept jumping back and forth through his conversations but it made logical sense to him. At least his internal voices were quiet for now so he didn't have to deal with them on top of everything else. "How do we start?"

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So many questions! So many people! He didn't know who to give his attention to. He mostly wanted to talk to Kazuko considering he was the one that said he'd help him get the mirror shard back. But then... Yuuji sounded like he may help in this endeavor as well. And then there was Emmett. He was really tall. The stranger towered over him and he found he didn't quite like that. Roland hated to admit it, but he did feel threatened by his size and height. If shit hit the fan he would have a hard time fighting against the big guy. Why was he so curious about what they were discussing? He made no indication if he was going to help them or hinder them either so he wasn’t sure the man was someone he could count on or not.

Before he could sort through anything else, Yuuji had grabbed his arm. Alarmed, he immediately tensed and his eyes narrowed on the white haired male. His hand tightened into a fist as his sleeve was rolled up to reveal the healing scars he obtained from fighting with his father and then scrambling over the mirror shards. It was obvious they were not self inflected or methodological. Yuuji didn’t have his permission to see those old injuries so he quickly pulled his arm out of the man’s grip. And what was he going on about? His needle and thread? He didn’t use a needle and thread though it was obvious to him that this Yuuji person used such things to mark himself up. What was the purpose of the threads? Without thinking, he did extend his own hand to touch a particularly interesting bit of threading on the man’s arm and tilted his head to the side curiously. "What do these threads mean?" he asked then. "They have a purpose that is not obvious and the pattern is very interesting," he mused.

When he had satisfied his own curiosity, he registered the fact that both Kazoku and Yuuji wanted to know what it was exactly he was trying to get back from the nurses. He offered a mischievous little smile and winked. “It is everything, it is simple. It is Adair, it is me. Just a fraction of what it used to be. It is light and glossy, its meaning only conveyed by heart,” he answered. “You will see when we get it back. It hangs on a chain.” He wasn’t going to reveal all of his secrets after all and it was no ones’ business to know exactly what was held within that little piece of glass.


Then the orderly hurried over to them and told them to disperse their activity. He had a mind to go against the man, but if he insisted and they continued this chat, the nurses would get suspicious. He didn’t want to rouse them and put them on high alert. That would only make his mirror harder to obtain. He offered a smile to the nurse instead and gave a nod. He shoved his hands in his pockets then looking for a small sheet of paper that had been given to him earlier. This was a good time to bring it up after all and may offer him a chance to speak with Kazoku more without the nurses getting suspicious. When he finally found it, he cried out ‘aha!’ and unfolded the paper. “Kazoku! Could you show me to my room? I used to be ward 3 back at the place but they dropped me down for good behavior,” he explained and gave Kazoku the paper that stated what his room number was. "I don't know where the rooms are or what ward they put me in."