Whitley Duke Psychiatric Center // Rp thread // REMAKE // SIGN-UP LINK INSIDE

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    Luke "Lucifer" Wolfe

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    "I understand." Luke said, not looking up from his drawing as he continued, "I do not wish to change you, and even if I did, I can't make you change." He stopped drawing and looked over at Rose, "I am simply commenting on what could be an option, but if you wish to remain the same then I guess it wasn't an option, I apologize for assuming." He finished his drawing and slid a finger along the perforated edge and flashed the drawing in front of the girl, how curious it was, a rose with it's petals so soft, painted red and dampened by the morning. The girl was like a rose, though beautiful she had a rather... Prickly side, like a cactus, though he'd never call her one, cactuses were never pleasant, but she could be. "The name Rose, it truly suits you... You know." Luke said, looking at her, she had really pretty eyes, but being able to read them made him wish they weren't so alluring, not that he was attracted to her, it was an observation, don't get him confused with someone who was hopelessly in love, the only thing he loved was symmetry and her symmetry was imbalanced. "Hello, January~" He said, looking past Rose to give the girl a smile and a wave.


    January jumped, and made a squeeking noise. People scared her, but soon she realized only one was talking and looking at him. "H-hello... Luke." She said quietly, claiming herself down. Casting a glance at him, she gave a shaky smile to the male. But just as quickly las she smiled did he look away and at her notebook hiding in the hood of her parka.

    May took a mental note of everyone in the room, so many different stories and issues it was in comparison to a rainbow. She scoffs at herself, a rainbow? More along the lines of a thunder cloud, with its melancholy colors and flashes of lightening woth the frequent occasions of a thunder so loud that it shook the earth. The rain distorting every little image, a sad, raging, bipolar, chaotic, heap of gray. That seems to be all they were. A monochromatic mess of conjoined issues blurring together, to confuse reality and dream. Simple, the out break of thunder were the ones May was always most compelled to

    Luke "Lucifer" Wolfe

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    "You look lovely as usual~" Luke said, smiling at her though she wasn't looking, this was a daily thing for him, complimenting so that she might eventually overcome those nerves of hers. He set the drawing down and looked up, eyes closing as he quietly sang the only song he remembered from the time before he got to the asylum, from a Disney movie if he remembered right... Pocahontas?, was it? Colors of the Wind, ah, how beautiful it sounded in his memories, he looked back down, still singing but he began to sketch something else on his paper, long flowing line stretched from the lead as he drew.


    "Guise..."

    May recognized the song, her head phones sat in her lap as she listened carefully to the hushed singing coming from another part of the room. She remembered playing this song for her middle school band, oh how music could link so precisely to memories. She kept her ears trained on Luke's voice for a while, her eyes not wanting to leave his artistic hands. She took a dip into her day dreams, the ones that consisted of being free from this hell. She zoned out but never once lost her hold on what was actuallt happening, since one of her senses was focused so acutely on a lovely tune.

    Luke "Lucifer" Wolfe

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    Luke didn't lift his eyes from the page as he drew, though he felt the sensation of someone looking at him, even this didn't remove his eyes as his soothing voice drifted through the room, his hand curving lines, flowing like a river, how he wished he had such colors at his disposal at the time, if he did, his drawings might come alive as they did in his mind. His eyes followed the pencil, which in turn followed his eyes, neither being more important as he drew, distractions were driven out by the sound of his own voice, though he felt it was just as good as anyone else's he'd been told otherwise, and the memory of kind words warmed his already cozy heart, it was a good feeling, though so was the cold unless it was in someone's words, which hurt him greatly and had started his silence, as the warmth had ended it.

    Rose snatched the picture from the couch before it had the chance to smudge studying it carefully. All to calmly she stood her throat constricting making breathing a little hard as the heat of tears burnt her eyes blurring her vision. She tried to say something anything but the feeling the choking feeling kept her voice from sounding. Oh how easy had he quick it inside the walls, that was always what happened first. Next was isolation. Talking only with the demons that pulled her thoughts to pieces. Only 3 weeks ago had she last gotten over this stage. Her roommate had been there as she sat in a corner unmoving sometimes giggling sometimes sobbing s she spoke with herself, not out loud of course. as she made it back to the room she placed the drawing where she hoped it would be safe and slipped into the warmth of the bed. A drowsy heat encased her leaving her sleepy with no where to go. Sleep I cannot Why? Is the little girl afraid of the dark? Shut up you are the reason I can't sleep Afraid of the voices is it? I am not scared. Ha, a useless piece of trash is all i see. A broken piece to damaged to fix. They don't take the time for you. They don't care about you. you are nothing but a piece of trash left to rot in here. Your on parents didn't love you enough to keep you did they. Stop it. You protest because you know it's true. she curled into a ball sometimes other voices defended her most of the time they joined in.

    May quickly got up and followed her room mate after a debate with "herself" if her company would even be wanted. Delilah pushed her forward, she stumbled, but continued where Rose's body had retreated.May calmly entered the room and aat on the edge of her own bed. Her eyes empathetically scanned Rose's Cacooned body, "Hey Rose," she started, "I know it can be hard tp relax and or sleep when in this state..." May trailed on, not in the least trying to come off as showy or pedantic. "I was wondering if there was any way I could help? I know you dont like talking it out too much, but you're always welcome to drown them out with my headphones, could buy any song you like." May offered her distraught room mate

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    [size=25pt]AGLAIA[/size]
    I had an angel on my shoulder,

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    Rose barely even heard her room mast over the insults being screamed t her. Slowly her hands wrpped around her head and she mumbled something about never being able to sleep. she pressed her hands further and a muffled sob escaped her lips. It repeated the insults her parents had called her the insults classmates called her. It proceeded t tear her apart from the inside out.



    not my wrists

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    [font=times new roman][color=Maroon]but the devil always won.


    [font=arial][color=red][size=5pt]©callie, edited by frostiful


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    May watched at a loss for what she should do, comforting was always awkward and didnt seem all too welcome right now. My oh my, she hated this feeling. Rose was obviously in a mental state of pain and there was nothing may could attempt to do without it being wrong. "Rose, hey now, its alright. Come back to reality, they're just lying to you. Memories are a bitch, I know I know, but its gonna be ok. Every bull crap thing someone has said was a lie. You're wonderful. I promise." May tried to get through to her room mate.

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    All the drama flew through the room with a whirl and then seemed to fade just as quickly. That was how life always was for Erin. It passed her by, and she left blinking in the blur of actions. Her hand was sketching, but her brain wasn't connected- she didn't really know what was being drawn out. Her dark gaze darted around the room, carefully assessing everyone. There was someone she didn't recognize, and she almost asked who they were, but then the figure stood and began to growl at her. Fear pulsed through her brain, and her hand feverishly scratched at the paper. The person dropped to their hands and knees, growing bat-like wings. Her pencil struggled to try and banish the vision with a drawing. Her eyes were wide, but no noise was coming past her lips.

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    [size=9px]The strawberry blonde boy sat at the lone desk in the room her shared with two others. His fingers drummed across the surface, skirting along the edges. He glanced behind his shoulder, checking for anyone who could stealthily enter the room and sneak up on him. No one. His mind turned to his new roommates, who seemed okay. At least, neither seemed like they were going to murder him in cold blood. That he was grateful for. Moments passed, his feet moving towards the room everyone always seemed to be in.


    Though he would never admit it, he was lonely. Humans craved attention, that much he knew. But Jack didn't have to act like he wanted to speak with others. The others here, they had issues like him. Some more severe, and others more common. None of them had much control over themselves. Maybe this was the reason Jack decided to go. At least these people had something in common with him. So he stood there in the entrance to the room, watching the people in it. There was a girl, Rose, he thought, curling up on the floor, most likely in a state of mental pain. A panic attack maybe. The other girl, May, stood over her, concerned. Jack felt as though the girl would hit the other, and his anxiety level rose. yet he stood there, and watched, afraid of what may happen.

    (Rose is having a panic attack in her room, May is trying to help but when people are scared its hard to break through to them. Erin is dozing off again. Luke is reminiscing about Disney or something. I don't know, phone is laggig a bit and I can't check much too efficiently.)


    Sometimes a nurse woman, one who's name Aisley wasn't able to remember, came in here and shook the boy out of bed. Sometimes. While it only happened at most twice a week, the disorder of the patterns was aggrevating. Stupid woman needed tomake up her mind. Luckily, today was not one of those days, but one where he was jolted awake by those monotonous speaker voices.


    The brown haired teenager grumbled as he made his way to the kitchen. Unlike some of the other kids, his only medicine was prozac, anxiety pills occasionally. Sticking his tongue out at the drug-controlling nurse, he downed the pills with a (tastes like plastic and dirt) cup of water, grabbed a bagel and sat down in his usual seat of the kitchen, a table away from the door.

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    [size=9px]Then, Jack realized it. A jolt of memory shot through him. His medicine. How had he forgotten. The room nurse had woken him up and instructed him to head down to the kitchens to take it, but he never did. Idiot him. Spinning on his heel, he made the familiar route down towards it. Jack tried not to run, and it resulted in him speed walking. But honestly, it was bad if he didn't take it. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't. Blue-green eyes flicked around as he entered the kitchen, resting on the brown haired boy who looked vaguely familiar. Adam, Aaron, no. That wasn't his name. Aisley? That sounded right. About.


    Stalking over to the cabinet, he grabbed the five bottles full of medicine. Jack barely knew what each did for him anymore. All he knew was the order they had to be taken in. And so he downed them, washing them down with water. The first time Jack took the pills, it had been hard. After four years, it wasn't so hard anymore. Glancing at the other boy, he narrowed his eyes. Sure, he looked like he was just eating, but who knew? He could be planning something sinister. Jack grabbed a piece of toast, and sat down across from him, where Jack could see his every movement.

    Gnawing on the lower part of the bagel, Aisley boredly stared back at the older ward. Nerdy glasses, that was about all there was to note, aside from the way he was staring. Paranoid, glasses, his name's Jack. Probably. At least it begins with a J. Maybe he would freak out if Aisley said the wrong name. There were some odd people around here.


    Taking another chunk of the bagel and putting his head down to avoid Jack's stare, 'Creepy, bro.' the 16 year old leaned forward in his seat. 'Yeah, this guy's been here longer than I have, probably has an even more messed up brain than I do.' The medicine supervisor was tapping her foot, a noise that suddenly stuck out to Aisley. Turning his gaze up to the irate worker showed she was checking the meds again. Why were those so important? Moving his eyes again found Jack. "Oh yeah." 'You aren't supposed to say your comments out loud! Only around the head-shrink!'

    Dixon only sat quietly to himself, finishing his butterfly, landing on a child-like figure, which probably represented him as a young boy. He imagined the Monarch that had been flying that day in his wooded backyard. He remembered how soft and gentle the butterfly had landed on his nose, its long, stick-like legs barely touching his skin, balancing the luxurious insect. He remembered how it flew away, to suckle on more flowers.

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    [size=9px]Jack narrowed his eyes, and took a bite out of the toast. It was flavorless, like most of the food available. Still, he wasn't complaining. Sometimes the chefs actually tried. Jack brushed a stray lock of strawberry blonde hair out of his face, and turned his attention elsewhere. The younger boy didn't seem like a threat, at least, for now.


    Polishing off the last bit of toast, Jack stood, and adjusted his jacket. Walking over to the fridge tatie, he grabbed a water bottle and began to drink, ignoring a nurse who had just come in. She was blabbing about something, Jack honestly didn't care.

    He got up from his seat and continued his way back to his room. He didn't sleep the night before. He was scared of the dark. Dixon skipped up the stairs two at a time, leaving the crowded day room and heading towards his room, where he sat down on he bead and closed his eyes, quietly remembering his peaceful childhood days.