Village Rose IC

This is the IC thread for Village Rose Psychiatric Facility

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The OOC thread is here.

The Adult section can be found here. (maybe eventually)

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<<Sebastian>>

The lounge situated between the room bays for Groups 19 and 20 was a mostly bare room with a TV hanging from one wall, quite out of reach, some shelves along one wall stacked with board games and books, some plain, hard couches that served as sofas, a couple of low tables with magazines scattered across the surface, and although it was only early December, Christmas music played softly from the speaker system. The walls here were padded and spongy, in a sort of off-white color that probably indicated they'd been there for some time. The floor was linoleum, scratched and dented to show that the furniture did actually get moved around once in awhile.

By one of the windows, a medium-sized, slim man with short auburn hair perched atop a tall bar stool. Bare feet hugged the wooden surface, fingers clenched in white-knuckled fists along the circular edge, and body tucked tightly together. He wore the standard cream-colored, drawstring trousers and loose, linen top supplied to all of the patients who came to the facility without their own clothes. His name and group number were written in permanent marker along the waistband and collar of pants and shirt, respectively.

Outside, rain spattered against the window in a non-stop waterfall, blown against the side of the building by the same wind which had brought the storm earlier that day. The news predicted they would have snow by midnight. For now, thunder rolled ominously overhead and lightning lit up the sky in sudden, unpredictable flashes.

Village Rose was under lock-down, many of the patients drugged to ride out the worst of the storm. All of the staff was present, called in for extra hours due to the storm, and two orderlies watched the members of Group 19.

The patients of Village Rose were arranged in groups based upon shared mental problems. Those in Group 19 believed that there was something trying to kill them, and not just anything, but aliens or monsters, or vampires. They were a small group, and one member smaller than a day earlier.

Jack Smythe, one of the first members, was found dead just that morning. They weren't sure how, the autopsy results weren't back yet, but the police detectives said it looked like he drowned. How? was the big question of the day. One of the nurses found him in the showers, completely dry. Not even the floor was wet.

This, of course, had all the remaining members on edge and the staff watched them closely. None of the men in Group 19 handled the dark well, and the storm had turned the regular, winter afternoon as dark as night.

Sebastian, perched on the stool, was the group's monster fanatic. He was paranoid about furniture that either didn't sit completely flush with the floor or that he couldn't see the feet of, claiming that monsters would grab his ankles and drag him under, to eat him. Sebastian was a murder suspect, but that novelty had worn off some time ago. Now he was just another patient, albeit one they had to watch carefully as he had a tendency to cut or scratch himself bloody.

He was a moody man prone to sudden fits and although they had sedated him at the first signs of storm, he was still visibly tense. This, as he'd claimed before, was perfect "monster weather" and he looked likely to perch on that stool all day (and night) long.

To Sebastian, the rest of the world was filled with idiots. Couldn't they see? Didn't they have eyes? He wasn't making this up! Only Jack had seemed to take him seriously, though Jack had always seemed to have a screw or two loose. After all, who actually believes that the tentacle monster from the Fellowship of the Ring was real? Jack, that's who. Still, he'd been a friend of sorts, and friends were hard to come by when the world believes you capable of horribly and brutally killing a six year-old girl.

The thunder made Sebastian shiver, the lightning sending strange shadows where shadows had no right to be. Rain was good. Water kept the monsters at bay. Sebastian would stay all day in the shower if he could, but the lightning nixed that, so he did the next-best thing, perching atop the one piece of furniture that put him out of reach of the monsters' grubby hands. In a pinch he could climb up and hang from the bars on the windows, if it came to that, but this section of the lounge was his section, completely void of all furniture (other than his stool) and Sebastian had a clear path to the door.

There were others in the room, but Sebastian didn't pay them much mind. They didn't understand him; they were insane. He didn't agree with it, Sebastian knew why he was in the insane asylum. The judge had declared him insane -- idiot.

For Sebastian, living had come down to simply surviving from one day to the next. He'd been dreading winter since summer ended, and this storm was just his worst fears come to life. He had to survive. Bastards. They weren't getting him. He wasn't giving up.

"Y'all can roast in hell," he muttered darkly. "You'll never get me. Ever. Never-ever."

Rafe was folded up on his bed, only his eyes showing, startlingly green compared to all the black he was wearing. A thick hat, thick sweater, scarf wrapped around his mouth, nose and around his neck, jeans clad his legs, tied up in the sheets and three pairs of socks covered his feet up to his knees. He was close to the window so he didn't overheat, but the darkness outside made him stress, so he shook beneath all his clothes, a faint tremor in his body as his eyes flicked back and forth. There was a long cascade of platinum down Rafe's back, his hair poking out from beneath his scarf.

He hated it here, hated this hospital, and the doctors who'd lied to him, who'd told him he'd be out in six months, and he was still here, a year later, still plenty crazy. The vampire klingons were still after him. He closed his eyes, he'd been here a year, and they still couldn't figure that he needed a longer bed. Morons. Longer blankets. Idiots. No, he had to fold himself up in three different ways in order to fit on the bed, and even then his knees and feet and elbows fell off the sides. You would think that after a year they'd smarten up. Of course not. He made a movement to the nearby orderly, gesturing slowly to the woman, most people had picked up a little sign language from him.

'Water.' he asked her and she nodded, hurrying off as he shifted his position on the bed. He looked around, pulling the hat off his head, revealing a thick spill of platinum hair that reached nearly to the bed. The scarf was pulled down, revealing an elegantly sculpted nose and mouth, and he stood, going to the window to look out. Winter was easier to handle, he didn't overheat if it was winter, but, then again, it was harder to tell if They were coming if it was winter. So basically it was a balance between his mental and physical health. A very delicate balance.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned, the orderly, with his water, he nodded to her, and took a drink, folding up on the bed once more, his knees drawn up to his chin, and the glass of water held in his hands between his ankles, his green eyes darting around to keep an eye out for the Klingons, one never knew where they were at a given time.

Shadows. Dark eyes darted from corner to corner, person to person; checking anywhere a Shadow could form. Everywhere. He was watching, waiting from beneath a curtain of even darker hair. They could anywhere. Could pop out at him in the most unexpected places. It hadn't taken him long to find where he was. And now he was stuck here until he got better.

Albert had to laugh. He’d been here month. A month he'd roamed the same halls. A month the doctors had spoken to him everyday he was conscious and aware of them. Everyday, he was told that the minions of Death were not out to deliver his soul to their master. Everyday, he saw one of them. Some days, they just watch, other time they act. They'll appear in the corner of his eyes, if they want to watch and observe. Albert will watch them in turn.

Always. There was always something. He could feel their eyes constantly on him. When they showed themselves directly in his line of site… that was when they meant to attack. Always. He would feel it then. The pain. It started at his heart… That was when he screamed and seized up. When another human touched him, his tormentors retreated. Leaving Al to bleed. A warning of their impending return. It never failed. They were back the next day. Whether they attacked or not didn’t change the fact that they were there. Always there. Around corners, in corners… in his very own shadow. In a nurse’s shadow. They could hide anywhere. And no one believed him!

They didn’t have enough lighting in this place; there were still patches of dark, everywhere furniture stood. More light would be better. Bu, even Al knew that there would always be more, smaller patches of shadow, but just enough for them to form. There truly was not escape.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll give up without a fight.” He growled lowly, taking a mental note of who all he could see from his bed. He kept his back flat against the wall and kept an eye of the other’s in the room. Group 19 shared a room, one massive room, with lots of beds, to create all manner of shadows. He had yet to learn any of his group mates’ names. He was sure he’d heard them before, but they had yet to sit solidly in his mind. He was bad with names. Always had been, it’d taken him three months to learn the name of the girl who would later become his wife. The only name he never forgot was his baby girl’s. Marian had been a happy child, forever smiling and laughing. Sometimes he wondered if it’d be worth it to let the shadows take him, just to see Marian, but something told him that he wouldn’t see her ever again if he didn’t stay alive and find some way to get them off his tail.

<<Sebastian>>

The rain came down harder as the night deepened. Sounds within the facility grew more muffled under the rain's assault and Sebastian shivered where he crouched on his stool. A sudden flash of light, accompanied by a harsh slam of rain against the window made Sebastian jump and the stool wavered. He looked away instinctively, ducking his head and closing his eyes against the assault on his senses ... and that's when he saw it -- them. The wind dashed another watery wall at the window, but Sebastian's eyes were frozen on the space beneath one of the couches in the lounge. Big purple-red and white smears decorated his vision as he blinked quickly, but there was no mistake: they were moving!

Long, hairy arms emerged from under the fake-comfy couch, precede by claws as long as Sebastian's fingers. He stared, eyes going round and breath coming in faster pants. No. The arms paused for a moment, the fur gleaming in the harsh, artificial lighting, each hair twisting and moving like a live thing. All the world narrowed for Sebastian to just him ... and that. The rumbling thunder was distant, the conversations in the lounge non-important. Sebastian didn't even feel the cold on his exposed fingers and toes, the strain in his neck, or even the heaving of his chest.

He stared at the arms. No, no, no, no, no! He had a moment of satisfaction as the arms paused, but then his eyes grew rounder, his breath shorter and faster, as the creature began to move again. It was coming out! No! That couldn't be! He was too far away! Too much space! The people ...! He couldn't glance up to check on the facility aides, still horror-struck by the calamity approaching, until the lights above, in their buzzing, plastic cases, flickered, went out for a second, and then came back on.

There was a second of stunned silence before some of the other patients (the insane ones) startled and got even crazier. Sebastian's eyes stayed trained on the monster coming his way. It had it's head out, now. Sharp, stained-yellow tusks protruded from its mouth, eyes glaring red and huge from within a covering of matted, dark fur. Fluid dripped from a small nose in its boar-like face, its mouth curving upwards into a grotesque smile as it continued to stalk its prey.

"Oh, hell, no," whispered Sebastian.

The lights flickered again, dropping the room into darkness for a handful of heart beats. Sebastian sprang into action with a curse, but the monster was faster, grabbing for his legs even as he fought to haul himself up the barred windows out of reach.

"Fucking bastards!" he screamed over and over. He scrambled, muscles in his arms straining and shivering to pull as he kicked and hollered, never noticing that the lights had come back on, that his monster had transformed into one of the aids who held him by the knees while another readied a syringe.

Sebastian was still mumbling and fighting disjointedly when the sedative turned his muscles to jelly and he dropped. He panicked when his feet hit the floor, but his body wouldn't obey him but to shudder and jerk uncontrollably. The aides muscled him out of the lounge and down the hall a short way to the bedroom and although Sebastian clawed at them, tried to grab the doorway as they went by, they still brought him inside, to his bed.

Someone was speaking into his walkie-talkie, calling for assistance, but Sebastian didn't care. not the bed! Not here! Oh, God! Noooooo!