”If you can get out of this place, you may be rewarded with flight.”
Those words had been racing through Alice Bessette’s head all day, having been said by one of the governing figures of her private universe, the god of Jesters, Iocus. Iocus was a Demi-God of a realm which Alice alone inhabited known as Aeris. Nobody could enter that world beside her, and everyone close to Alice but her knew why. Alice was special to say the least, with a disease that could not be treated completely. Alice was Schizophrenic, and it often appeared that nobody would ever be able to help her with it.
Alice had been committed to Cunningham Hall Asylum for The Insane since noon. Since then she had been the witness to a number of atrocities. Two boys had been killed, for one. Alice didn’t even want to think about the other incidences that had gone on during her time in this place so far. The things that happened were just…too much. Alice often found herself retreating into the second realm which she was forced to inhabit, The Aeris in search of safety. Alice would retreat into her own prison, not a place of safety though. That was the curse of the Aeris.
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Alice stared at the ground in front of her. Breakfast was coming up on her, fast. The schizophrenic rose from her place, stretched and began heading out towards the cell door. The youngest of the three guards had come to retrieve her and the other patients. He was the one who had killed the boy in the middle of the night. The unpleasant taste of bile mixed with hatred was in the back of Alice's throat. Oh, how she already hated that man. If Alice was a violent person (which she wasn't) she would take no hesitation in attacking the boy and attempting to kill him on her own. Murderers were scum, and that was all that there was to it as far as Alice was concerned. Murder was one of the most unforgivable crimes, alongside rape and child abuse.
Alice had a few things on her mind right now to tell the truth. Food was actually of the least of her worries, which was quite surprising since Alice had neglected to eat much of anything the night before. Alice felt like she had butterflies in her stomach. So much had happened the night before, including....Connor. Something about that boy just made Alice go crazy- if she could go any crazier she would. Sadly, that was a very hard thing to achieve when you have Schizophrenia. Alice hated the fact that she couldn't be sane enough to go insane, it was simply ridiculous. The times that anger and hatred consumed Alice were the dangerous times. She would often have to resort to self-harm among other things. Alice glanced around her cell as she was leaving.
Something caught her eye that was lying against the wall in the hallway. It appeared to be a burnt black stick. Alice could recognize that from anywhere. It was charcoal, one of the best artistic tools in the universe. Alice suddenly felt blessed at this finding. She could draw something nice in her cell to look at, possibly even show what her gods looked like. Iocus was the one who would probably be appearing the most often, alongside landscapes and scenes from books that Alice had read over the years. Alice had a good memory, hopefully that would be one of the things that saved her in this hell hole that they called an Asylum. Cunningham Hall was most definitely hell on earth, Alice thought. That was all that there was to it.
Alice's head was throbbing after such a long night of going without sleep as she usually would do. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Alice couldn't function as easily when there was trauma involved- the trauma being from the blood that had been spilled on the Asylum floor the night before....twice. Alice was glad that she had never bothered to get to know either of the boys though, had she gone ahead and became friends with them she would probably be a lot more upset by this than she was in reality. Alice hated that fact. It was simply too hard for her to get to know people. She should be feeling something, dammit! Even still Alice remained as emotional as a two by four, completely blank.
Alice began down the hall, stopping when she reached the charcoal and lifted up from the floor, carefully slipping it into her pocket in a manner which would keep black from getting on her clothes. Her hands were a different story though. She wiped them off on the cold rock walls of the asylum, leaving behind long, black marks that made it look like somebody had been trying to claw their way through the wall and failed epically. Alice hoped that nobody would notice her having the charcoal, she would be good, she only wanted it for artistic purposes, and she really did. Sadly, Alice had a feeling that nobody in this asylum would actually believe her though. Why should they believe her? She was as mad as a March hare.
Alice liked the idea of going ahead and using the charcoal as a way to communicate with some of the other patients late at night. Perhaps she could find an angle where she could write and Connor would be able to see, and maybe she could slip him some of the charcoal as well. This could become a game, Alice thought, her and Connor trying to communicate in any way possible though they were not supposed to. Alice liked the boy, that was true, but whenever she caught herself thinking of him the same voice came into her head to reprimand her about it.
Seida, the controlling b***h of the Aeris world would always be there over her should just waiting for a chance to criticize Alice about her selection of a potential mate. It was almost always the same thing. "why should he like you?" or "what makes you even begin to think that he's interested?" Alice sadly, would often believe the Goddess' lectures, for it was true that practically all of the female patients in Cunningham Halls Cell Block 1 were interested in him. The worst part was that all of them were better in some way or another than Alice. Cassandra was dead-sexy, Kailyn was a sweetheart, Katrina was not only sexy but she was also a social butterfly on top of that. How in the hell could Alice compete with people like that? She was plain, with no particular talents, and she saw things because of a disease that could never be cured.
Though Seida was often nothing short of being unforgiving towards Alice there would always be someone that backed up the gentle Schizophrenic. The amazing demi-god of the jester's Iocus always seemed to be supportive though. Rarely did he insult her, though he would often make accusing comments about the quiet girl that he had intentionally taken under his wing. "One day," he had once said, "I will teach you how to fly my pretty Little Rabbit. Gravity cannot hold you to the Terra forever. I will teach you to fly."
Ever since that incident Alice had always been sure that she had to be immune to gravity, unlike every other human on the earth. But Alice wasn't human, she was Schizophrenic. People often seemed to over complicate that fact claiming that it was a “disease” or that “She’s just looking for attention.” That was something that nobody could ever gauge in truth. Alice didn’t go looking for attention, she just seemed to have it dumped upon her in large quantities. Alice hated few things in the universe more than she hated being fawned over constantly.
Of course, there were other individuals in Cunningham Hall who were left with tormented thoughts about how things were going in their lives. I turn you attention to Nicola, the handsome young Italian who was known as the third guard among a variety of other things by the patients. Nicola was a quiet soul, but the fact that actions spoke louder than words would often make it hard for him to get by. Nicola's mind was currently being tormented by two things- a craving for Nicotine and the fact that the individual that he usually would be placing his attentions upon was often tormenting him with a variety of methods. Sabrina, the gentle nurse, seemed to really enjoy employing the jealousy card to get Nicola's attention. Nicola, did not exactly appreciate it, but it worked.
Nicola brushed his messy raven colored hair out of his eyes, which would usually be shielded by a pair of square frames. He cursed. Nicola was feeling very...antsy to say the least. Over the past few hours he had done a number of things that he was not proud of in any way, shape, or form. Nicola was a little crazy, but as long as he refused to show it he could function as a perfectly normal human being. Whether the other people on staff would believe his pathetic attempts at sanity, however, was another thing altogether. Nicola could usually do pretty well for himself, thought certain things often made it harder to function than they should. It was one of the reasons that the young male often found himself thinking that his life was something out of a movie, more specifically, The Butterfly Effect.
Nicola had been suffering blackouts for a good part of his life, probably beginning when he was only eleven years old with a horrible incident involving his manic-depressive elder sister. Her name was Antonia, and she wasn't that much older than him to tell the truth. The only thing that really separated him and her was about three thousand miles and two hours of life. So little kept Nicola away from her. What was it then, which often conveyed him to call her at the most random times and then not even talk to her when she picked up? Nicola always had to wonder about that fact. He could never seem to fathom what was so wrong with his speaking to Antonia that he would be driven to avoid talking when he had contact with his sister.
Nicola glanced at a sign on the stone walls angrily. It was one of the many "No Smoking" signs that decorated the asylum walls, making it's message all too clear. The worst thing was that Nicola didn't care about whether he obeyed the signs anymore. Getting in trouble with the resident nurses and the social worker, along with his boss, were suddenly the last of his worries as he took no hesitance in removing and lighting a cigarette that he had in his pocket with the lighter that currently accompanied it. The young Italian cursed as the flame licked at his fingertip when he lit the cigarette. He tried desperately to shake that from his mind. Burns were not usually things that would- or could affect him in real life. Nicola was much, much, stronger than that.
Nicola squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, how the light burned his eyes.
Those words had been racing through Alice Bessette’s head all day, having been said by one of the governing figures of her private universe, the god of Jesters, Iocus. Iocus was a Demi-God of a realm which Alice alone inhabited known as Aeris. Nobody could enter that world beside her, and everyone close to Alice but her knew why. Alice was special to say the least, with a disease that could not be treated completely. Alice was Schizophrenic, and it often appeared that nobody would ever be able to help her with it.
Alice had been committed to Cunningham Hall Asylum for The Insane since noon. Since then she had been the witness to a number of atrocities. Two boys had been killed, for one. Alice didn’t even want to think about the other incidences that had gone on during her time in this place so far. The things that happened were just…too much. Alice often found herself retreating into the second realm which she was forced to inhabit, The Aeris in search of safety. Alice would retreat into her own prison, not a place of safety though. That was the curse of the Aeris.
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Alice stared at the ground in front of her. Breakfast was coming up on her, fast. The schizophrenic rose from her place, stretched and began heading out towards the cell door. The youngest of the three guards had come to retrieve her and the other patients. He was the one who had killed the boy in the middle of the night. The unpleasant taste of bile mixed with hatred was in the back of Alice's throat. Oh, how she already hated that man. If Alice was a violent person (which she wasn't) she would take no hesitation in attacking the boy and attempting to kill him on her own. Murderers were scum, and that was all that there was to it as far as Alice was concerned. Murder was one of the most unforgivable crimes, alongside rape and child abuse.
Alice had a few things on her mind right now to tell the truth. Food was actually of the least of her worries, which was quite surprising since Alice had neglected to eat much of anything the night before. Alice felt like she had butterflies in her stomach. So much had happened the night before, including....Connor. Something about that boy just made Alice go crazy- if she could go any crazier she would. Sadly, that was a very hard thing to achieve when you have Schizophrenia. Alice hated the fact that she couldn't be sane enough to go insane, it was simply ridiculous. The times that anger and hatred consumed Alice were the dangerous times. She would often have to resort to self-harm among other things. Alice glanced around her cell as she was leaving.
Something caught her eye that was lying against the wall in the hallway. It appeared to be a burnt black stick. Alice could recognize that from anywhere. It was charcoal, one of the best artistic tools in the universe. Alice suddenly felt blessed at this finding. She could draw something nice in her cell to look at, possibly even show what her gods looked like. Iocus was the one who would probably be appearing the most often, alongside landscapes and scenes from books that Alice had read over the years. Alice had a good memory, hopefully that would be one of the things that saved her in this hell hole that they called an Asylum. Cunningham Hall was most definitely hell on earth, Alice thought. That was all that there was to it.
Alice's head was throbbing after such a long night of going without sleep as she usually would do. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Alice couldn't function as easily when there was trauma involved- the trauma being from the blood that had been spilled on the Asylum floor the night before....twice. Alice was glad that she had never bothered to get to know either of the boys though, had she gone ahead and became friends with them she would probably be a lot more upset by this than she was in reality. Alice hated that fact. It was simply too hard for her to get to know people. She should be feeling something, dammit! Even still Alice remained as emotional as a two by four, completely blank.
Alice began down the hall, stopping when she reached the charcoal and lifted up from the floor, carefully slipping it into her pocket in a manner which would keep black from getting on her clothes. Her hands were a different story though. She wiped them off on the cold rock walls of the asylum, leaving behind long, black marks that made it look like somebody had been trying to claw their way through the wall and failed epically. Alice hoped that nobody would notice her having the charcoal, she would be good, she only wanted it for artistic purposes, and she really did. Sadly, Alice had a feeling that nobody in this asylum would actually believe her though. Why should they believe her? She was as mad as a March hare.
Alice liked the idea of going ahead and using the charcoal as a way to communicate with some of the other patients late at night. Perhaps she could find an angle where she could write and Connor would be able to see, and maybe she could slip him some of the charcoal as well. This could become a game, Alice thought, her and Connor trying to communicate in any way possible though they were not supposed to. Alice liked the boy, that was true, but whenever she caught herself thinking of him the same voice came into her head to reprimand her about it.
Seida, the controlling b***h of the Aeris world would always be there over her should just waiting for a chance to criticize Alice about her selection of a potential mate. It was almost always the same thing. "why should he like you?" or "what makes you even begin to think that he's interested?" Alice sadly, would often believe the Goddess' lectures, for it was true that practically all of the female patients in Cunningham Halls Cell Block 1 were interested in him. The worst part was that all of them were better in some way or another than Alice. Cassandra was dead-sexy, Kailyn was a sweetheart, Katrina was not only sexy but she was also a social butterfly on top of that. How in the hell could Alice compete with people like that? She was plain, with no particular talents, and she saw things because of a disease that could never be cured.
Though Seida was often nothing short of being unforgiving towards Alice there would always be someone that backed up the gentle Schizophrenic. The amazing demi-god of the jester's Iocus always seemed to be supportive though. Rarely did he insult her, though he would often make accusing comments about the quiet girl that he had intentionally taken under his wing. "One day," he had once said, "I will teach you how to fly my pretty Little Rabbit. Gravity cannot hold you to the Terra forever. I will teach you to fly."
Ever since that incident Alice had always been sure that she had to be immune to gravity, unlike every other human on the earth. But Alice wasn't human, she was Schizophrenic. People often seemed to over complicate that fact claiming that it was a “disease” or that “She’s just looking for attention.” That was something that nobody could ever gauge in truth. Alice didn’t go looking for attention, she just seemed to have it dumped upon her in large quantities. Alice hated few things in the universe more than she hated being fawned over constantly.
Of course, there were other individuals in Cunningham Hall who were left with tormented thoughts about how things were going in their lives. I turn you attention to Nicola, the handsome young Italian who was known as the third guard among a variety of other things by the patients. Nicola was a quiet soul, but the fact that actions spoke louder than words would often make it hard for him to get by. Nicola's mind was currently being tormented by two things- a craving for Nicotine and the fact that the individual that he usually would be placing his attentions upon was often tormenting him with a variety of methods. Sabrina, the gentle nurse, seemed to really enjoy employing the jealousy card to get Nicola's attention. Nicola, did not exactly appreciate it, but it worked.
Nicola brushed his messy raven colored hair out of his eyes, which would usually be shielded by a pair of square frames. He cursed. Nicola was feeling very...antsy to say the least. Over the past few hours he had done a number of things that he was not proud of in any way, shape, or form. Nicola was a little crazy, but as long as he refused to show it he could function as a perfectly normal human being. Whether the other people on staff would believe his pathetic attempts at sanity, however, was another thing altogether. Nicola could usually do pretty well for himself, thought certain things often made it harder to function than they should. It was one of the reasons that the young male often found himself thinking that his life was something out of a movie, more specifically, The Butterfly Effect.
Nicola had been suffering blackouts for a good part of his life, probably beginning when he was only eleven years old with a horrible incident involving his manic-depressive elder sister. Her name was Antonia, and she wasn't that much older than him to tell the truth. The only thing that really separated him and her was about three thousand miles and two hours of life. So little kept Nicola away from her. What was it then, which often conveyed him to call her at the most random times and then not even talk to her when she picked up? Nicola always had to wonder about that fact. He could never seem to fathom what was so wrong with his speaking to Antonia that he would be driven to avoid talking when he had contact with his sister.
Nicola glanced at a sign on the stone walls angrily. It was one of the many "No Smoking" signs that decorated the asylum walls, making it's message all too clear. The worst thing was that Nicola didn't care about whether he obeyed the signs anymore. Getting in trouble with the resident nurses and the social worker, along with his boss, were suddenly the last of his worries as he took no hesitance in removing and lighting a cigarette that he had in his pocket with the lighter that currently accompanied it. The young Italian cursed as the flame licked at his fingertip when he lit the cigarette. He tried desperately to shake that from his mind. Burns were not usually things that would- or could affect him in real life. Nicola was much, much, stronger than that.
Nicola squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, how the light burned his eyes.
