Realistic or Modern Asylum

[king5ter]

Everyone has a breaking point. You're long past yours.


There's mental asylums, and then there's Westridge. Westridge is for the ones that nowhere else will take. The ones with no control or boundaries. The ones who have nothing else.


You are a prisoner in the asylum. Why are you there? What exactly is wrong with you? How long have you been there? Will you ever leave?


There is no escape. There is no freedom.





Some basic rules:

• It doesn't have to be perfect, but try to keep grammar correct.
  
• No one-liners. Try to write a minimum of 3 or 4 sentences per entry.
  
• But no novels. Which means don't write huge, page-spanning entries that take forever to read. Try to keep it to a maximum of 5 or 6 paragraphs. I won't enforce the rule strictly, but don't do anything extreme, like write 3 pages worth of content in one post.
  
• Don't control others characters. You can interact with them, but don't say what they do/how they react.
  
• Graphic violence and strong language is allowed, but fade to black when necessary.
  
• Try to follow the plot lines. There are some plot lines which I'll add in the overview tab that should be followed. This isn't to say that you should only follow the plot lines, as I want some character driven plots as well, but don't go veering off in another direction without asking anyone.
  
• And finally, be creative! Make your characters three-dimensional. Give them strengths and weaknesses. Create their own personal demons. These are your characters, remember! Play with them as much as you want. Reward or torture them as you see fit.
  

Please create a character in the character sign-up tab first before you start. I'll put another post up once we have enough characters to start playing.

 

[king5ter]

Quentin stared at the peculiar man watching him through the window. Everything about him was just wrong. His spectacles were wonky on his nose, his terrible wig was lopsided, and his choice of dress was, well...horrendous. This couldn't be allowed to go on. He turned away from the glass and walked to the door on the other side of the room. It was a big, heavy door, but was never normally locked. The prisoners were allowed to roam free around the asylum. They were constantly being monitored, so they couldn't do anything anyways.


He headed down to the library, just a few corridors away from his room. The librarian, Fleur, was sitting behind her desk reading a book. Quentin ignored her and walked to his usual reading spot. From there he lifted the book on World War One and pulled out the pistol hidden behind it.


"Time for some fun." He murmured to himself, a grin spreading across his face.

 

[jinkx]

Phoebe was wandering the halls, one hand pressed against the wall. Blood stained the wall as she walked, dripping from the self inflicted bite marks in her hand. She wasn't allowed knives. Which was a shame because she'd always had a lot of fun with knives. She hummed to herself, liking the feeling of the wet blood on her hand and the sound of her barefeet against the floor. She liked the way her heart quickened when she lost blood, giving her a thrill that was almost like love.


She didn't like people. She didn't like their whispers of words or the way their blood flowed steadily under their skin or the light in their eyes. That was why she'd killed those people after all. She wanted to see it again; choking last breaths, the lights behind their eyes flickering off, their hands turning still and brittle. The warmth seeping from their bodies. The beautiful scarlet liquid spilling onto the floor.


It was a work of art, the human body. And art deserved to be displayed for all to see.


With that in mind, Phoebe continued down the corridor, a little wary that she might bump into someone. She stopped humming abruptly and crept on in silence, a dark look on her face. She missed killing people. But more than that, she missed the beauty that she could create. Maybe she could kill again soon. All art required was a sharp object.

 

[Hiddencard]

Sam was an entirely new residence to the asylum. The atmosphere was heavy and he felt the fog of ‘crazy’ everywhere around him, and he was sure any other person would have shuddered upon entering. He had just been let inside, wearing a brand-new set of bland clothes. His parents had not told him properly goodbye, and he was sure they were actually relieved that someone else would be the ones to ‘take care of him’, so they could set aside the problem of having a psychopathic child. That word had been so misinterpreted in Sam’s opinion. He didn’t feel “crazy”. He felt like he saw things that other people didn’t. Knew how to express himself in another way…. suppose that was what crazy was to most people though.


The doors closed behind him, and he looked around. He saw a few people who was talking to themselves, and one banging his head into the wall. He huffed, and then continued down the hall. Sam might be mentally interrupted, but he didn’t have a constant desire to harm. He only did it when he had to. That’s when he noticed a girl with blood on her hands. She was dragging a track along the wall, and Sam stopped walking, watching her creep in the shadow.


He tilted his head. “That looks painful,” he commented simply, although he made no attempt to block her path.

 

[jinkx]

A boy. Just amazing. With an eye roll, Phoebe let her hand fall to her side and clenched it into a fist. Blood trickled from between her knuckles, the marks deepening as she put pressure on them.


"Painful... Yeah..." she said, sarcastically, "I'm crippled on the floor dying from pain. It's only some blood, you idiot." It wasn't as if she'd impaled herself on a fence or something. It didn't hurt, not at all. The blood dripping from her hands made her feel a little light headed but nothing more. It certainly wasn't painful or anything.


"You can stop talking now. Unless you want to be my new art project." Phoebe said, looking at him, "I haven't made any art in a while." She wished she had a knife. Maybe she could find one somewhere. There had to be one somewhere.

 

[king5ter]

Quentin remembered that he'd also left a knife and a grenade back there. He left the grenade for now and took the knife, sliding it into his back pocket. With the gun hidden in his jacket and the knife safely stowed away, he made his way back out of the library with a random book in hand so as to not seem suspicious.


In the corridor outside, Phoebe was face to face with a new resident whom Quentin did not know by name. He slowly approached them and whispered playfully in Phoebe's ear:


"I've got a present for you. I'll leave it in your room." He continued walking and stopped by Phoebe's room to leave the knife in there. He then continued onward, past his own room and towards the warden's office. It was time to get down to business.

 

[Hiddencard]

Sam’s gaze stayed on her, measuring her up and down for a moment. “Guess I was mistaken then,” he said simply, almost sounding a bit amused. He really wondered what kind of crap facility would let their patients go around cutting up their hands though, but he supposed it was not really his job to handle if she didn’t want his help. He walked over toward her, and started reaching out his hand, but then he noticed that her palms were practically covered in blood and instead he took a hold of her wrist and shook her ‘hand’ without getting blood on himself. “I’m Sam, for further reference,” he told her simply and let go. Then he stepped back again with a cheerful smile. “I will be out of your hair then,” he said, since she seemed to not want to really talk with him.


A strange person walked up to her and whispered something to her, and he just looked at the person curiously. Although he couldn’t hear what they were discussing.

 

[jinkx]

She jerked back in surprise as he grabbed her wrist.


"Don't touch me!" Phoebe snapped, "I swear to god, I'll-" That was when Quentin came up behind her. She could recognise his voice easily. A present. A present.... That could only mean... Something sharp, preferably a knife. She found herself trailing down the corridor, as if in a trance. Her breathing quickened.


"Knife... Knife!" she said, excitedly as she broke into a run, "Knife, knife, knife, knife, knife!" She kicked the door to her room open and there it was. Shining in the little light that streamed into the room, as if a gift from the angels, was a knife. She picked it up, smiling at the sharp blade. Yes! Now, she could create worlds of beauty! After all, what was more beautiful than the smooth blood that flowed from the dead?

 

[king5ter]

Soon Quentin was outside the warden's office. It wasn't the warden himself that he was killing. No. That would be far too dangerous. It was the asylum's psychiatrist, a certain Marcus Jalentus. Mr Jalentus had become a problem for not only Quentin, but most of the inmates. He was keeping them under surveillance 24/7. There was no freedom. They had just fine without him, and once he was gone, a lot of people would be happy.


He knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked again. Still no answer. Gently, he pushed the door open.


Inside was chaos. Papers were scattered everywhere, wires lay severed on the floor, the light swung back and forth manically.


And then there was the blood.


The walls looked like they had been painted red. At first Quentin thought it was Phoebe's work, but he soon realized that if it had been Phoebe, it would be much more artistic and beautiful. Quentin walked further into the room.


Then he saw the body. And it wasn't the warden.


No.


No.


NO.


It was Aaron.


Aaron was Quentin's only childhood friend. They'd grown up together, drawn to each other by their similar psychopathic tendencies. They had been admitted to the asylum at a similar time, and Aaron was the only person whom Quentin could ever truly trust.


And now he was dead.


Standing there at that moment, Quentin vowed to find his killed and avenge his death- whatever it took.


He slipped out of the room. He would've been seen by the camera, but then so would the murderer, so suspicion wouldn't be placed on Quentin.


In the heat of the moment he had forgotten about his plan. He headed back to his room, and simply sat down and curled up into a ball.

 

[jinkx]

Blood trickled down the inside of her wrist as she pressed the blade to the top of her wrist. The vein broke and blood flew everywhere as she spun around. She heard footsteps outside of her door and looked around, catching Quentin heading past.


"Hm?" Phoebe murmured, slicing another line across her wrist, "The hell's his problem?" She didn't normally get involved in other people's affairs. But he had just given her a gift, an amazing gift. She wasn't the greatest at social cues but she knew that she should return Quentin's gift somehow. Slicing a third line across her wrist and watched the blood drip onto her bed streets. The patterns swirled into circles and hearts.


Sighing, Phoebe wiped her knife on the sheets and slid the knife under her mattress. She couldn't be caught with a knife, they'd take it away. She didn't want them to take it away. She needed it.


"Quentin..." Phoebe swayed a little to the left as she walked towards the door, "Woah... Quentin!" She stumbled from her room and down the corridor, bumping into the walls. She didn't get so much as an odd look.


"Quentin!" It took a few moments to realised that the door was open.


"Quentin... You look upset..." said the girl with the bleeding wrists, "What's going on?"

 

[king5ter]

Quentin looked up at the girl standing in front of him. Blood trickled from her arm, but he didn't care. He just wanted to be left alone. He stayed silent and rocked back and forth.


"What's going on?"


Quentin looked up, tears in his eyes."GET OUT! JUST GO! LEAVE ME ALONE! WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?" He pushed himself up and pulled out the pistol, pointing it at Phoebe's head. "No. You know what? Let's have some fun." A sinister smile edged it's way onto his face. All the pain, all the desperation had been forgotten in a single second.


He held the pistol tight in his hand. "Make one move and I will kill you before you can even blink."

 

[jinkx]

Where the hell did he get a gun? Well, whatever.


"You're going to shoot me?" Phoebe said, in a bored tone, "How uncreative. I expected better of you, Quinten." She'd thought if he'd killed her, he'd at least be smart about it.


"At least send my remains to my family afterwards, hm?" She smiled, wryly, "I expect they'd like to see the pieces of my body that remain after you kill me." She lifted her hand, slowly. She waggled her fingers at Quinten, in a small wave.


"Whoops, I moved." she said, her blood dripping onto the floor, "Are you going to shoot me now?"

 

[king5ter]

Quentin threw the gun away. "You're right. Shooting is boring. I'll say this once. Fuck off."


He turned away and laid down on his bed. He could still sense Phoebe's presence in the room, but he no longer cared. He had to control himself. Dark voices swirled through his head, telling him to do all kinds of twisted things. Some of them actually sounded pretty good. It was taking a lot of willpower to stay there in the bed.

 

[jinkx]

"Somebody's in a mood!" Phoebe said, in a sing song voice, "What happened? You're so... Irritable today." She was mocking him now, enjoying the dark look on his face. He looked as if he might snap and kill her at any second. And Phoebe found it oddly entertaining.


"Was somebody mean to little Quentin?" Phoebe pouted, "Did somebody make you sad? Well, boo hoo." She crossed her arms, a little intrigued.


"Why won't you tell me what's going on?" she added, in a more serious tone, "I want to know."

 

[king5ter]

Quentin sighed and sat up. "Fine. If it makes you shut up, I'll tell you. I found Aaron dead in the warden's office."


He wasn't surprised that he was so blunt about it. Death happened so often in the asylum that they would talk about it like it was a regular thing.


"I think the warden killed him, but I don't know for certain. I guess we'll find out soon enough. Now I'm going somewhere quiet. Don't follow me."





He left the room and headed back towards the library. When he needed peace, he would always read to take his mind off of things. There wasn't much else to do in the asylum. As he walked into the library, something seemed different. The librarian was there as usual, but there was an air of oddity to him. Something stood out, but he couldn't quite place his finger on what it was. Quentin thought about it and headed off towards the books. There were thousands of books here. Quentin had been here for five years and he still hadn't read even half of them. He picked up a crime novel and headed over to a beanbag, where he sat down and began to read.

 

[jinkx]

Aaron was Quentin's friend, his closest friend. Even Phoebe knew that much. So, that was why Quentin was so upset. Hm. She turned and watched him leave, wondering if she should follow. He said not to and... Wait, why would she want to follow him? Screw him. Phoebe wandered back to her room and recovered her knife. It was still crusted with her blood.


She sat back down on her bed and just looked down at her knife. She turned it over in her hands, her fingers scraping along the edge of the blade. She was bored. She needed to create something. She got up again, feeling fidgety.


She walked until she found a blank corridor wall, which didn't take long, and then she dragged the blade across her arm again. And she used the blood like paint, to paint beautiful patterns onto the walls. A series of blood red flowers, the stems entwined. Somebody was going to be angry when they found this later. She wrote her name underneath, before collapsing against the wall. Phoebe sat down beside her picture and carved her name into the floor with her knife to pass the time.

 

[Allina Auburn]

Poppy sat in her room shaking "I want to die," she screamed over and over the sound of her voice echoing against the cold unfriendly walls. She rose to her feet and trundled over to the door kicking it over and over until her bare dirty feet bleed and bleed "Let Me Out," she screamed hysterically. A guard cam and unlocked the door trying to grab her arm but she was to quick she grabbed his gun and fled sprinting to the library she scrambled up the bookcase and sat crouched like a demon on the top. Four guards stormed in and shouted at her to get down one started to approach the bookcase "Don't, If you try and get me I will jump off," She said putting a gun to her neck "I don't want them to hurt you," she pleaded as she put her finger on the trigger.

 

[king5ter]

Quentin heard a commotion coming from the other side of the library. He saw Poppy run past and a bunch of guards chase after her. Sighing, he put the book down and got up from the beanbag. This was the third time this week. She needed to stop with the drama. It was getting frustrating.


"Poppy!" He yelled. "Poppy! Get down from there!"


The guards looked at him, almost begging. It seemed he would be the only one who could get her down. He noticed the gun.


"Poppy! Put that down! You know this isn't right!"


He had to do something fast, otherwise this could end badly.


"Poppy, I'm counting to three. If you're not down, I'm coming up to get you."

 

[Allina Auburn]

"Don't , please I'll hurt you," she screamed pressing the trigger a tiny bit her Brown hair flowed freely in the wind and her face screamed help me she lay flat gun in her mouth and sighed her eyelids fluttered closed and her arms lay limp against the side of the book shelf and then it fell.


The bookshelf tumbled down all the book with it Poppy's nimble body fell through piles of books her hand slipped and she lost the gun I the mess she started to scream again "Just kill me, Just kill me," over and over as guards dragged her to her room and locked her in she started to cry "Help me," she said between sobs

 

[Hiddencard]

Samson had ventured onwards in the asylum, talking to a few people, but they were mostly blabbering about nonsense that he didn’t find interesting. Then he came to another corridor where he noticed the girl with the bloody hands again. Except.. she was more bloody this time. He put his hands in the pockets and stopped in front of her again, just like he had done last time. He looked up at the wall that was painted with crimson flowers, looking like he was determining wether he liked it or not with his head tilted.


His eyes turned to something else though, as he heard loud screams from one of the patients that was dragged out of the library and back toward her cell. His eyebrows furrowed a bit. How could they just drag her like that, couldn’t they see it hurt her? Sam had nothing to do with it, he didn’t even know the girl. But yet, his head was screaming at him that those guards were evil. She was even calling for help. Those men didn’t deserve to be here. He slowly started to walk over toward them, his face completely blank. “Hey…” he said. But they didn’t even spare him a look. His lips pressed together in a thin line, and he started walking after them. How could they drag her like that? Like an animal. It was not right. Not right. Not right…


“HEY!” Now the guard finally looked back at him. Sam pulled his arm back swiftly. Then. Sam sent a fist flying. Right into the jaw of the guard.

 

[Cross]

Mordred slid from the wall and watched the commotion. A smile of delight manifested on his lips and then melted away. The nurses corralling him had rushed off toward Poppy. Which left Mordred dubious as to whether the her threat of solitary confinement had been real or not. Their turquoise scrubs disappeared along with them down the hallway. Mordred's hair stuck up in wild directions and his eyes were dilated dark pools. Everything made him hysterically smug at the moment. He wondered what set Poppy off this time. Hopefully she wouldn't actually go through with it with him not around.


Mordred took a step but was too woozy to go any farther. He knelt on the floor and crossed his legs. The white sleeves of his issued t-shirt were unbearably clean. "I love you Poppy. You're amazing." Mordred shouted. And he grinned again. "Better luck next time." He peered down the hall when the sounds of a fight hit his ears opposed to Poppy's whining.


Good. It gave someone else for the staff to focus on other than him. Their books would certainly be full today. With a sudden flush of energy, Mordred stood up and skulked toward Poppy's room to watch the fight. He almost expected her to be the one throwing punches. But there was a new face among the riff-raff. Mordred grinned. "Well well. We have a new kid." Mordred said.

 

[Allina Auburn]

Poppy heard Modred's shout and shuddered that boy was the creepiest person ever known she kicked one if the guards before approaching the new boy "Why did you help me," she said while punching a small nurse and nursing a bruise.


She pulled the boys arm down a small corridor and disappeared into a small room she sat on a plastic chair and wiped her blood on a napkin her heart pounding faster and faster scared that the guards would follow her

 

[Hiddencard]

Sam had been entirely ready to continue his fight with more punches. Once having his mind set, he kind of went into a state of his own. But he was broken from his trance when the girl touched his arm. He looked over at her, and his eyes fell briefly on the small crowd that had stopped to watch, realization of the situation dawning very slowly. Among them a guy who had obviously taken notice of him was watching him. He looked at the girl. “Because they hurt you..” he answered, but then he was dragged along down the hall by the arm, and heard the guards yell angrily after them. Oh, what a perfect first day. He was making such a good first impression. He looked down at his knuckles and he sure had gotten a hit in, because it was not his blood.


He escaped with the girl into a small room by her lead, and quickly closed the door behind them. He stayed by the door for a moment, and listened for footsteps, wiping the blood from his knuckles in his hands. This asylum sure had more sneaky corners and hiding spots than he would have thought. When the footsteps had faded he let out a sigh of relief. Then looked over at her. “Honestly, what kind of place is this?” he said.

 

[Cross]

Mordred looked at Poppy and the boy escape. He lingered for a moment with the satisfying notion that he just found his new best friend. Mordred was sure they would met up again eventually. Too bad Poppy was so skittish, but it was just a matter of time. His gaze flickered to the man laid out on the floor. The other security guards ignored him and chased after the others. A nurse grabbed Mordred's arm and shook it to grab his attention. He hadn't realized he zoned out so far until that moment.


Nurse Jones peered a him. Her mouth was a harsh line. "What did you see Evens? Who hit officer Mitchell?" She sounded reluctant. Mordred knew the nurse didn't expect him to tell the truth under the most trivial of circumstances. Let alone this. The longer she looked at him, the more disturbed her expression became.


Mordred stared at her, the bags under his eyes looking more pronounced. He didn't say a word. "Have you been switching medications with the other patients again?" Nurse Jones demanded. She sounded more helpless than angry. "We're trying to help you, you know. You and Poppy and everyone else."


Mordred detached himself from the nurse. This was a speech she had given him a few times already. She let him go with a reluctant expression on her face. Mordred went to scour the place for the new boy or Poppy, or anyone really if that took long enough.

 

[Allina Auburn]

"It's a place for people like me, Distgusting evil me," She said spitefully. She started to run her fingers through her messy hair. "What's your deal, I'm Bipolar I get stupid highs where I turn into a totally carefree slut and then when I crash I become this," She said gesturing to herself. She heard the telltale footsteps of Modred "Modred I don't want you anywhere near me," She shouted her voice shaking