• This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Murder House

It was a week later, Timothy walked out of Dr Howards office and did his usual, he walked up the stairs and was preparing to go to the attic when an idea popped into his head. Foolish, yes, but Timothy couldn't help himself. He crept towards his old bedroom door, he couldn't get used to calling it Andrew's bedroom. Instead of just opening the door, Timothy knocks on it, though hopes it was quiet enough not to get the attention from Dr Howard downstairs. He'd be in major shit for acquainting himself with his therapists son.
 
Andrew had had music on in his room as he read. He was kind of surprised that someone was knocking on his door. He raised a brown and swung his legs over the edge of his bed and pulled the sleeves on his gray hoodie down a little to cover his hands. He walked over to his door and rested his hand on the knob first before he opened the door was a little surprised to see the male in front of him. "Um... Hi."
 
Timothy didn't bother with pleasantries, instead walked straight inside Andrew's room, pushing past him in the process. He walked over to the window and stood looking out of it, but then turned back to Andrew, leaning against the wall slightly. He had on his usual black skinny jeans, again the hole in the knee, but today he donned a green stripey sweater, with dark green and light green stripes. He looked at Andrew, then smirked slightly. "Timothy." He introduced.
 
Ashton stumbled back slightly as the other pushed past him. He was a little confused as he watched the other's actions. He ran a hand through his hair to move it out of his face. "Andrew." he said back, having no idea that Timothy already knew his name. He was a bit confused as if why he was in his room but he said nothing about it and simply sat on the floor. "Why did you say what you said to me in the bathroom last week?" he asked, really wondering.
 
Timothy began to walk around the room, examining some of Andrews objects and belongings, he picked some up, turning them between his fingers and peering closely at them. He turns and looks at Andrew. "Say what?" He asks, pretending not to remember. Timothy hardly ever forgot things that happened in this house, but he liked to play dumb. He turns again, putting down something that he had picked up, and walked over to Andrews CD collection. He already knew what was there, but began looking through it anyway.
 
Andrew furrowed eyebrows slightly and rolled his eyes. "You know what I'm talking about, don't play dumb." He watched him go though hims stuff, wondering why he seemed so comfortable going though it. He crossed his arms over his chest, "And why are you going through my stuff?" This guy was strange and unlike any person he had met before, which he sort of liked about him.
 
"I'm going through your stuff because your stuff is cool." He states, shrugging his shoulders, he stands up and stops looking through his CD collection. "I don't recognise, half of these..." He mumbles, then turns and looks at Andrew. "And I said it because I said it, I'm seeing your father you know. Gives me plenty enough reason to say what I want and look through your stuff without explanation. I'm seeing a shrink, means I'm crazy." He shrugs his shoulders. "Means I can do whatever."
 
Andrew bit his lip slightly as he listened to him talk. He stood up and went to sit on his bed, crossing his legs. "No, It doesn't mean you can do whatever you want, It means nothing." He chewed the inside of his lip gently. "It just gives you an excuse and the person who you tell the excuse to, can choose to let you do whatever you want or not." He mumbled a bit quietly. His hair hung in his face as he looked down, messing with his covers.
 
Timothy sat down on the floor of the room, in the middle of the rug, and shrugged his shoulders, looking over at Andrew. "Well I suppose that's true, but I think we both know that you'll probably let me do whatever I want." He laughs a little bit, then his grin fades into a warm smile. "Alright, alright. Sorry for messin' with your stuff." He smiles apologetically.


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_11/right.jpg.de01e3879a630097b8ac6d1f88689b91.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="33464" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_11/right.jpg.de01e3879a630097b8ac6d1f88689b91.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

(And so the random pictures every so often... It begins)​


 

Attachments

  • right.jpg
    right.jpg
    17.1 KB · Views: 4
Ashton rolled his eyes but smiled slightly. He got up and sat in front of the other 16 year old male. He crossed his legs in front of him. "How old are you?" He asked curiously, looking onto the other's eyes and studying him. He wondered his his father would be mad if he caught Timothy up here.
 
A grin spreads on his face as he feels like telling Andrew that he was in fact supposed to be 36 years of age. "I'm 16." He says, the grin fading into a smile as he looks at Andrew. He looks him in the eye, studying his face properly. Oh he'd be doomed if Dr Howard came upstairs right now, but he didn't care. Living on the edge, as you might say. If he were alive. "How old are you?" He echoes, raising one eyebrow.
 
Ashton smiles a little, innocently, "16... turned 3 months ago." he shrugged as he listened to the music in his room but still looked at Timothy. A few moments later he looked down and messed with the rug they were sitting on since his floors were wood. He then looked up once more into the other's eyes, " Why really do you see my dad?" he asked tilting his head with curiousity, "I mean you don't seem crazy."
 
Timothy leaned forwards slightly, his eyes not leaving Andrews as he narrowed them a tiny bit. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to." He says, then leans backwards again, so that he was resting on his elbows and looking up at the ceiling. He didn't know the song they were listening to, but he did like it. He was thankful that this kid had a decent music taste, considering the fact that Timothy often had to deal with pretentious teenagers who liked rappers or popstars that sang stupid shit, this was by far better by comparison.
 
Andrew smirked slightly watching the other male. He stood up and went to grab his I pod. "Do you want to listen to Morsi?" Andrew asked and sat down on the edge of his bed, looking at Timothy. "He's cool, and he's pissy, aanndd he hates everyone and everything." Andrew bit his lip smiling kindly. He moved his hair out of his face once more so he could see the other male better.
 
Timothy grinned at the mention of Morrisey, knowing who he was. He was alive at the time that The Smiths were large, he liked them. "You got any Kurt Cobain on that thing?" Timothy asks, a grin spreading on his face as he remembers his idol. He hadn't been able to hear anything by Nirvana for so long, and he hoped to God that he'd be able to hear something by him soon. He was kind of devastated that he had died the same year that he had, though found it coincidental that they only died a few days apart, Timothy dying first.
 
Andrew smiled and looked down at his Ipod right as his father walked in. "What are you two doing in here?" he sounded almost angry which made Andrew confused. "Just listening to music dad.." He tilted his head slightly. "You need to leave Timothy, I'm sorry. You shouldn't be in here and I think you know that, please." Dr. Howard said and pointed out the door. Andrew stared at his father, his mouth slightly open.
 
Timothy stood up and walked out of the room quickly, then stopped when he got to the stairs, turning and glaring at Dr Howard. "What's that thing you think I'm afraid of? Fear of rejection?" He says harshly, before turning round and running down the stairs, slamming his hands against the railings angrily. He runs down into the basement, anger coursing through him. All he'd wanted to do was talk to Andrew, it wasn't like he was hurting anyone. Not yet, at least.
 
His father watched him walk out of his son's room with a look of anger on his face. "Stay. Away from him." Dr. Howard hissed at Andrew. "Dad, nothing-" his father cut him off. "You heard me!" he yelled. Andrew shut up immediately. He let out an angry breath and watched his father close his door.
 
"You mind if I tape this?" Dr Howard says, putting a tape recorder down on the table. Timothy shakes his head as a no, and Dr Howard leans back in his chair. Timothy looks at his fingernails, "You taking your medications?"


Timothy nods his head, "yes." Dr Howard writes something down, but then looks at him again, "Any side effects?"


Timothy looks up at the ceiling. "I was taking them at night, but they kept me up."


Dr Howard nods his head, "and what did you do?"


Timothy crosses his legs underneath him, his long sleeved shirt over his fingers yet again. His jeans this time were a dark blue, no rips. "I started taking them in the morning." Dr Howard nods his head, "light sensitivity is pretty common."


Timothy looks at him, "maybe... Yeah, I think so."
 
Andrew was currently at school. It was lunch and he was in the lunch room smoking when he was attacked. A fight broke out as everyone around him started to yell, "Fight, Fight, Fight." He put his cigarette out on the boys hand, causing him to let go so Andrew could get up and run. He went straight home, skipping the rest of school.
 
"When I was in medical school, they brought in this CIA interrogator to help us better identify who was lying." Dr Howard says, raising his eyebrows slightly, "This guy was, like, six foot, 50, crew cut. He must have been one hell of an interrogator, because I'll tell you something. I'd be terrified to lie to him."


Timothy leaned forward in his seat, his eyebrows furrowed and his face slightly angry. "You think I'm lying to you?"


Dr Howard shrugs his shoulders. "Light sensitivity isn't a side effect of Lexapro, Timothy."


"So you lied to me?!" Tate was almost stood up, but leaned back in his seat.


"What is important-- that is if you're telling the truth about doing these things to your classmates. If you were actually a danger to society, the law says that I have to report you to the police." Dr Howard states, and Timothy glares at him.


"Did you call them?"


"Not yet. I've treated psychotics before, and people with the right combination of chemical imbalance and psychological damage that can't be reached." Dr Howard says.


"You think that's me? You think I can't get better?" Timothy looked slightly wide eyed.


"You? You kidding me? You're hopeless. Everybody can get better, Timothy. Everybody. I just think you're scared."
 
( This scene is pretty much what happened, i don't have the script right here so im going off memory )


Once he was back he ran in and threw his back pack everyday like he always did and headed straight upstairs. He had a small cut on his forehead that his mother caught before he could. "What happened to you?" She asked as he was about to go upstairs. "I.. fell." He knew his mom wouldn't take that as an answer. "Boy or Girl?" She asked, circling around the kitchen's island to get a first aid kit. He sighed and went and sat at the island. "Boys. 3 of them." He grumbled. "I hope they look worse than you do." That made a small smile spread in Andrew's face. "Do you have their names?" His mother asked, cleaning his cuts.


"No mom, im not snitching. Im not scared of them" he mumbled, looking away. "Oh right, because you're not afraid of anything." His mother smiled.
 
Timothy goes quiet for a minute, before looking at Dr Howard. "I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work."


"What?" Dr Howard asks, a grin spreading on his face as he laughs lightly. Timothy grinned a little, "Yeah, that's why I didn't take the meds."


"Timothy-" He began, but Tim cut him off.


"I was afraid my dick wouldn't work. Because I met someone."
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Back
Top