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 Posted: Sat Mar 14, 2015 6:00 pm
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2015 3:18 pm
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Doctor Dorian Lovel was in the staff lounge having his second cup of coffee for the day, as black and bitter as his mood. An apparently out of spite the coffee nearly burned it's way down his windpipe as one of the nurses burst in saying he was needed immediately.
He was up and running even as he coughed up the hot coffee haphazardly onto his white coat, clearing his lungs so he could spit the rest out and hurry to see what the supposed emergency was as the nurse spoke and panted as they went on through the halls. It was one of the basement cases. Stitching had been torn and vitals dropped dangerously low. There was nothing but stairs hurrying down splotchy gray halls and then passed several doors that stubbornly refused to open without the proper key-cards getting pressed against their little sweet-spots. Red lights flickered green with pleasant chirps quickly, but it all seemed far too slow to Dorian, who was demanding how the hell this had happened on Dr Johnson's watch. He could yell and rage down here in the basement all he wanted, it was well soundproofed. The white-halled area down the stars was the part of the facility built so no one could hear you yell. Or scream.
No, no. The gray halls on the main upper levels were a far more civil place down here. This was the basement, or the butcher shop as Dorian liked to think of it as he ran with his odd gait behind the nurse into the “angel's” room and shoved his hands into fresh plastic gloves as he joined the group trying to keep the … thing on the table alive. Today, the succeeded, but as Dorian peeled off bloody gloves about two hours later and finally took note of the ugly coffee stains on his lab coat and late hour considering he had a new arrival to observe and help settle in today he couldn't help but wonder whether or not survival could really be considered so happy an occasion.
Dr Lovel decided his thoughts and energy were better spent hurrying out of the blindingly white-halled basement back upstairs and to the front. It was better up here, sedated and peaceful. Most of the patients might even be called moderately content if likely very, very bored. And sleepy. Dorian smiled at one of the gray-clothed patients as he made his way, getting a blank-eyed blink in return. At least he didn't have to worry overly much about anyone but nurses giving him a second-glance for the coffee-stain now well settled into his white doctor's coat and even on the white shirt beneath. He would just have to take the time to change after meeting the new charge and getting him settled in.
“Sorry, sorry for being late,” Dorian spoke as he stepped out into the waiting room, smiling at the 'delivery man'. They had all sorts of 'delivery men and women' come in with petients. Some were even officially official in one way or another. Truth be told this was the place patients were taken when the patient:
(A) Had run out of insurance or government money to pay their looney bills. So they were basically 'checked out' and as good as now one of the lost/unknown homeless never to be seen again.
(B) Had no family to care they went missing, or family so distant or abusive it didn't matter.
(C) Were reasonably physically healthy.
“We had a bit of an eventful morning.” Dorian looked to the newcomer with a smile, curious and daring enough to offer his hand for a shake to the patient. “How do you do? I'm Doctor Dorian Lovel. You can call me Doc, Doctor, Dr Lovel, or whatever suits your fancy.” |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 2:38 pm
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Christian didn't want to move from his facility, he didn't want to go somewhere new, and he still never quite understood the need for restraints. He had long ago been classified as a "dangerous and unstable" criminal, which he wasn’t, but then again the label stuck mostly because of how he looked. He'd had a high profile case as a kid, when he supposedly went on a rampage and killed his whole family, no matter how many times he tried to tell the people that he had gone to bed and had been asleep the entire time. Doctors called it a psychotic break, Christian called it human ignorance, and he never understood why so many people wanted him put away in jail.
And if that wasn't bad enough it was the people who didn't want him put away that scared him the most, they had labeled him some sort of holy deity for a while, he had received letters saying that his family must have been evil. Christian had hated that because his family had been perfect, happy, protective but they had been amazing in his mind. At least he still had one member of his family, though people keep telling him Michael isn't there, Christian know that but he likes to pretend so he doesn’t suffer a real psychotic break.
Of course after so many years in different homes for the mentally insane Christian was sure he had gone a bit mad himself at this point. It wasn't easy being around crazy people so much, listening to the chatter, at first it's interesting but after a while it starts to wear on you. If the people were not there for being crazy then they were there for being depressed and all they could do was mope… or they weren't crazy at all and had just gotten a plea for insanity.
Christian rest his head against the cool glass of the car window, closing his eyes to try and block this all out, he really hated being in cars.
"You could have taken the sedatives." Christian sighed at Michaels reply and looked up at the man.
"Those are worse than the car ride." He could see the driver turn a little in confusion but Christian ignored him. No need to explain about who he was talking to.
"This place will be good for you Chris. Maybe they will finally realize you didn't do it." Christian chuckled and looked back out the window.
"They are just trying to make me go away Mikey… I am some dirty little secret and no one can stop them from making me disappear."
When they finally arrived at the facility Christian thought it looked a little… different than most. A lot of the times these places tried not to look like hospitals but this one did an abismal job of looking like anything other than that. Christian was tugged in by his arm, long white hair falling out of it's bun in thick strands, before he was being taken to where he would meet the new doctor in charge of his care. Christian awkwardly pushed some hair behind his ear before waiting around for this doctor.
When the man showed up Christian wasn't overly impressed, he looked like so many other doctors, though the hand shake was new and Christian carefully accepted it… while Michael gave him the thumbs up over the doctors shoulder.
"I am as well as can be expected. Considering I am currently in a loony bin and I don't feel the least bit insane." Christian chuckled and the man behind him handed over an envelope. He was here because yes the government wanted him to vanish… but not because he had killed anyone. It was the story that had been made up, Christian was made to believe, in reality he had been in an institute since he was twelve but an experimental institute where they tested genetic enhancements. He had looked like a normal kid, but his only living family had passes so he was taken. The institute was set up to resemble a home but when things went belly up then Christian was placed as a murderer and the others all were killed. Only one other boy in the facility was never found, Michael James, who had undergone all kinds of tests that either meant they would find him or he just disintegrated.
Not all of the genetics testing were listed for the doctor to see but the man infront of him didn't seem to care. "Have fun with this one. He'll be yours for a long time." The man then turned and unbound Christian who rubbed at his wrists. There was a thud of a book hitting the ground behind them and Christian turned to glare over the doctors should.
"Michael stop that." Christian ignored the laugh as he waited for the doctor to do what all doctors do… ask him why he was here even though they had the folder in their hands. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 7:27 pm
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Dorian smiled a small real smile as his handshake was accepted (hands bound or not), far more used to getting hostile non-blinked stares or nervous smiles in return than an actual handshake . Sometimes patients even wheeled away, scared to death of those in white coats for one reason or another ... those reasons, of course, never listed in their patient notes. But Dorian was used to that. And compared to a few other of the patients, Chris seemed generally well mentally speaking; he spoke in full sentences and even seemed to have a bit of good humor. The doctor was just grateful the normal-seeming new patient didn't seem put-off by the coffee still staining his front.
Taking the offered envelope Dr Lovel glanced at the information within just a moment before nodding to himself, having seen this same info on an e-mail sent to him earlier giving him the 'basics' on this killer ... well, what he was allowed to know, anyway. "Well everything's in order; the desk attendant will take you from here," Dorian said simply towards Christian's 'escort', only to turn at the sound of a book falling from one of the decorative bookshelves behind him and turning back to raise an eyebrow at the now-unbound Christian. Moving to slid the paperwork neatly back inside the envelope and tucking it safely under one arm, Dorian resumed his little smile and turned to lead the way in deeper to the facility without further ado.
"Michael, huh? He get mischievous often?" Surprisingly enough, the doctor just made small talk as he took the newest acquisition into the place proper. The walls gray splotches were like storm clouds, colors shifting darker and lighter in random but mostly even gradients. Dorian had been told the lack of one solid gray was supposed to give the patients something 'interesting' to look at without having to risk (or bother buying) actual framed paintings. Which really seemed just a load of bull to Dorian, but he wasn't here to complain and gripe; he was here to serve his time and do the best he could not to let the reality of this place bother him too much. He would do his quota and by the end of it he would get paid and get ...
The doctor had a slight limp as he walked. The earlier running around had jarred his--well. No use dwelling on it. He'd fix it later. And change his clothes later. The emergency had sucked up enough of his time as it was. It wasn't too hard to just focus on this new white-haired patient, smile still real enough if tired. "Did you have a nice ride? The first place we'll go is your room. You can straighten up your hair if you want, switch into your new clothes as well. Doctors wear white here, patients gray, while nurses and other staff wear black. Which isn't fair if you ask me," Dorian sighed with a hint of dramatic flair with a sad look down at the stains he currently had. "It makes any sort of football games in the grass lane a nightmare of grass stains. Though I suppose it's one workaround to actually getting to wear some sort of color in this place ... In case you haven't noticed, it's like a bad black-and-white film. But what can you do."
Dorian shrugged, eyes forward and leading Christian down a hall that branched off into different hallways with numbered doors, turning down one to stop in front of door number 213. The room inside was, of course, dreary gray with a bolted-down bedframe, desk, and wardrobe. There was no chair for the desk. The bathroom was small with only one toilet, sink, shatter-proof mirror and coffin-sized shower. And one barred window, with a view of the neighboring building's brick wall. "Here we are. After this we can check out the grass lane, entertainment area, or cafeteria if you want. I'm yours 'til dinner time, to answer questions and give you a small check-up when you're ready. We could even get that out of the way now," Dorian listed from the doorway, leaning against it not just out of casualness, but rubbing at one knee as he did so. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 7:51 pm
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Christian glanced at the doctor when he asked about Michael, not really wanting to mention his brother too much, before shrugging and deciding that was the best answer he could give this doctor. The other man seemed nice enough as they started walking, though the walls and everything seemed so bland, Christian already hated this place a great deal. They were not cattle, most patients probably drove themselves insane trying to find something normal in this place, Christian didn't like it but when he got to what was designated as his room he guessed he could mess with it a bit. If they wanted to try and stop him then they could do just that, try, but Christian had learned that after a while people liked to give up.
Christian went to the mirror in his room, pulling at the bun until it came loose, and let down a lot more hair than it seemed there was. All the way down his back to rest just above his thighs before he pulled it back together and quickly up.
"The car ride was… Long. Long and irritating. I don't mind the grey, I would just rather not wear white… Though it's all very counterproductive to have so many people in an area so grim. Psych institutes are supposed to help the mentally ill not drive them further from sanity." Christian shoved at Michaels hands as the man tried to fix his hair some more.
"Mikey I swear." The other male laughed.
"No you don't. Not ever. Well besides that one time~" Christian shoved the other male, ignoring the clattering noise he was sure was just in his head.
"I just had a check up, I really don't want another, but if it has to be done…" Christian sighed heavily and noticed his bags had been brought to the room so he quickly grabbed the smallest one and looked inside to see his painting set was still intact. A very kind old man, who he had met on several occasions, often sent him paints. He said he worked with Christians father and Mikey had met him a few times before so Christian didn't mind that he was giving him things.
"Do you have a place I can paint? I don't need much space but I know it can keep a lot of patients calm… As long as Mikey doesn’t start messing with things." Christian pouted before leaving his room with the painting set still in his hands. He didn't like setting it down because of how often things went missing in a place like this.
"I don't have many questions honestly. This is just another place… I'll either be stuck here till you get rid of me or until I die." He held back the thought of how he wished either would be soon. Maybe he would eventually have the courage to run away.
"I do have one though… Would you like to watch me paint? It's about the only thing I do. Before this whole mess I had wanted to be a famous artist… I guess I sort of got famous another way." |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 8:21 pm
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"Poor funding doesn't lead to the best of situations I'm afraid," Dorian answered about the bad quality of living, though it was far from true. This place had excellent money flow, it was just it wasn't focused on getting the patients well. The doctor, as always, didn't let himself dwell on it. He did, however, pull out a stethoscope and motioned for Christian to sit on the bed as he went through the basics. Breathing rate, lung clarity, heart-rate, blood pressure, knee reflex, small blood sample taken with a simple p***k. "I'm afraid it is necessary. We've had faulty information given to us before about patients, and policy here is to keep everything as accurate and up-to-date as possible."
The short-haired doctor did seemed pleased to hear about the painting though, and curious at all the little hints of what 'Mikey' was like from the noises in the bathroom to what clues he got from Chris himself. A type of hallucination then? Or even a subconscious way to blame someone else for his own actions or unexplainable phinomina, like a loose book slipping off of a book case? Perhaps a mixture of both?
Instead of saying yes, Christopher was indeed stuck here until he died, Dorian focused on the other's paint set as he finished the exam and thought a moment. "The entertainment area has a lot of space, tables and such. It might be as good a place as any to paint if you're willing to let other patients watch over your shoulder. And me." Dorian grinned. "Of course I'd like to see you paint, especially if it's something that matters so much to you." Dorian enjoyed getting to know what his patients were really like, or close to it, before the first round of pills got into their system at dinner time. Really new arrivals like this were one of the only things worth being even remotely happy about in his hell hole, though Dorian knew hardly any of the other staff felt that way. Most of them were here for high pay or chance to truly push the boundaries of medicine ... even if some rules had to be bent and cracked to do so.
Dorian hardly cared for the cash or results. He was here for far more selfish reasons than either option.
Seeing the white haired male was ready to head off, Dorain led the way. "Hm. Christopher, do you mind if I call you Chris? Or would you prefer anything else?" |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 9:03 pm
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Christian went through the routine begrudgingly, though he was glad it wasn't as in depth as some of the checkups, before he was ready to head out of the room. He stared at the doctor for a moment "Christian… and no I don't mind." He followed behind the doctor as they headed for the recreational area and honestly Christian didn't really care to pay much attention to the man, instead focusing on looking around and memorizing the path. He wasn't much of a talker, he didn't like to go on and on about subjects, plus usually he had Mikey for commentary anyways so that was always nice.
The recreational area was… bland as well. Christian didn't like it, but he decided to take the time to do what he needed. He had paper to work on, a small easel he could set up, lots of things in his little case so he gladly set up and started pulling out colors here and there to try and get everything ready. Mikey sat next to him, watching him intently, and Christian guessed he could start painting that first. He hadn't painted Michael in a long time after the last hospital where they thought he was joking around with them.
Christian smiled and drew guidelines first then started covering the small painting. Something this size would take him very long, not with the oil paints he had, so he painted Mikey as he was now. When Christian had first known Mikey the man was 18 years old, the only one in their family who wasn't related to them all, but Christian like him. He had sandy blond hair, shaggy and unevenly cut, with bright blue eyes. He started to change over time, his hair got darker and skin tone… stranger. Christian hadn't minded, or cared, he like Mikey no matter what he looked like but he guessed other people didn't once his bright hair turned black and his skin looked more an abnormal red than a natural color.
Now Mikey looked much the same but also very different. He had dark black facial hair that was short and stubbled around his face, sometimes Christian would find that stubble in the sink but he was sure he just imagined it. His eyes were still blue, blue as ever, but the whites were more grey. Christian didn't care, Mikey was family, he was embarrassed to admit how much of the mans body he knew though. After Christian had turned 18… with Mikey around things had gotten different. So right he painted one of his favorite pictures he had in his head of Mikey, from just before the move, Looking down at the male shirtless and grinning up at him.
Without the strange colors Mikey could almost be normal but well… Christian and him had never looked normal. He would never admit the image came from a rather intimate moment where Christian was letting Michael do things he shouldn’t, and doing things himself that he shouldn’t, because everyone always said it was in his head… You can't lose your virginity to a figmint of your imagination. They weren't in love like that… Christian was just the only onw who knew Mikey was there and Mikey was the only one who would help him scratch the itch. Of course painting someone like Mikey hadn't gone over well in the monastery… even less so the one and only time Christian and Mikey had gotten caught… Christian still wasn't sure how that nuns neck snapped but it never made it into any reports.
Christian felt Mikey's hand on his wrist and he looked at the man, who was grinning at the picture, Christian just chuckled. He wished he could find a way Mikey could be… normal. Not what ever this was that no one believed. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 9:47 pm
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Dorian just picked a spot near enough to see Christian and his work easily as the long-haired male set up shop one step at a time, the doctor taking the time to fiddle with his leg through his pants: seemingly massaging his kneecap around until whatever problem had caused his slight lip had finally been eased a bit. Once tat was sorted Dorian finally looked up as Christian began to paint, the sketch looking normal enough ... but as colors were added it was almost like Christian was simply putting overdone colors to a regular-looking man. Like a child coloring in a lion purple in a fill-in-the-lines book.
Odd color palliate or not, it was still pretty damned good in Dorian's opinion, way better than any simple sketches he'd doodled back in his high-school days in the margins of his notes. Though when Christian's attention seem to turn elsewhere from the painting, eye focusing on, well, nothing, the doctor got to his feet and walked closer, resting a hand on the other male's shoulder casually, his own eyes on the painting and tilting his head as if thinking. "Anyone in particular Chris? Or do you enjoy mashing realism with abstract?"
The doctor hoped his art-words still meant what they thought they did after years of not using them, and also hoped interrupting Christian's 'slip' supposedly into focusing onto something or someone that wasn't there wouldn't illicit a violent reaction. Dr Lovel hadn't just been trained in the art of medicine and was more than capable of holding his own even with two guys around his own size unarmed, but Dori did hope Christian was sane enough not to be unpredictable.
"It's great work. If you start to run low on paper or ... painty stuff just tell me and I'll bring some more in." It would have to be bought out of his own pocket but Dorian didn't care; if even after getting drugged up Chris still had the urge to draw things half as good and oddly colorful as this the doctor figured it would be worth it to see a patient managing to at least do something day-by-day instead of wander like a zombie or lost spirit around the halls. Though the angle of the drawing and way the figure was seen had Dorian chuckling to himself.
"Must be based off of someone you knew quite well, huh?" he said, with a knowing wink at Christopher before leaning down and whispering: "Best not get too graphic with your work or words. Nurse Bronx is a homophobe and he's also the one who gives out pills for the night shift. Get on his bad side and you'll be tripping harder than the Cat in the Hat on acid." The words were playful but with an underlying seriousness of a real warning from one guy to another. Straightening up the doctor looked around at other patients playing with board games, puzzles, or other little entertainments allowed to them.
"The day nurse at the pill station doesn't have nearly so big a stick up her a** about stuff like that and takes her job seriously. You won't get any nasty surprises from her." Dorian waited a moment, looking down at Christian to to see if the other reacted, just got back to his painting, or both ... or neither. |
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Posted: Tue Mar 17, 2015 10:20 pm
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Christian was rather startled by the other hand, Mikey quickly withdrawing his touch when the doctor got close enough to see the folds in the fabric, of course Christian didn't lash out because he wasn't really crazy. He wasn't seeing something that wasn't really there so his mind wasn't startled at all. Though as the other commented on the painting Christian frowned, just barely catching Mikey shaking his head and telling him not to say a word, before he just sighed and looked back to the picture. Of course when the other mentioned the fact that he shouldn’t get too graphic Christian just looked up at the man with a small bit of confusion.
"I wouldn’t ever get graphic in that way. Those things are to be kept in my head not said out loud. I can hardly say the word… p***s-" he cringed "Without feeling like I have comitted a crime. Think it sure but to get graphic about anything? Though I can… I tend to hide those things out of sight." Christian looked up at the doctor with a grin, because he was rather nice and sort of attractive. "If you don't be careful I might draw you into something." Christian carefully took the picture down much to the frowning of Mikey. He didn't like the way Christian was talking to the doctor, or the mention of the pills, Christian never took any of the pills he was given anyway and it always worried Michael to see him take anything after what happened last year…
The one time the kid takes anything and he ends up trapped in his bathroom for a day and a half bleeding out from some sort of hemorrhage or something. Christian started packing everything away "If you think my paintings or nice I can always show you my sketches. Colors are great to work with but simple lines do a lot better." Christian dug around in his bag for a moment before handing over the sketch book that was mostly in pencil with a few bits in different shades of pen. There were a few pictures of Christian himself, where he looked rather young and his eyes were a darker color, along with the same man in the painting but without the dark hair.
There were random people, birds, things of great detail. Everything seemed mostly normal at first. The then newer and newer the pictures got the more disturbing they were. Knives cutting into flesh, beaten and bruised faces, mangled bodies and masked faces. There was a picture, from the time Mikey remembered, with a rather skinny form facing forward. A slightly rounded stomach could be seen in the picture but there was a dark red pen used to show blood. Tips of white hair were covered in it as it stained boxers and ran down thighs.
The next picture was of the same person assumedly sitting in a bathtub and staring down as blood ran like a river toward the drain. The words "should have died" were repeated at the bottom of the page over and over again. On the next page over was a rather disturbing picture of a fetus, rather well formed, with nearly translucent skin resting in a palm to show just how tiny it was. Christian looked up once he was done and plucked the sketch book back before any of the newest pictures could be seen. Those ones were already a year old… Though it felt like just yesterday. |
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Posted: Wed Mar 18, 2015 12:07 pm
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"Ah, good. Some artists can get a bit snippy between 'art' and 'the human body being art' and 'freedom of expression' ..." The doctor trailed off, grinning down at the other and chuckling at Christian's reluctance to even say the word p***s. What a funny kind of man, and not really in any crazy way he could see on the surface either. "Oh really? Draw me into something? Oh dear. Now why do I get the sneaking suspicion you could easily make me the laughing stock of this facility for years with a simple swipe of the brush?" Dorian was actually enjoying this quite a bit. Even with the better patients when they first came in it was more like a babysitting job than actually having any sort of enjoyable back-and-forth.
The doctor readily accepted the offered sketchbook, being very gentle as he held and and turned the pages one by one with care, feeling how old the paper was. This was a well-loved and oft-used thing that deserved a gentle touch, especially as the doctor saw the beautiful little sketches inside. He admired all the detailed and loose freedom to the realism ... until things deteriorated. Realism. All these things, Dorian knew down in his core, were stills taken of real life. Real subjects; just like how the first pictures had obviously been. But how could holding a fetus be real--? And then Christian was snatching the sketchbook back without violence, just simply tucking it away like everything else had been. Dorian let him, Smiling and looking around.
"You don't seem to be the type for board games. We've still got a little bit til dinner, so how about we take a walk around, and I'll show you the places you'll get shot up with tranq faster than a tiger strolling down the sidewalk?" Dorian got to his feet and now walked without a trace of the earlier limp, letting Christian hold onto his art stuff without further word on that subject. "See that door, there? Yellow frame? Supply room, no-go. And red framed doors are super no-goes. Sure you'd need a key card to get into either one, but this is to just make sure your curiosity doesn't get the better of you. And as far as I know we don't keep art supplies anywhere on-cite so there's no reason for you to get snoopy."
Dorian led Christian around a bit more so the other had a decent lay of the land beyond the basics, though the building only had one way in or out through the main entrance ... which was similarly key-carded and red-framed. Basement entrances were red-framed, and employee areas where patients weren't allowed to go were yellow.
"Mm. I used to work with tigers. Loads of big cats and small cats, actually. And a few hyenas for a bit. I wanted to get out of the doctor gig for a bit, and was on vacation from ... well. It's all work and no play now," Dorian said with a shrug, turning his feet towards the dining area. "Time for dinner anyway. I trust you'll be fine on your own? I've been here since bright and early, and I'll be back bright and early tomorrow," Dr Lovel said with a smile and offering his hand in a farewell shake for Chris. |
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