just a bit of fun, really.

[disturbeddesire]

Bright, whitish-blue eyes stared at all the different beds, taking in every detail of them, their posts, the walls, the flooring and even the ceiling. Nothing. No exits, other than the doors and the windows. But, that was an obvious way of escape, and she could easily be blocked off, or run down. Willow, better known as Feral, did not like institutes of any kind. Be it for geniuses, schooling, or mental patients. She hated them with every fiber of her being. But, mainly the ones like she was in now. For the Criminally Insane.

She was not insane. They just said she was, because they didn't know what to do with someone like her. Someone that had a terrible past and was confused. They didn't know how to treat a person like her. Even though they said this was what was best for 'Someone with her complications' Complications? As if, she was perfectly normal, in her mind anyways.

The disordered woman placed her barefeet on the hard, wood flooring and moved to look out the dirty window closest to her bed. Her bright, rainbow colored tresses were up in the french braid she liked to keep them in, all hairs pulled away from her beautiful features. If not for her mental state, she would have men crawling all over her, and just because she wasn't right int he head as they said, doesn't mean she doesn't like to take care of her looks. As a matter of fact, it was the one thing she worked at meticulously. High, brown brows, high cheekbones, beautiful almond shaped eyes, pouty lips and a beautiful skin tone: tan but not burnt, soft, but not pale. She was short, but skinny and curvy. She was in definition of beauty, yet, she was 'loony'. No one wanted that, right?

Feral sighed, a sudden burst of hot anger ran through her and with an almost snarl, she landed her fist into the glass of the window, the pieces cutting into her delicate hand, blood oozing from the cuts. The rainbow-haired vixen pulled her hand back, marveling at the sight of blood, her own blood. She slowly opened her hand, pain piercing through her, but she ignored it and turned her hand about, watching as the glass cut deeper and more blood gushed out of the cuts. She brought her other hand up, pulling a piece of the sharded glass from her hand and focused her odd eyes on the pointed end and all hell broke loose.

She screamed, throwing the shard away and began clawing at her hand, trying to get the sharp objects out of her hand, but she simply made it worse, tearing the skin and allowing more blood to come from her hand. Her breathing excellerated and she began to hyperventilate, backing away from the window and screamed again, trying her best to pick the pieces out but to no avail. She was too freaked to actually concentrate.

She absolutely was terrified of the things pricking her skin, digging into her veins and spilling her blood. Tears began to stream down her face as she moved about the Ward, attempting to remove the things all the while.

[jonah]

His name was Jonah Vangraffe; It said so on his medical chart, in the registry that his identification number brought up, it was a fine name. At least, he thought so. The day was one of a general malaise, an itching feeling crawling past his flesh, his eyes focused on little more than than the daily tribulations of the ward. Hollow-eyed nurses with their cute little Dixie cups with pills rattling at the bottom, a sip of water, a curt nod to their burly escorts, the soldiers who seemed far out of their element.

Lunch had been served on the harmless foam dishes as they always had. Almost translucent slices of industrialized turkey sopped up with gobs of reconstituted potatoes, a stale roll, fake butter and a single oatmeal cookie. Having to have his meal without silverware of any sort, the young man would pluck shreds of the meat from his tray, licking away at the gravy on his fingers, going about the process with as much dignity as possible. He was dangerous. He was something. Something tugged at his hand, an instinctual sort on inclination creeping into his breast.

Pushing away from the table, luckily having been allowed to join 'general population', he would dab at his mouth with a napkin, nodding curtly to a matronly nurse that bustled over to him. A guard patted at his paper gown, hands searching for anything that could be construed as contraband, the nurse shining a light into his open mouth, using a tongue depressor to have him lift his tongue. Clean of any foreign objects (of, say, a squandered plastic spoon), he would be excused from the dining area.

"Thank you." Jonah would say to them kindly, dipping past the grey-haired old battleaxe of a nurse, making his way (hopefully) to the recreation hall. It was then that he could sight of the bleeding young woman, a smile transfixing his lips momentarily. For all appearances, he seemed normal. Normal enough. An ordinary sort of figure that hardly cast much attention upon himself, meekly cast and relatively well kept. His hair had been neatly combed, his smile patient and easily set, eyes kept center and straight. Yet, the ugliness was within his mind. That evil inkwell that threatened to be toppled and spill out across the proverbial tabletop of life, he imagined it.

The wheeze as the breath left her lungs, the first spilling of her blood as a blade entered and exited her side in a rapid staccato, it nearly made his heart quicken with appreciation. All of the good things in life, wasn't it appropriate that he was in a place that he could share his feelings? The guards, the doctors and nurses, they had never troubled him since he had arrived. A few minor prods with a needle, requests to disrobe, medications and examinations. They could swear they were cracking a tough nut, although Jonah had learned to take it all in stride.

"Oh, my!" A strip of his paper gown was torn off, showing a patch of bared leg, the young man pressing forward and applying the paper as if it were a makeshift bandage. Of course, being thin as to not allow him to hang himself on a low-hanging object, it would soon become useless and without merit, shredding away with the pooling blood. He tapped a fingernail against his lips. "Miss, why don't you go to the nurse's station? An open wound is never a fair sight..." The smile twisted further up, as if he found the entire ordeal an every day sort of matter. Oh, the looners would always be getting themselves into physical harm's way, wouldn't they?

[disturbeddesire]

The rainbow-haired lady moved her focus to the man, his words were lost to her panicked mind, it told her to run and get the pointy objects out of her hand and far away from her being and surroundings. And the man did the stupidest thing possible! He covered them! She freaked even farther, pushing herself away from him and stepping away, holding her wrist and looking worriedly at her bleeding hand.

She reached her hand up again, pulling out a rather large piece of the glass and she held her scream in, her eyes found the odd man that stood just inches from her and she finally registered what he had said and nodded, her back itching to get rid of the pointed objects as she bit her tongue to hide the scream.

She went into motion, walking past him and her mind struck her strongly with a new dose of fear that she ran to the nurses station. The burly nurse turned and almost screamed herself. She instantly grabbed Willow's hand, picking the pieces out and throwing them in the trash. Slowly, the young woman began to slow her breathing, her mind settling slightly with the feeling of no pointed objects.

The nurse bandaged her hand and instantly began asking questions. All Willow was concerned about was the man that tried to help her, her turned her odd eyes to the area she had come from and looked for him, but the nurse slammed her hand on the table, getting the patient's attention. She whipped her rainbow head around and focused on the nurse, nodding slightly when she told her to never do it again. But, in truth, Feral couldn't promise that. Not with her mindset.

Once the woman was gone, she hopped off the table and walking back to where she last saw the man. She peeked around the corner and saw him, so she moved closer. " hello. "

[jonah]

His lust for retribution had not been sated; The urges tugged against the corners of his mind, daring his body to take action. To crush, ye, to maim and shred. Yearning for bones to crack under unrelenting brutality, to lick the very lifeblood from the pitiful husk that could be rent open and surveyed to his greater ambition.

Lost momentarily in the ebb and tide of his violent pornography, he had not realized that he was being approached. As the greeting left her lips, he straightened up against the wall he was leaning against, clearly surprised. He hadn't really noticed how darling she was before, had he? No. The rainbow-dyed hair gave the young woman an appearance of youthful abandon, and he felt a pang of jealousy wrought anger bloom in his chest. He had never been afforded a moment where he could be free to express himself however he may please. He had to have a job and go along with the rest of the world. Do this, Jonah. Do that, Jonah. Can I have the expense reports, Mister Vangraffe? The list of things went on, and he felt like he could be the girl. Sure, why not? He'd bust a hole in her pretty little skull and just crawl inside.

Yet, as these things flashed through his mind like a strange flash of lightning, he would raise one hand, opposite of the one that the stranger had injured. He would lock his grip with her own, giving a quick business-like pump, up and down, quick and sure of himself.

"Jonah Vangraffe, Sales Representative at the Greater Living Pharmaceutical Company, New York branch, Deacon of First Presbyterian of the Great Burroughs, and pleased to meet you." He would shift his eyes to her injured hand, almost sorry that he hadn't pried the glass out of it himself. He had spied a shard of it jutting from her flesh, and wouldn't it have been useful? It would! Oh well. "Would you care to take a walk with me?" As soon as he had posed the question, he began to stroll on down the hall, head held high.

[disturbeddesire]

Her bright eyes focused on the man, finding something a bit odd about him, but who was she kidding? Everyone here was odd. She wasn't though. She absolutely knew that. They just made her out to be. She smiled a bit, suddenly coming back to the then and now and finding the male, Jonah, half way down the hallway. Blinking, Feral jumped forward, racing after him.

As she neared his side, she began to wonder why she followed him. In all honesty, he freaked her out a bit, not that that was extremely hard to do. She came up to strike with him, her odd eyes watching him with interest. Normally someone that was a patient here would either ignore her, yell at her or try to harm her even farther. Sure, he had covered the glass, which she absolutely hated, but he had still made the effort to help.

" I'm Willow van Stone. But most people call me Feral. "

She said, her voice soft as she looked up at him, fixing a few loose strands of pink shaded hairs that fell from her french braid. He intrigued her, if only slightly. It wasn't a daunting task to gain her interest but it wasn't simple either. She was mostly concerned with her surroundings than the ones around her. So she normally didn't have time to notice others.

" What are you here for? "

She asked simply on uncontrollable impulse and it took a minute for her to realize how rude the question was and she lowered her head slightly, looking at her barefeet.

[jonah]

Such a ninny, nattering on about the reason he was there to begin with. Was it any of her business? It wasn't and she should have learned to mind herself. Stepping patiently through the corridor yet showing no sign to speak of that he was disturbed with her choice of conversation, deciding to visit the mess hall once again. It was time to enact the first step of his plan. Such work had been put into it; It wouldn't be put to waste. It all hinged on information, whether it was good or bad? It had originally come from a janitor, and they always had an ear and an eye out...

"Nurse Hemming." Jonah called out as he dusted off a bench for Feral to sit on, commandeering a table for just the two of them. The grey-haired veteran of many a hospital inclined her head up, giving a smile to Vangraffe. She had always been taken with the young man, his polite demeanor and staunchly pressed voice. Not to mention, he was one of the few patients in the place that hadn't given her any sort of trouble. Yet. He was always willing to take his medication, patient with any sort of trouble his peers would cause, and would often take the time to ask about her day. He had the strangest questions at time, sometimes inquiring about the outside world, yet at times it strayed to her life. The nurse hadn't really minded, as he never pried in the slightest. "Yes?" The nurse responded, and he just gave her a smile. "Thank you, for fixing Missus Stone's hand." Seeming surprised by the statement, Hemming asked; "Is she your friend?". To which Jonah replied in kind; "Oh, Nurse Hemming! One could only hope."

Done with the nurse, Jonah turned once more to Feral, yet he wasn't exactly taken with the nickname. He would turn to referring the girl to it if strategically pressed to, although it didn't seem to be in the cards for the moment. "Miss Stone, in response to your earlier question, I am here for being a very, very bad boy. I was caught up in a few things, although God knows I regret every moment." Yet, this wasn't about him. He needed to steer the conversation in his own direction, and he would work upon it. While speaking to Hemming, he had spied what was needed in the nurse's station. It wasn't exactly as he had planned it out to be in his head, although it could have been anyone. Jonah was one busy bee and had been gathering the proverbial pollen for many a week, getting onto the staff's good side and extracting valuable information as needed. Now it was time to blitz, to test the waters.

"You must be the girl the doctor's were talking about." Jonah suddenly said in a hushed voice, pitching it low and attempting to catch Willow off-guard. It was all a ploy, and he knew more about her than she truly knew. "Rainbow hair, yes. I want to warn you, Willow. They plan to use you as a guinea pig for experimental drugs. I know, I hear everything. They'll be sticking you with needles, keeping you mercilessly awake with stimulants, bound, without pain killers. You'll be run through with so many implements...please don't tell anyone I've said this." Attempting to goad her into fear. Into a screaming, violent fit if possible. It was what he needed.

[disturbeddesire]

Willow kept her eyes on everyone, but mainly Jonah. He was her current companion. And she liked to stick to her companions when needed, and she felt like this was one of those times. Plus, he has saved what bit of sanity she had left, if any. Feral moved her hand to be sure her hair wasn't too out of place, it bothered her when it was. Made her feel less than herself. Maybe that was why, all those years ago, she had used the chemicals in the lab of the institute she was born in to perminantly dye her hair this color. Or colors. She quite enjoyed it too. Expressing herself by means of haircolor. She smiled at the memory of the doctors coming in and finding the different chemicals around the seven year old child. Twas quite the sight for any sane person.

But, that was dead and gone and past. Now she wanted to concentrate on the present, on Jonah. He had led her to the mess hall and she smiled when he brushed the bench off for her. So gentlemanly. She politely took the seat and settled herself and looked up at the nurse Jonah had called to. The one that aided her. She smiled and nodded her thanks, rubbing her now sore hand slightly. Willow would never know why she took his advice and went to the nurses' station. She hated nurses and doctors and dentists and everyone in the medical field. They were terrible, twisted people! She squirmed slightly at his side as he continued to speak.

Twiddling with her clothing, she placed her white eyes on the man, letting his words drift into her ears and allow her mind to chew on them for a few moments. She was being talked about? By the doctors? Those foul curs! Her brows furrowed, ready to raise hell at the doctors. They had no right to talk about her behind her back! Well, they did, but not in her mind. That was just wrong and it hurt her greatly.

She turned her body more fully towards him and stopped mid-twist. Needles. Needles. Needles. Needles. That's all that ran through her head after the word left his mouth. They were going to use needles on her. Her breathing quickened, her eyes going wide. The deep, consuming shadow of fear spread it's spindly claws over her heart and mind, laughing its maniacal laughter in her mind. She could feel her heart hammering into her chest and the pressure in her chest wasn't bearable any longer.

" NO! "

She screamed, backing away from him, falling onto the floor and her hands instantly went to her arms, scratching away imaginary needles. Her mind was on overdrive, telling her skin that there were needles there and commanding her hands to pull and scratch them out. They weren't suppose to be there. They had to be kept away from her, and she would do anything to keep it that way.

[jonah]

It was everything he could have wished for and more. She was working the part, the information wheedling and ass-kissing had worked off all too well, and now the plan would have to lift off...with a tiny bit of improvisation. Rising from the bench, he backed off and let the Nurse Hemming and her gaggle of armed guards and burly orderlies do their thing.

The Nurse's Station was left unattended. Perfect. Slipping from the situation and meandering along the wall, working upon the blind-spots that he had figured the cameras would have (An untested theory, although it would be difficult to pin anything on him even if they did catch him on film), he would slip into the office and bless his luck. Unattended. Everyone was busy with Willow, and his window of opportunity was short. Three things. He required three things, in order to set his plan off. Grabbing a keyring from the desk, he would flip through each, all of them meticulously labeled with handwriting that he recognized as Hemming's own. The nurse was old, wasn't she? Leaving things unattended, she would believe the keys had simply been lost, a product of her own carelessness. The keys were clutched in one fist, and he would use the set to unlock a file cabinet, rifling around for Willow's file, having to quickly look past the assigned registry numbers and blessing his luck that they still used old archival systems. Reliable, sure, although it left chances such as this. Finding her file, he clutched the manila folder close, closing the cabinet and flitting over to the trash can. The longest shard of glass was grasped, barely enough to conceivably clutch and use as a weapon.

Making his way from out of the office, he kept an eye on the proceedings with the 'Feral' girl, backing toward a custodian's card. Tucking the items underneath a large bundle of toilet paper (the bathrooms would be the last stop for the man on duty, Jonah had kept track), he would level himself off. These items would be retrieved later, when the cart was once more left unattended. "Miss Stone! Do calm down." Playing the part of a concerned 'friend', oh it was so easy to just transition from one role to another. Making his way over to her, just as Hemming was unsheathing a needle from it's package and being handed a vial that contained a sedative, he would raise one hand. "Please, Mrs. Hemming, I think I can calm her down. Please." Waiting to see if Willow would calm down, Nurse Hemming fixed her with a stony look.

[disturbeddesire]

Needles filled her mind, filling ever spot available, driving her on overdrive. Sweat beaded on her entire frame, the guards and nurses filling her vision, but she paid them no head. Now that the word needle was in her mind, it would not go away. Her screams filled the air, the rough hands of the guards restraining her from moving, but not from shaking with raw fear. If she were in her right mind she could take the guards, a few of them at least.

She thrashed suddenly, one guard's hand slipped on her leg and she kicked out, giving one nurse a good, solid kick to the jaw. She could feel the needles in her skin again when she was restrained once again.

" No no no! Don't! Keep them away! "

She screamed at the nurses as they made their shushing noises, a few even trying to stroke her rainbow-hair, the guards dragged her to the bench, laying her down on the table and holding her at a better angle when the large nurse made for her needle.

Willow's eyes zeroed in on the needle and she felt tears streak her face as she shook her head rapidly, but by now, the one named Jonah had returned, attempting to calm her but there was no way she was calming down. Not with that needle or the thought of needles in her mind. She tried to shrink back, into the table, but she could barely move with all the guards on her. She screamed and thrashed more before she exhausted her body.