Disclaimer : As always, South isn't mine.
Author's Note : What better way to start out a new story than with a sex scene? ;) South-related ofcourse. What can I say, I love that show. The characters are pretty fucked up individuals in this one. Each is committed into an isolated asylum, Haven House, for an experiment of sorts. OCD, multiple personality disorders, eating disorders/body image issues, depression/suicidal tendencies, severe aggression, and night terrors are among the psychological studies involved in the experiment, and what the characters will have.
But most importantly, the idea for this story came from the music of Julia Nunes. Oddly enough, the first thing I thought of was a nut house. I was going to make this a Glee story, but I'm pretty sure there's one out there somewhere. This will probably be the last SON story I write on this thing though. Who knows. Each chapter will be a track off her albums, and will have lyrics throughout them.
BEING COMMITTED for DUMMIES
Chapter One: First Impressions
I've gotten used to being introduced.
Hello? What's your name? How are you?
They see my smile, my laugh, and the hurt behind my eyes.
Loss is not so easily disguised.
Sex was something that had been put on the slow burner with the two of them. Spencer and Robin been friends since eighth grade, and were never really concerned about the subject of their non-platonic intimacy, or lack thereof. It'd always been just them, and that's all they needed, really. In their eyes, they were best friends; no one would come between them. So, no one did, at least for awhile there. Until they'd started to grow up and life got more complicated than that. The two of them could've been considered emo in rank among the social classes, outcasts, so, they were used to being the but of a few jokes and subject to many eye rolls. That was, until a few years later, when others had picked up on their closeness, instantly causing more whispers and murmurs in the hallways of their school. Spencer was even bullied on a weekly basis, much to Robin's dismay, but she made her swear to secrecty. Because Spencer's mother was very catholic, if she'd known her teenage daughter was a lesbian, she would've gotten sent to some de-gay camp in Connecticut. Away from Robin for god knows how long, and Spencer couldn't let that happen. Her mother could barely handle their friendship as it was, always commenting on Robin's delinquency corrupting her daughter. After months of denial and awkward confessions, the who teenagers finally grew a pair, deciding to give whatever their relationship was a shot. In the five months of their secret relationship, Spencer and Robin flirted, touched, and even exchanged innuendo throughout much of their time together. Their first and only time making love was spontaneous, something they'd stumbled upon one night while Spencer's parents were working late. Just minutes after Spencer had confided in Robin that she'd been cutting herself for weeks, something that she'd promised her girlfriend she'd never do again. It had been almost a year since last time, and she'd thought she was doing so well. Apparently not.
Robin rolled onto her side on Spencer's bed, silently placing her hand on the blonde's hip. Spencer had been lying on her back beside her, unable to stop the tears from falling. She felt so ashamed, helpless. Her best friend had been so quiet since her confession, the complete opposite of how Spencer thought she'd react inside her head. After a moment, hazel-green eyes met Spencer's, bloodshot from crying, and they were quiet a second longer than their normal quiet together. It was one of their signals. Perfectly naturally. It meant, it s okay, I love you. Without speaking, Robin reaches up, unbuttoning Spencer's jacket, slowly. The blonde's breath catches in her throat, chest arching at the feel of Robin's fingertips grazing her stomach. The jacket falls away, no longer needed.
"Show me." She'd tried to sound firm, but Robin's voice shakes a little. She's nervous, they both are.
The blonde watched shamefully as her best friend pulls her T-shirt up. Robin watches her watery blue eyes intently, slips her fingers under her T-shirt. Touches the warm skin at the sides of her slim waist, drawling her hands upward. Feels the scars. At that moment, a wave of insecurity hits the blonde, and she makes a swift move to cover herself.
"No, Spence, show me," Her best friend had whispered, lips trembling.
The words seemed to hold more meaning than an outsider looking in could fathom, an unspoken communication the two of them had formed over the course of their relationship. A dare. It meant, show me you, what you are when no one's looking. She would. Blue eyes close in defeat, and another tear slides like a knife down her burning cheek. She'd felt so bare, exposed. An alien feeling when it came to being with Robin. Part of her wanted to throw Robin's touch away, and run out of the room, but a bigger part loved her best friend more. Robin stretches her neck, leaving a gentle, soothing kiss against the blonde's lips before touching the skin of her hip lightly, faintly wondering if the older scars were still there. She tugs at the fabric of the T-shirt, pulling it over Spencer's shoulders, and discarding it to the floor. A cold breeze hit her from the front, swirling around her, and cooling the nervous sweat of her neck and freezing her. Spencer breathes a shaky breath underneath her best friend s glazed eyes, consciously crossing her arms over her bare breasts, feeling herself getting goosebumps. But Robin doesn't give in, gently lifting away her arms, stringing their fingers together on one hand. The other is tracing the self-inflicted injuries in question, running just below her right breast and into her side. She remarks them carefully, judging them to be at least a week old, and nods curtly in agreement. Spencer sits up, arms folding over herself again, and unable to take the best friend's scrutiny any longer. It was only twisting the knife.
Crying harder, she turns away. "I'm so sorry, Robby. I'm so fucking sorry."
It's pointless, given that she'd said those same words dozens of times before, and maybe they'd lost any meaning to either of them now. But then, maybe they haven't, because Robin slips into her. Slips her arms around her waist. Because Robin's kissing her neck and she's falling, turning her head to find her mouth on her lips. Because her back is against the sheets again, and the guilt and regret she's feeling had seemed to fade into the background. Something strange and primal in feeling overcomes the both of them then, something that scared and excited her at the same time. Minutes pass, and Spencer's ripping open Robin's blouse, pulling it from her tanned form without mercy, until there's only skin against skin. Giving into fire in her chest and the tears in her eyes, Spencer's tracing Robin's pale jaw with her fingertips, and kissing Robin harder, their tongues tasting each other madly and Spencer's pressing into her and Robin into her, bodies shivering.
"I love you, kid," Robin gasps between kisses, rolling them over on the bed until she was staring down into blue, chest heaving heavily. She swallows, holding herself up with one arm, and nods fervently, an unreadable glint in her eyes. "Imma' show you that—that you're beautiful. That no matter what you're scared of, I'm not leaving you, ever."
As if on cue, she felt Robin's hand, hot, small, on her thigh underneath the sheets that incased them. Spencer takes in a sharp breath, closed her eyes. Waited. It rose and curved smoothly, hot against her, pressing just right against the sensitive nerves between her legs. Fingers strain at cotton, and Spencer moans lowly, digging her fingers into the back of her best friend's neck. The brunette above her is silent, her dilated eyes focused solely on the reactions of the girl underneath her. Sweat forms on her forehead, fingers drawing quick, tight circles around the nerves that seem already to be stretched to the breaking point. Minutes pass, and it doesn't take long for her breathing to become short and shallow as the girl's hand moves faster, creating even more fantastic friction between them until Robin's leaning down, and kissing her hard, knowingly, because Spencer's crying out, tightening around her fingers seconds later, and her moan reverberating throughout the small bedroom. And Spencer's grateful for the bruised lips covering her own, because they muffle the explosion threatening to rip loose and echo throughout the entire neighborhood.
Those same fingers find hers, stringing together against the sheets, as they both caught their breath. Blue eyes flickered above her, into Robin's somewhat anxious, insecure expression, and breathless giggles leave her lips. Robin raises her eyebrows questioningly, and she knows exactly what's going through the brunette's head. God, she was so fucking cute.
"I love you too," she's rasping out, calming her best friend's nerves. "So damn much, Robby. That was amazing, I can't even..."
Just then Robin breathes out, unashamedly relieved. "Damn straight."
Spencer's giggling breathlessly, pulling the girl down by her neck, and connecting their lips. Approximately nine, amazingly peaceful minutes would pass by them, and after that nine minutes, her mother would be making her way up the stairs and swinging her bedroom door open. Thankfully, the low threat that follows only involves a two-minute escape, or, she'd pull her out by her hair herself. Much, much more tame than Spencer had been expecting. Forty seconds after that, she's watching her best friend, barely dressed, pulling her jeans up boyish hips frantically.
So, save me from waking up tonight.
I toss and turn, and it doesn't feel right.
Please, save me from waking up tonight.
"We'll be okay, kid, alright?" she said softly, cradling the slightly-freaked-out blonde's face in her hands. "Whatever happens now, it'll be fine. Even if she grounds you, forbids you to see me, I'll find you. Okay? I love you."
Spencer could only nod, barely registering the murmured 'I love you too' that leaves her lips as she watches Robin stumble out her window and onto the grass of her lawn about nine feet below. Her best friend waves, mouthing a few more words of assurance, before sprinting off down the street before her mother shot her down. The blonde turns away from the window, absolutely dreading what was coming to her in the coming minutes. But also, she'd found herself feeling something else; a sort of bitter twinge against her heart. Something a little like foreboding, and it scared Spencer to death. Because, whatever it was, it wouldn't let her go no matter how much she tried. Something was wrong.
Two hours into her newly sentenced grounding, Spencer's home phone rings.
She remembers the silence that follows, the slow, careful footsteps her mother made up the stairs and down the hall to her room. The look on her mother's face, a mixture between shock and bewilderment. Spencer stares up at her mother, partly still angry, although the way she was staring at her was starting to freak her out even more. When she questions her, the older Carlin woman opens her mouth, and then closes it.
"That was Robin's parents. They're at the hospital." Her mother, Paula, looks down to the floor, grasping for the words. Spencer's stomach turns, and she thinks she's going to be sick. Because she just knows what her mother's going to say. Still, it doesn't stop her from shaking her head in denial, or the tears welling in her eyes. "Robin, she—Spencer, she was hit by a drunk driver on her way home. I'm so sorry, Spencer. She didn't make it."
Her mother takes a step towards her, but Spencer's already on her knees, sobbing harder than she'd ever done in her entire life. Her whole body seemed to be a blender of emotions, from outrage to terror to bewilderment to guilt to sorrow and then back again to outrage. Spencer locks herself in her room for three days after that night. In that time, she doesn't eat, and barely even slept. Whoever she was didn't matter anymore, not without Robin next to her, which only fueled her downward spiral. She couldn't even bring herself to go to Robin's funeral, let alone to school where everyone would look at her with that pity that goes along with the death of a loved one. Spencer couldn't do it, any of it. It hurt so much, even just to think about her. Soon, her rage towards her mother, towards everything, would burn down to a smoldering self pity, then to numbness. All around her, the options seemed to be narrowing, as if she were hurtling down a huge black tunnel, the whole world squeezing in tight. In the month that passes, Spencer turns into herself, shutting out the world around her all together.
One night, just days before the summer began, and fifty-six minutes after her parents go to bed, Spencer sneaks down the stairs of her Ohio home for the first time in months. Takes a kitchen knife, and slits her wrists.
Empty blue eyes drift, down to the blood pooling at her feet. Before her vision goes, the last thing she sees is her best friend's smiling face inside her head.
Because my dreams are filled with pleasantries,
that makes me think you re here with me.
But I miss you, and that's something I can't hide.
Spencer Carlin leans against her father's car, giving the ominous building that was to be her home for the summer another bitter, blank stare. It was three stories tall, and much more intimidating than her therapist had set it out to be. Then again, Spencer didn't exactly read the pamphlets she'd given her last week, to which she had been forced to give her a particularly ugly go-away stare before shoving them in her bag. Once safely down the hall, she had quickly threw them in the trash. Now, she'd wish she would've at least looked at one. She bet there would've been a section call," Suicides: Dos and Don'ts for the Depressed."
The young teen groans, folding her arms over her chest, careful not to open up her wounds too much by the action. Mainly in part because she'd get bitched, not the pain part. That, she'd might've looked forward to. The bandages on her wrists itched, and the anti-depressants they've doped her up with were giving her a horrible headache. Nevertheless, these side-effects of her failed suicide attempt are what she was going to have to deal with for awhile, whether she liked it or not. Especially now that she's going to be monitored every hour on the hour like some kind of careless child.
"Spencer? You ready to head inside?"
Taking a breath, Spencer pushes back her newly brown hair just enough to meet her father's eyes. She doesn't respond, though, but she's sure he'd lost all hope on that since she'd woke up in that hospital bed just days ago. Reluctantly, Spencer takes her father's hand, and lets him lead her up the steps leading to the building's entrance. It resided on top of a deserted hill surrounded by trees a couple miles from town. The situation faintly reminded her of House on the Haunted Hill, a very fitting comparison to her life as of late. A complete and total fucking nightmare.
The master entrance of the building had been blessed with a medieval arched doorway and a double window on the north side overlooking the town. The scenery was very striking; something Spencer wouldn't mind drawing later on. If she was being forced to be here, why not do a little painting or something to distract her from wanting to hang herself from that damn archway. Her dad knocks three times, and their soon met by a very short, blonde young woman with glasses smiling up at them. Judging from her overhearing her dad and the said blonde's conversation on the phone a few days ago, Spencer guessed this was Julia, the group's therapist. Fucking great.
"Welcome to Haven House," Julia says, grinning broadly.
"You must be Arthur Carlin, and his daughter, Spencer. We've been waiting for you."
"Forgive the coldness, Matt's kind of iffy on germs," She says, laughing, much too quirky for Spencer's liking. Spencer's tugging her sweater closer, feeling the mentioned climate hitting her like a slap in the face compared to the heat outside. "Have to keep it at a constant 70 degrees, or, he'll start stomping around like a toddler."
Julia turns with a smile as she gave them a quick tour, sneakers clicking cheerfully and echoing back at her through the spacious entry way, into the dining room with a working fireplace, through the mess hall, and finally circling back to the main hall just in time to hear a girl scream. It was a terrible scream and paralyzed all three of them for a second, and then there was a crash of something heavy to the floor upstairs, and Julia was running for the stairs. Spencer and her father exchanged quick looks, before sprinting up the stairs behind her. On her way up the stairs, she glanced out of the tall, narrow windows spaced out up the wall, taking note of the huge backyard. Coming to the top of the stairs, they found Julia at the end of the hall ushering a young black girl toward us. Spencer raises an eyebrow, noting the tears in her eyes as she passed.
"I'm so sorry, but there's a situation with one of my patients," Julia apologizes, giving the sobbing girl over to an older man who takes her down the stairs and out of view. "He has an anger problem, and sometimes, he just explodes. That was his girlfriend, Chelsea, his only visitor since he's been here-"
"Julia, get the hell in here!" Someone screamed, seconds before two wrestling bodies hurtled across the hall from one room, into another. "God damnit, Clay, stop! He's not calming down, I can't hold him!"
"Crap! Hold on, for a sec?" Julia pleads, red-faced and apologetic with determination. Before Spencer's father can even respond, the two bodies are stumbling back into the hallway, slamming into the wall a few times, and crashing onto the floor. "Danny, get me his meds!"
The small blonde dropped to her knees beside the growling teenager once they'd pinned him down, hands shaking as she prepared a syringe, and quickly stabbing the needle into the bulging dark brown skin of his arm. She stood helplessly, alternating between the scene in front of her and the strangers peeking out from behind the other rooms on the floor. Although her father's grip around her hand tightened and backed them away, his daughter couldn't help her curiosity. Spencer watches with wide eyes as the boy's struggling slowed dramatically, his chest rising and falling with uneven rapidity and labor. Seconds pass, and everything seemed to be quiet once again through Haven House.
"Night, night, Clay," Julia whispers, touching the sedated boy's cheek, before standing to her feet. "He should be out for a few hours. Danny, Aiden, take him to his room, okay?"
The other young man who'd been fighting with Clay nods obediently, throwing one of his limp arms over his shoulder while the older man, Danny, does the same with his other arm. They looked on silently as they carried the unconscious boy off, disappearing around the corner. Spencer's eyes drift, to a slender arm grasping a doorframe at the end of the hall, and the small feminine form half hiding behind it. The young brunette looked to be around her age, but the bags under her eyes made her look older than she was. She'd been crying during the whole thing, bloodshot eyes glued to the scene playing in front of her. It reminded her almost of a beaten puppy. A second later, those sad eyes are meeting Spencer's, digging into her heart like a knife. An odd sensation, compared to the numbness that'd accompanied her thoughts these days.
"I'm so sorry, that doesn't happen often, I assure you," Julia's reassuring her father, gently motioning them in the other direction. "Let's finish the tour, shall we? Then we can get Spencer settled into her room."
Spencer over her shoulder as Julia ushered them away towards the stairs, returning her attention towards the stranger behind the door. She's not surprised to find that she was still surveying the three of them, that same broken expression on her face. To Spencer surprise, someone else joins the girl at the door, a taller brunette with glasses with much paler skin, and just as, if not more, attractive. Curious, Spencer stays behind a second longer behind the others, noting the resemblance between the two, enough to deduce that they were sisters.
The taller teenager locks eyes with Spencer, her mocha, sun stained eyes regarding her with a particular polite reciprocal curiosity. Then, she's laying a hand on her sister's shoulder, gently pushing her into their room until she can't see her anymore. A second later, and after one lingering glance at Spencer, she too disappears behind the doorframe. Spencer frowns at the vacant space where the two beauties had stood, a little unnerved by the whole experience. She stands like this for several seconds until her father calls for her, and guides her back down stairs.
R&R.