A/N: A request by Lady Zahara that was supposed to be a oneshot. That did obviously not happen because once I began to write I simply could not stop. I am currently on the fifth chapter of this piece. Will be updated every week. Female!Crona.
As for the warning:
Child abuse, rape, sexual content, cursing, etc. The rating will be raised to M once I get to the more intense chapters in the future, but until then it remains T.
-Unknown
'O somewhere deep inside of these bones
An emptyness began to grow
There's something out there far from my home,
A longing that I've never known'
-Tim Burton's Nightmare before Christmas, Jack's Lament
Chapter 1: Screamer
From the mind of the patient in room 97
Every day I wake up here I have to reassure myself that I'm not dead. It always feels that way. My eyes will open and I see white, just white. Empty, silent, white nihility. Sometimes I wonder if I've died in my sleep and I've woken in some blank purgatory. But then I remember where I am and sometimes I actually wish that was the case.
I closed my eyes and then opened them again. Then I repeated this.
Black
White
Black
White
Black
White
My eyes finally begin to adjust and I can see the cracks and marks of the ceiling. My eyes slowly move around and make out the corners of the room. They are not very far from each other, my room is fairly small, but this doesn't usually bother me. After all I am one of the few that has his own room. They gave me it because I would get very serious panic attacks when my roommates wouldn't keep things in order. I would even become aggressive. Since then I've taught myself to tollerate the other patient's ignorance to things as important as order, but I remain in my own personal room. It's a bit smaller then the others but It's acceptable.
I force my body to sit up and then I swing my feed off the bed.
Click Click
I make the noise with my tongue before letting my feet touch the floor. The ground is cold compared to the temperature from under the sheets and it wakes me up a bit.
Click Click
I make it again with my tongue before finally standing up. Almost immediately I turn around and begin to make the bed. I pull all of the covers off and them place them back on and pull them to each of the corners. I find myself walking from one side of the bed to the other to make sure that the sheets are evenly made on both sides. Then I place my pillow directly in the center of the front of the bed.
It's too much to the right.
So I move it.
Nope, that just made it worse.
I move it again, but just slightly.
Perfect.
After the bed is properly made I walk over to my single sink and begin to wash my hands. I scrub thoroughly with soap, rinse, and repeat 5 times until I feel comfortable.
Then I try to arrange my hair the best I can. My mirror was removed from my room because I had many panic attacks from seeing my reflection. You see, I have 3 white stripes on the right side of my head and not the left. I don't know why my hair is colored that way, perhaps it's a genetic defect. Sometimes I believe it was a curse. I wonder if maybe in a past life I had done something horrible so I was cursed with these dreaded three lines. It's not the lines in general that truely bother me, it's that they're only on the left side. Someone of a high power simply must have gotten angry with me and painted three striped onto my head, just so I would panic whenever I saw my reflection.
This means I can never look at myself without becoming extremely scared or anxious.
It's interesting how one of the things I despise most is myself.
It's indeed a curse.
When I have finished washing my hands I hear a knock at my door.
I didn't answer, there was something I have to do first.
I walked over to the one window that I had above my bed and closed the blinds, making the room much darker, but not completely black. Then, I opened them and the room was lit up once more.
I repeated this.
Black
White
Black
White
Black-
-Another knock at the door. Now I have to start over.
Black
White
Black
White
Black
White
Black
White
Once I had finished there is a third knock.
I sigh in releif. At least I wasn't interrupted again. Now I can speak.
"Come in." I call.
The door creaks open slowly and one of the nurses walks in. Nurse Tsubaki to be exact.
"Good morning Kid." She greets me with a smile.
I like Nurse Tsubaki. She isn't demanding and she somewhat understands my desire for perfection. Or at least, she likes things to be clean. Sometimes I will help her set the tables for breakfast or clean the dishes with her. She is nice company and very polite. I like that.
However, she is not my usual nurse. She is asigned to a patient known as BlackStar. I have only talked to the boy a few times but from how he acts I can tell he shows signs of a manic disorder. The man thinks he's immortal and believes he can "transcend god."
I feel bad that a kind hearted and quiet soul like Nurse Tsubaki has to deal with the craziness of BlackStar. I asked her once if she ever wanted to get a new primary patient. She gave me a shocked look and said:
"No of course not! I need BlackStar just as much as he needs me."
I never understood that.
Sometimes I wish that Tsubaki was my primary nurse but I know that would never work out. She is lovely company when we're cleaning together or just chatting over lunch...but I don't think she can handle when I become very anxious. Level 10 anxious.
I was taught to rate my anxiety attacks from 1 to 10. Whenever I get a number 8, 9, 10, or even 7 Tsubaki get's very nervous and doesn't understand what to do to help me.
When my episodes get very bad I may result to scratching my neck and wrists until I bleed.
That's when Tsubaki has to call the doctor to sedate me so I won't do any serious damage to myself.
While me and Nurse Tsubaki are good acquaintances, we could never be partners.
"Hello Nurse Tsubaki." I say.
She is holding a tiny stack of folded clothes, my clothes. She must have washed them for me. I am very grateful for that and I tell her so.
I take the clothes from her and place them neatly on the side table by my bed. The attire we are given "here" is all white like the walls. We sleep in a pale hospital gowns and during the day we roam in the pastel T-shirts (that are always too big) and matching trousers.
It's almost like they are trying to get us to blend in with the walls. I hate that.
"Is it time for breakfast already?" I know that it wasn't but I felt the need to make small talk with her.
Breakfast began at 9:00 and it was still only 8:23. I knew that it was because I always woke at 8:00 and a Nurse would always knock on my door by 8:20. You see they begin to wake up the patients at 8 so by the time it is breakfast everyone is awake. The reason why they don't get to my room until 20 minutes later is because I am in one of the farthest rooms from the large double doors, where the nurses enter the building in the morning. My room is located on the far right wing.
I am in room 97 on the first floor.
"No, not yet." She said.
I was correct.
Click Click
"But if your stomach is empty I'm sure I could get you a glass of milk if you like." It was normal for her to make offers like this. Tsubaki always wants everyone to be comfortable.
"That's alright. But may I walk with you for a bit? Wake up the other patients?" The truth is I didn't want to be alone. I was still feeling a bit dead and I needed someone around me to assure myself I wasn't.
"Kid, you know I'm not supposed to allow you out of your room until breakfast."
"I know. Never mind then." Damn. I didn't want to be in here any longer. At least not alone. "Will you...stay here then?" I felt like I was begging by now.
Tsubaki gave me a sad smile. She couldn't stay, I knew that too. I just really didn't want to be here anymore.
...I don't know if by that I mean here in my room...or here here. Who knows. Maybe I've finally developed depression after being around these people. All I know is that for the past few months or so I've felt awfully numb. That's the best I can explain it. I don't feel sad or angry or empty or anything. I feel like I can't feel, and I think that might be one of the worst things you can ever feel. I didn't want to feel like this anymore.
"Nurse Tsubaki?"
A voice interrupted my thoughts. It was a Doctor the stood outside the door. I wasn't sure of his name. Dr. Stan? Dr. Sean? I couldn't remember.
"Dr. Sid? Is something wrong?"
Ah Sid. That's who he was.
The large man looked distressed. He nodded quickly and said, "We need your help with a new patient."
A new patient?
Nothing new ever happened here.
That is the last thought I have before it happens.
A mind numbing scream shatters the white silence of the asylum. It destroys everything that was previously calm and content in the ward.
The noise is like splattering black paint on a clean white canvas.
The scream almost doesn't sound human. It reminds me of nails on a chalkboard. It is the kind of scream that makes your blood boil, the kind of scream you can never forget no matter how hard your tried.
It is excruciating.
Before I know what's happening I drop to my knees with my hands cupped over my ears. My eyes are wide with terror and I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.
Everything hurts.
I can't help but finding myself screaming too.
"AAAAAAGGHHHH!"
"EEEAAAAAAAAHHH!"
Me and the stranger's screams are far different from each others, but somehow they seem to fit. It is like me and the stranger are engaging in some abnormal song of screams. Our symphony of howls and shrieks echo through the gargantuan asylum.
I don't know why...but I find our symphony of screams to be disturbingly beautiful in a way.
I regain control of my body once more and realize what's happening around me. I suddenly shut my mouth and notice that my screaming partner had ceased their shrieking once I had.
I lie curled up on the floor for a few more moments before I come completely back to reality. I take deep breaths to stop my heart from beating so fast and soon it calms down.
Nurse Tsubaki had disappeared. I am alone.
Slowly I push my body up from the cold floors and sat back.
Click Click
My eyes stay wide open, not really looking at anything, just trying to comprehend what had come over me. I don't remember every reacting this intensely to noise.
I hold both of my hands out and count the fingers, over and over again.
I count the index fingers first, then the ring fingers, middle, pinky, and finally thumb. I must count them in this order and I must bring the finger down to touch my palm each time. I've gotten so used to it that my fingers move very quickly so no one else can tell I'm counting them at all.
I do this whenever I am anxious to calm my nerves. I don't actually know if it works or not but I like to think that it does.
When I've relaxed enough I get up from the floor.
It's suddenly so quiet. Why is that?
I walk to my door, which is wide open, and peek outside.
There is a large party of doctors and nurses gathered around what I suspect was the screamer. They are muttering amongst themselves, sounding very confused. They are talking about the patient. I am able to make out a bit of what they are saying from my position.
"Full blown mental break."
"Non responsive to human contact."
"Confidential."
"Potentially dangerous."
It isn't until I hear them say "Solitary." that I feel my feet moving torward the crowd.
If there is anything worse then being "here", it was solitary confinement. No one deserves that. I had to help the screamer.
I don't know what I am planning to do once I make it to the group. It isn't like I could convince them to do anything. I am just a breeze in the wind to them, another nut in the nuthouse. But something inside of me isn't going to let me watch this person be dragged to a hell like solitary. I don't even know this person, but like I said: No one deserves solitary confinement.
I'm just about to tap one of the doctors on the shoulder when someone grabs me and pulls me away.
It's one of the Nurses. Nurse Maka to be exact.
"You don't want to bother them right now." She says.
I glare at her and pull my arm away from her grasp.
"What's happening?" I ask.
"We have a new patient." She mutters. She has a look of sadness in her eyes.
"I know that. Why were they screaming? What's wrong with them?"
"We don't know." She says. "Look just go back to your room. Everyone is staying in their room until we find a place for her."
Her. It was very rare that we get a female patient "here". What happened to this girl that sent her "here"?
Before I could say anything more Nurse Maka ushers me into my room and shuts the door.
I stare at the closed door and think about the screamer.
"Potentially dangerous."
Somehow I can't believe it. The only thing I know about this new patient is her scream. Her scream wasn't a battle cry or a outburst of rage. It was a scream of complete and utter terror. If she isn't responsive then she obviously doesn't mean to hurt anyone.
'Why are you defending her?'
Says a thought in the back of my mind.
Why am I defending her? Perhaps it is because I crave a new companion. Perhaps I've grown bored of the routine and want something to change.
'Perhaps you know how she feels.'
Yes, that may be it.
All I know is that I've become increasingly interested in the screaming patient and I have no idea why.
Click Click
'O there's an empty place in my bones
That calls out for something unknown'
