The air cuts through her thin sweatshirt like a knife, but she doesn't look back.
Jazz wraps her arms around her torso in hopes of keeping in what little warmth her body provides. It's only early November, but small flakes of snow have begun to float down from the clouded sky. Danny would've loved this, the girl murmured, smiling sadly as she caught flakes in her open palms. She remembered the rosy-cheeked child with the long black hair and short stubby legs who'd push her over into snow banks, until she taught him how to make snow angels. She trudges through the low banks, making small footprints in the slush. The asylum was split into three pieces, the smaller building, reserved for paperwork and the weekly family session sat closest to the tall iron gates that opened into the property. Back behind this smaller building was the main building, quite large, and home to the cafeteria and those patients on good-behavior (and somewhat sane, or safe to be around). And then, even farther back, just on the edge of the small pines that surrounded the area was a tall two level apartment-like structure. Though plain and vague from the outside, within the walls, the walls were barren and bleached, the tillers immaculately clean, and not a pointy object within a five mile radius, save a couple of emergency needles safely hidden away from prying eyes.
It was here, high up on the second level that Danny lay with his back against the wall. The wall that wasn't so bleached anymore. Danny smiled as he looked up at his masterpiece. Across the bleached surface, were squiggles upon squiggles of color; blue airships battling one another for control of the orange planet below, red flowers with purple stems, and of course a little green puppy dog. Danny marveled at the crayons in his hands. He hadn't seen the drawing instruments in forever, or to be more specific, since before he was declared insane. Here, they were contraband (really was there anything a patient wouldn't put in their mouth and/or use as a weapon?) and deemed to dangerous for patients.
But that didn't explain how they ended up on his bed. Just sitting on his pillow, as if they'd been there the whole time.
Do you like them?
Danny jumped at the sound. His head made a sickening crack when it collides with the wall, but he says nothing. He should've known.
The crayons roll in his palm, and he holds them above his head accusingly. 'Is this some kind of sick joke?' he wants to ask, but settles for glaring straight and ahead, and hoping that's where it's coming from.
Are you still angry Danny?
.
"That was a good session, Mister Masters."
The man with the hard red eyes, now weary from strain of the last half hour, smirked down at the stout woman before him. Around them other relatives and their patients bustle about, folding chairs and making light conversation (save the patients, the majority of which refuse to talk at all).
Mister Masters lifts the corners of his lips at the woman before him, though it's painful as he's been doing it for the majority of the day, "Why yes, I would say so. Full of entertainment at the least."
The woman's face contorts into a sort of grimace when she says, "Well yes, but that Fenton. Hm. The whole lot of then worries me. Especially with that spot of it today."
"Just a little stress my dear," remarks the man, taking her chubby fingers in his. He's tall and lean. His fingers are like bones in hers, but she doesn't remark and neither does he. A strong impulse rushes through her body, and for a moment, it feels as though she's working on autopilot. Her eyes go cloudy, and her shoulder's shrug forward, her grip is weak.
"Well, thank you again for the session."
"It was indeed my pleasure."
He watches as the woman wraps an arm around a sulky young patient and drags him out the door behind her. Vladimir shakes his head with a smirk, some we're too easy.
He pulls the long white coat tighter around his body, and heads for the door, dipping his head to the secretary as he passes. Only one more thing to do before he can retire tonight, and before the real entertainment begins.
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The crayon thing will make sense next chapter ;) I promise.
Oh, and thank you to my two reviewers, you make me feel awesome ;-;
