Bleeding Sanctuary
By: Holly Rose E.
Summary:
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Yes, you may kill me for making you wait. I'm sure I can conjureup some masochistic tendencies, while you find the sadist in you. *sigh* But...I love you all anyway. So gut me.
Disclaimer: fook you. I don't own. fook you. Never will. Fook you. Marvel and WB and yadayada. Fook you. ALL HAIL JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC!
*****
Chapter Three: Frozen
Grasping on the galaxy
Warmed here by the sun
Floating to infinity
Collapse and come undone
Perfectly dimension here
Immensity collapse
Blasted in but far behind
Won't be torn in half
What the hell's the point of this life?
~Collide
*****
He'd never truly had anything wrong with him. He'd led a normal life, with a happily married mother and father.
He was an only child, and he liked it that way.
A drifter in school, he couldn't truly be classified as anything, since he never caused any rifts or brought attention to himself. He'd done what he was told, and had always received good grades after working hard for them.
He was just your average person, with no need to be where he was now.
Strapped down to a table, his arms bound heavily in leather straps to restrain him.
Not that he'd want to; it was just 'precautionary' after hearing of how he had landed himself here.
He'd only meant to experiment; he'd seen it on television, the news, heard it from his peers at school. He just wanted to know what all the fuss was about, why everyone, once trying it, became so addicted. Like they were shooting up on heroin instead of just bleeding themselves.
It was medieval, true; it was what doctors had done to their patients to try and rid them of some life-staking disease that would plague them. He glowered at the ceiling.
The act of bleeding one's self was meant to drain away all the sickness in you, to try in haste to discharge whatever horrible thing was lodging itself inside. But, now...
Now in this sickeningly twisted, mad, mad world there only seemed to be sickness and plagues wherever anyone turned. There was no safe place, nowhere to run and nowhere where you could truly be protected from the evils of the outside world.
And with that thought, he'd wanted to see what would happen if he tried to drain himself when there was no disease in him. He had taken his old scissors--he'd also heard that they were the main use implement for cutting one's self, but only child's play... he'd once met a girl who'd used a butcher's knife--and dragged them across his forearm faintly.
Sure, it bled, but only for a moment.
He was also a mutant, so maybe that was what his 'disease' was. He had a keen healing factor, not only on himself but also on others.
Nekoda Challis's face itched.
On impulse, he tried to scratch it, but whimpered in disappointment when he found he could not. Looking up into the nurse's face, he saw that there would be no help there.
There was nothing worse in the world than having an itch he couldn't scratch.
***
He wasn't much used to solitary confinement, seeing as he was usually seen sucking up when he got the chance; he'd only started the habit of doing so since being thrown in here.
A girl was sitting across from him. He knew who she was. She was the girl who knew everything and saw everything that happened in the building. It was something to do with her mutation, but she said that it had nothing to do with it. She was normally quiet, and kept to herself, unless bugged about something. Then, she would sigh in false irritation and look condescendingly at whoever was pestering her.
This was one of those moments.
"Hey, how's Leila doing?"
"In her room as always, Cole, you know this." she said.
"She hasn't, you know." he cleared his throat for emphasis, shaking his wrist a little bit to further emphasize his point.
"No, but I saw her scratching a little bit."
"What about Trevor?"
"Infirmary. They caught him throwing his food up again."
"What about the new guy? What's his name-?"
"Nekoda? In the Hallway."
He shuddered. He himself had never been there, and didn't particularly want to.
The Hallway was the wing where they took you if they wanted to keep a close eye on you. Usually they just drugged you up and waited to see what would happen. When it was visitors' day or nearing it, then it was just a softer infirmary. No real reason for it to be there, but to keep the newbies from giving into their primal instincts of doing whatever landed them in here.
Nekoda was a newbie, and he should be thanking his lucky stars that tomorrow was visiting day for the inmates, or as the psychiatrics called them, patients.
But everyone knew, especially a ghoulish boy by the name of Devlin, that one room had a hidden passageway to an underground test area.
Actually, in all honesty, it wasn't precisely a test area. It was just a place for the sadistic sons of--Cole took a breath, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. He noticed that some of the shadows were twitching, and he didn't want _them_ to get mad too--for those that ran the place to have their little fun, to get their kicks by making the patients scream and cry and beg for mercy. For any kind of repentance that might be bestowed upon their damned souls.
"Donovan?"
This was customary for him, to quiz her on the whereabouts of the inner group. Sometimes they didn't always get along, but they pulled together when the worst came to the worst. You could have said they were 'in charge' really, because they more or less ran the show. They were the 'inner' and they knew everything, and had been there the longest.
Well, that would actually be Arianna who was one of the two in their group that had been the originals at the asylum.
"In his room, probably musing about god-knows-when when he was on the outs," she said, picking up her book once more.
"Arianna and Christine?"
"Arianna would be with Christine on basement duty."
"Again?"
"You know how Christine is."
"I wonder when she's finally going to realize that Arianna is straight and nothing's ever going to change that?" Cole laughed.
"At least Arianna's a good sport about it. It could be worse."
"She could be trying to fuck your brains out every two minutes."
She looked up startled, nearly fumbling with her book, turning a bright shade of vermilion.
"God, don't tell me you like her too? You've got to be the fifth girl whose got it bad for her?"
"I have got _nothing_ for anybody, Cole Turner, and you'll do your best to remember that," she huffed, storming away.
Cole merely rolled his eyes, and sat back, wanting nothing more than to be back on the outs cruising with his friends and just being a regular guy.
***
The thing with Arianna, besides the fact that she could be completely clueless sometimes, was that she could not, for the life of her, determine what was okay and what wasn't.
One could say that it was a virtuous quality, since she wasn't-- couldn't be--prejudiced in any way, shape, or form.
However, on the other hand, it also meant that she was likely to get whoever she was with into too much trouble for saying too much, or at the wrong time.
Heaven help them if it was both.
"Hey, Arianna, can I ask you a question?"
An arched eyebrow, a flitting of shadow-cast eyes.
"Must you say something every two goddamn minutes to get us into trouble?"
"Christine, I don't understand what the problem is. We're always on duty anyway, and I must remind you, it isn't my fault half the time."
"Are you saying it's mine?" Christine's voice rose to a high-pitch, a glower painting her pale face.
Arianna rose up, one hand on the shovel. "No, of course not, Chris. Tis only you and I who ever get placed to do this god-awful chore. So if it isn't my fault--which it certainly isn't--and you claim that it isn't yours, then it's probably just the screwed up asylum ways of the officials on high."
"I know somebody who's high. You really need to stop inhaling so much when we do this. One of these days, the fumes are going to go straight to your brain."
"You would know from experience, wouldn't you?"
"Bitch."
Arianna didn't even bother to comment on that. She and Chris both knew it was going to be the same old, routine thing she said every time Christine opened her mouth and cursed.
"Did you see the new group yesterday?"
"Nope."
"Me either," Arianna frowned, grunting as she attempted to roll away a heavy rock that was blocking any further digging into the ground.
"Since both Leah and Maire were fucking murdered, you think," Christine oofed as she went over to help Arianna, tripping over her own shovel and landing on her stomach, "that we should get two more for the group?"
"I don't care either way."
Christine helped out, pushing on the boulder with all her might, "I know you don't, I'm just trying to make some goddamn conversation here."
"You know, Christine, all the cursing-."
"I KNOW!" She cried, raising her arms and stomping away, muttering obscenities under her breath.
Arianna sucked in her cheeks; it was in her nature to push away people like that. To find some way to degrade them mentally, and keep at it. Though Christine was one of the few who hadn't attempted homicide on her, she had to be thankful for at least that much.
Then again, only she and Chris were the ones left to tell of the horrors that had been committed here the first few years.
And what a pity it was, really.
"I'm hungry."
"Look, another bunny. Stupid thing got lost down here and died," Arianna bent down to look at it closely. The stench invaded her senses, making her head whirl in a flurry.
"Fuckin' mammals, man. Dude, they're all morons."
"Yes," Arianna whispered, reaching for her shovel as she stood up.
"When I get outta here, I'm going to become the new Hitler of the millennium I tell you. Except, I'm only going to get rid of the stupid people, so it wouldn't really be like Hitler, you know? Because, unlike his inane murders, I know for a fuckin' _fact_ that those shits won't amount to anything."
"Of course, nobody ever does," Arianna swung the shovel over her shoulder, feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Morons, the whole lot of them. Know what we should do with them?"
"Kill," Arianna whispered almost to the point of mouthing it, as she swung the shovel down on to the deceased rabbit carcass, decaying mucus and moss spraying in all directions.
Christine sauntered up, placing a hand on Arianna's shoulder. "You've inspired me once more, friend."
"You've got a plan?"
Christine nodded, a malicious smile forming on her face.
Arianna got the point, and they both whispered, "Newbies," as they turned to look at the approaching person, whose footsteps pounded on the tile stairs, before becoming thuds on the wood, and making disgusting sucking noises once they reached the mud.
"Hello, ladies. I've got a different job for the two of you."
-End Chapter Three-
*****
LOOKIE! INTERACTION! Didya see, didya see?! *cackles*
OH! And, there are... Two (?) more characters to be brought in. One is dead, so... Hmm.
Alright then...
Nekoda Challis belongs to Nacla.
Cole Turner belongs to Min-kat.
Arianna Maat belongs to Kiyou Wiz.
Christine is mine. I promise on all that is holy--or nonholy, whichever you prefer--that she will NOT be a main focus. Swear.
Anyway... Almost five pages on this chapter. *sigh* I guess it's better than what I've been giving you...
THANK YOU'S TO:
MissNovelist, Min-Kat, TigerStorm, PasswordBackwards, XX-Goth-Gal, cheeky- bear007, Kiyou Wiz, Radical Ed85.
By: Holly Rose E.
Summary:
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: Yes, you may kill me for making you wait. I'm sure I can conjureup some masochistic tendencies, while you find the sadist in you. *sigh* But...I love you all anyway. So gut me.
Disclaimer: fook you. I don't own. fook you. Never will. Fook you. Marvel and WB and yadayada. Fook you. ALL HAIL JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC!
*****
Chapter Three: Frozen
Grasping on the galaxy
Warmed here by the sun
Floating to infinity
Collapse and come undone
Perfectly dimension here
Immensity collapse
Blasted in but far behind
Won't be torn in half
What the hell's the point of this life?
~Collide
*****
He'd never truly had anything wrong with him. He'd led a normal life, with a happily married mother and father.
He was an only child, and he liked it that way.
A drifter in school, he couldn't truly be classified as anything, since he never caused any rifts or brought attention to himself. He'd done what he was told, and had always received good grades after working hard for them.
He was just your average person, with no need to be where he was now.
Strapped down to a table, his arms bound heavily in leather straps to restrain him.
Not that he'd want to; it was just 'precautionary' after hearing of how he had landed himself here.
He'd only meant to experiment; he'd seen it on television, the news, heard it from his peers at school. He just wanted to know what all the fuss was about, why everyone, once trying it, became so addicted. Like they were shooting up on heroin instead of just bleeding themselves.
It was medieval, true; it was what doctors had done to their patients to try and rid them of some life-staking disease that would plague them. He glowered at the ceiling.
The act of bleeding one's self was meant to drain away all the sickness in you, to try in haste to discharge whatever horrible thing was lodging itself inside. But, now...
Now in this sickeningly twisted, mad, mad world there only seemed to be sickness and plagues wherever anyone turned. There was no safe place, nowhere to run and nowhere where you could truly be protected from the evils of the outside world.
And with that thought, he'd wanted to see what would happen if he tried to drain himself when there was no disease in him. He had taken his old scissors--he'd also heard that they were the main use implement for cutting one's self, but only child's play... he'd once met a girl who'd used a butcher's knife--and dragged them across his forearm faintly.
Sure, it bled, but only for a moment.
He was also a mutant, so maybe that was what his 'disease' was. He had a keen healing factor, not only on himself but also on others.
Nekoda Challis's face itched.
On impulse, he tried to scratch it, but whimpered in disappointment when he found he could not. Looking up into the nurse's face, he saw that there would be no help there.
There was nothing worse in the world than having an itch he couldn't scratch.
***
He wasn't much used to solitary confinement, seeing as he was usually seen sucking up when he got the chance; he'd only started the habit of doing so since being thrown in here.
A girl was sitting across from him. He knew who she was. She was the girl who knew everything and saw everything that happened in the building. It was something to do with her mutation, but she said that it had nothing to do with it. She was normally quiet, and kept to herself, unless bugged about something. Then, she would sigh in false irritation and look condescendingly at whoever was pestering her.
This was one of those moments.
"Hey, how's Leila doing?"
"In her room as always, Cole, you know this." she said.
"She hasn't, you know." he cleared his throat for emphasis, shaking his wrist a little bit to further emphasize his point.
"No, but I saw her scratching a little bit."
"What about Trevor?"
"Infirmary. They caught him throwing his food up again."
"What about the new guy? What's his name-?"
"Nekoda? In the Hallway."
He shuddered. He himself had never been there, and didn't particularly want to.
The Hallway was the wing where they took you if they wanted to keep a close eye on you. Usually they just drugged you up and waited to see what would happen. When it was visitors' day or nearing it, then it was just a softer infirmary. No real reason for it to be there, but to keep the newbies from giving into their primal instincts of doing whatever landed them in here.
Nekoda was a newbie, and he should be thanking his lucky stars that tomorrow was visiting day for the inmates, or as the psychiatrics called them, patients.
But everyone knew, especially a ghoulish boy by the name of Devlin, that one room had a hidden passageway to an underground test area.
Actually, in all honesty, it wasn't precisely a test area. It was just a place for the sadistic sons of--Cole took a breath, trying not to let his anger get the best of him. He noticed that some of the shadows were twitching, and he didn't want _them_ to get mad too--for those that ran the place to have their little fun, to get their kicks by making the patients scream and cry and beg for mercy. For any kind of repentance that might be bestowed upon their damned souls.
"Donovan?"
This was customary for him, to quiz her on the whereabouts of the inner group. Sometimes they didn't always get along, but they pulled together when the worst came to the worst. You could have said they were 'in charge' really, because they more or less ran the show. They were the 'inner' and they knew everything, and had been there the longest.
Well, that would actually be Arianna who was one of the two in their group that had been the originals at the asylum.
"In his room, probably musing about god-knows-when when he was on the outs," she said, picking up her book once more.
"Arianna and Christine?"
"Arianna would be with Christine on basement duty."
"Again?"
"You know how Christine is."
"I wonder when she's finally going to realize that Arianna is straight and nothing's ever going to change that?" Cole laughed.
"At least Arianna's a good sport about it. It could be worse."
"She could be trying to fuck your brains out every two minutes."
She looked up startled, nearly fumbling with her book, turning a bright shade of vermilion.
"God, don't tell me you like her too? You've got to be the fifth girl whose got it bad for her?"
"I have got _nothing_ for anybody, Cole Turner, and you'll do your best to remember that," she huffed, storming away.
Cole merely rolled his eyes, and sat back, wanting nothing more than to be back on the outs cruising with his friends and just being a regular guy.
***
The thing with Arianna, besides the fact that she could be completely clueless sometimes, was that she could not, for the life of her, determine what was okay and what wasn't.
One could say that it was a virtuous quality, since she wasn't-- couldn't be--prejudiced in any way, shape, or form.
However, on the other hand, it also meant that she was likely to get whoever she was with into too much trouble for saying too much, or at the wrong time.
Heaven help them if it was both.
"Hey, Arianna, can I ask you a question?"
An arched eyebrow, a flitting of shadow-cast eyes.
"Must you say something every two goddamn minutes to get us into trouble?"
"Christine, I don't understand what the problem is. We're always on duty anyway, and I must remind you, it isn't my fault half the time."
"Are you saying it's mine?" Christine's voice rose to a high-pitch, a glower painting her pale face.
Arianna rose up, one hand on the shovel. "No, of course not, Chris. Tis only you and I who ever get placed to do this god-awful chore. So if it isn't my fault--which it certainly isn't--and you claim that it isn't yours, then it's probably just the screwed up asylum ways of the officials on high."
"I know somebody who's high. You really need to stop inhaling so much when we do this. One of these days, the fumes are going to go straight to your brain."
"You would know from experience, wouldn't you?"
"Bitch."
Arianna didn't even bother to comment on that. She and Chris both knew it was going to be the same old, routine thing she said every time Christine opened her mouth and cursed.
"Did you see the new group yesterday?"
"Nope."
"Me either," Arianna frowned, grunting as she attempted to roll away a heavy rock that was blocking any further digging into the ground.
"Since both Leah and Maire were fucking murdered, you think," Christine oofed as she went over to help Arianna, tripping over her own shovel and landing on her stomach, "that we should get two more for the group?"
"I don't care either way."
Christine helped out, pushing on the boulder with all her might, "I know you don't, I'm just trying to make some goddamn conversation here."
"You know, Christine, all the cursing-."
"I KNOW!" She cried, raising her arms and stomping away, muttering obscenities under her breath.
Arianna sucked in her cheeks; it was in her nature to push away people like that. To find some way to degrade them mentally, and keep at it. Though Christine was one of the few who hadn't attempted homicide on her, she had to be thankful for at least that much.
Then again, only she and Chris were the ones left to tell of the horrors that had been committed here the first few years.
And what a pity it was, really.
"I'm hungry."
"Look, another bunny. Stupid thing got lost down here and died," Arianna bent down to look at it closely. The stench invaded her senses, making her head whirl in a flurry.
"Fuckin' mammals, man. Dude, they're all morons."
"Yes," Arianna whispered, reaching for her shovel as she stood up.
"When I get outta here, I'm going to become the new Hitler of the millennium I tell you. Except, I'm only going to get rid of the stupid people, so it wouldn't really be like Hitler, you know? Because, unlike his inane murders, I know for a fuckin' _fact_ that those shits won't amount to anything."
"Of course, nobody ever does," Arianna swung the shovel over her shoulder, feet planted firmly on the ground.
"Morons, the whole lot of them. Know what we should do with them?"
"Kill," Arianna whispered almost to the point of mouthing it, as she swung the shovel down on to the deceased rabbit carcass, decaying mucus and moss spraying in all directions.
Christine sauntered up, placing a hand on Arianna's shoulder. "You've inspired me once more, friend."
"You've got a plan?"
Christine nodded, a malicious smile forming on her face.
Arianna got the point, and they both whispered, "Newbies," as they turned to look at the approaching person, whose footsteps pounded on the tile stairs, before becoming thuds on the wood, and making disgusting sucking noises once they reached the mud.
"Hello, ladies. I've got a different job for the two of you."
-End Chapter Three-
*****
LOOKIE! INTERACTION! Didya see, didya see?! *cackles*
OH! And, there are... Two (?) more characters to be brought in. One is dead, so... Hmm.
Alright then...
Nekoda Challis belongs to Nacla.
Cole Turner belongs to Min-kat.
Arianna Maat belongs to Kiyou Wiz.
Christine is mine. I promise on all that is holy--or nonholy, whichever you prefer--that she will NOT be a main focus. Swear.
Anyway... Almost five pages on this chapter. *sigh* I guess it's better than what I've been giving you...
THANK YOU'S TO:
MissNovelist, Min-Kat, TigerStorm, PasswordBackwards, XX-Goth-Gal, cheeky- bear007, Kiyou Wiz, Radical Ed85.