This is by no means an accurate rendition of therapy and rehab. It's a fictionalization to fit the plot. I apologize in advance if I don't quite nail the portrayals I am attempting; it's truly hard to when a) the people you're writing about practically are just in a small game and b) the thing I'm attempting to portray is different for everyone.
This was previously an AO3 only story. Until I get my life together from college and whatnot (and of 5th of February), I have not completed this story. I am hoping to finish it soon, but until then, I'm posting all the chapters here and Wattpad because I know not everyone has AO3.
Dear Whoever,
Rest assured that I'm not doing this by my own choice and you don't have to respond back if I'm too harsh to you. An insipid worker in this dreadful facility had told me to start writing letters to someone as a means of therapy. Just like the rest of his lot, they're all way too simple. Thinking I could be solved with some ridiculous letters. He had put me through a pen pal program, so I guess you're either very lonely or have too much time on your hands. I've been told to feel like I have some sort of tie to this world by making a letter with someone.
You know, stranger, my time could be used in better ways. I could be seeing the minds of criminals. I could be seeing blood pouring from a wound, the way that it pools around the body that it leaks from. I could be solving crime, just like I was before I was hastily placed in this rehab facility because of my father and all the other common minds. For your information, you're speaking to a former drug addict. I see no need to hide that from you because I'm sure you want someone better to talk to than that, so perhaps it will dissuade you from writing back. Do you know how ridiculous this is? I'm watched constantly and am forced to do nothing. They don't understand that the cocaine makes me nicer, makes me less abrasive. Better than what they see today.
Anyway, I bet this has been ever so enlightening to you. Talking to me. I don't care if you respond back or not, unless you also have a package of cocaine with it. I can already feel the need of cocaine leaving me, how amusing.
Write back to me or not. I don't care. Leaves less for me to do to 'fix' my problems.
Alfendi Layton
I will mention now that this will eventually turn to an 'actual story' as in the whole dialogue and directions and the like. This isn't necessarily something I would call a slow burn, though we shall see where it goes.
I apologize now if Alfendi and Lucy sound a bit OOC, but I swear that it's not meant to be that way. I just have difficulties in truly conveying them with a lack of context, you know? Like I mentioned above, they're characters with very little time on the game and I have to make up a lot of assumptions because I don't have enough material to work with. It's also different to write as though you are them versus writing as though you are analyzing them. The difference doesn't seem clear, but I promise it is stark.
This is the story, truthfully, that I've been afraid of. Getting inside the heads of Alfendi and Lucy seems so challenging in this way. I've roleplayed in the past with other characters, but never so much to this extent...it's...a challenging prospect, but ever so fun.
