Heeere it is. Gracias for the reviews and constructive criticism. Im sorry it's short u_u If you have tips on how to make it longer, please tell me. And I'm not spacing shit out, cuz that's cheating! :3
Okay, now read on.
Enjoy my loves!
John Hennigan. He was one of those patients that would be here until the end.
The end of a time. Of his time. Of some other sort of time. All that John knew was that he was alone, here, with nothing to do but listen to unreal sounds. To feel the pain of needles jabbed into his veins as an attempted cure. And to watch shadows that sane eyes didn't see.
John thought about that.
"Sane eyes," He scoffed to himself quietly, one of his hands shuffling a deck of cards with talent.
If the nurses' eyes were sane, and the patients' eyes were insane, what did that make John's eyes?
John could certainly pass off as a sane person. He looked pretty clean cut. His hair was long, dark, and silky. His body was toned, a bit petite, though slightly underweight. John's body was scarred but he did not look like most of the patients here. Their hair was grey and thin. They looked like animals.
Of course, John's looks deceived him. He was just as unstable, in pain, and far from okay.
John rolled his neck, his hands still shuffling the cards. He watched as they made a perfect bridge, except the joker, which had fallen out. John frowned and quickly snatched the joker and slid it back into the deck, as if paranoid that it would leave. He glanced around the room he was in. No one was looking at him. It was the common room. Most of the patients came here, to maybe socialize a bit. There were chess tables. There were books. Pretty generic items to normal people. But John no longer liked to read, for fear that he would get too sucked into the story, and that was scary for him. And he hated playing chess or checkers. John cracked under pressure.
So he usually sat alone, maybe occasionally playing cards with another patient. Because cards were the only thing he remembered before he cracked, and was sent here. To be quite honest, John would have preferred the needle as punishment. Why? Simple. He's been here too long. Much too long.
He had maybe two friends here. Mike and Shawn. Shawn was going to be released very soon, having made much progress. He was one of very few here that would get to live the rest of his life in happiness. Shawn had snapped a long time ago, and had lost his mind. Finally, he got it back, unlike most patients. He always told John that he would someday get released, and when he did, Shawn would be waiting to take him home. As for Mike... well he was much better than John, but he had a while to go.
But John knew he wouldn't get released. And when Shawn left, he'd never see him again. It saddened John. It'd be just him and Mike, that is, if Mike made it through. But Mike was usually optimistic. John was confident that Mike would get released in a couple years, to live his life. He assured Mike of that.
One could say that John had come a long way since he came here. But in reality, John's spirit had just been killed. John felt no progress. None at all.
John looked up and saw his counselor, Constantine, staring at him as he talked with a nurse.
"Go away." He muttered quietly, wishing the man could hear him.
John averted his eyes, feeling much smaller than he did before. But he looked back up when he heard the doors open, always attuned to the noises in this place. And there were certainly many sounds. Blackcliffe was on a small island next to Washington state. One way off and one way on, which was an old ferry that came only twice a month to deliver supplies and new patients. It was on a strict schedule, and the hospital made sure it came as little as possible. Couldn't have a patient escape, now could they? The hospital could certainly make one even more paranoid than before they came here.
John watched as the doors opened. His hands let go of the cards, making them sprawl all over the table. John sat up straight and watched as a beautiful creature walked through the doors. The man's body was confident but his ice blue eyes were sad. John cocked his head to the side as he watched him.
When Randy entered the room, he felt eyes on him. And when he looked around, he saw a set of intriguing green eyes on him. They looked at each other, each thinking the same thing:
Is he real?
Is he a hallucination?
Is he scared?
John scooped up his cards, his eyes leaving Randy's. The other man frowned when John looked away. But he said nothing. Randy didn't like speaking.
Constantine smiled at Randy. He was shorter than Randy, but taller than John, his teeth were bleached white, and his body looked like it had fed gluttonously, unlike his patients. He looked sleazy, despite his success rate with his patients. But only his patients knew his true intentions.
"Welcome to Blackcliffe, Randy. I'd give you the list of rules, but you'll figure them out fairly quickly," He said calmly, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smirk.
Randy didn't say anything, his arms wrapped around himself. He didn't like listening to Constantine. His voice sounded slick and greasy. His words cut into Randy's ears like scissors before they flowed out, as if they never existed. Constantine led Randy over to the table that John was sitting at. He smiled down at the smaller man.
"John, it's good to see you this morning," Constantine said, winking at him.
John looked down at the cards he was shuffling, not looking up at Constantine or Randy. "Likewise," He mumbled.
"This is Randy. He's a new patient, and since you need to socialize more, I figured you could tell him about this hospital. As well as how much progress you made here." Constantine said, his hand on the back of John's neck, squeezing a bit.
Randy looked at them. He wasn't one for socializing. And John could see it.
"Must I?" John asked. No one really talked to John, other than Mike and Shawn. He kept to himself usually, wondering when his release would come. He sat in his room, listing to the dripping of the water pipe, which drove him to the point of tears, and scratching the walls with his bloody finger tips. And when he wouldn't stop screaming, the guards came into his room and forced him to. But when he finally fell asleep, he was awoken early, for shock therapy. Or maybe a meeting with Constantine, where John closed up even more, sometimes refusing to talk to the man.
That's how John spent his time here. Alone, and not okay.
"Yes. You must. It could help you." He said, squeezing John's neck even more, making him wince.
"F-Fine." He hissed quietly and scooted away from Constantine, who winked at Randy before leaving.
Randy slowly sat down at the table, across from John. Randy realized how gorgeous John was. But he was afraid of that... attraction. He feared the immediate sexual attraction that a normal man had to someone beautiful. Because he was afraid that John wasn't real. And that he was simply hallucinating the man before him. But for now, he'd go along with it.
"Until you return to reality," A voice whispered.
John looked up, smiling slightly at Randy. "How'd you get here?" He asked quietly, the only sounds in the room were quiet murmurs, and the shuffling of the cards.
Randy didn't speak, and simply looked at John.
"Ah, I see. You're not a talker," He said, looking down at the table. "That'll change. Trust me." He whispered, his eyes looking up to pierce Randy's.
Randy frowned slightly, confused.
John suddenly chuckled softly. "Don't worry. At first, it only hurts a little." He said, flipping an Ace in his hand. "Don't let the sweet nurses and seemingly caring doctors deceive you. They'll make you talk. They'll make you scream. And I hope you don't end up like me." He whispered, slamming the deck of cards on the table, making Randy jump.
He watched John's hands shake before the long haired brunette put them in his lap. John shifted and fidgeted, his nails figging into the table until they almost bled. He swayed, his vision doubling for a second as shadows passing through his line of vision. Then, he calmed. As if it never happened.
"Sorry," John said softly, smiling slightly. "I get a little carried away," He chuckled, running a trembling hand through his hair.
Randy nodded a bit, understanding. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it, changing his mind. He wanted to ask John why he was in here, but he was afraid to set him off. He was also knew that this place housed the craziest of the crazy, and that John, though he seemed like some sort of angel, had done something dark. Randy didn't know if he wanted to find out.
Both men looked over when a patient flipped over a table, attacking another patient. The two men brawled, screaming nothings until two guards pulled them apart and out of the room. John looked back at Randy.
"Don't worry. Ward 2 is worse. That houses the girls. This is Ward 1, all men. And Ward 3..." John trailed off. "Just control yourself, and you won't end up there. Death is better than that place. This Ward is better than that place." He finished quietly.
Randy looked down at his lap, John's words sinking in. Death was a common concept in Randy's mind. A place worst than death would certainly break Randy, again.
John looked over his shoulder and saw the nurses walking towards him to take him back to his room. He looked back at Randy. "That's my advice to you. Control yourself. And please don't end up like me." He whispered, standing up. "You have everything they don't. Just please don't end up like me..." He pleaded quietly to Randy as the nurses lightly pulled John away.
Randy wanted to call after him, and ask him what he meant. He didn't know what he had that "they" didn't. He didn't know what John meant when he said to not end up like him. But he understood one thing. John said to control himself. What an impossible task. Randy too strong of a will to fight. How do you control something so unstable?
You didn't. When a fire gets out of control, you put it out with water. You kill it. You make sure it is no longer there. And suddenly, Randy understood why John said that. If he didn't control himself, they'd put him out with a river. The ones who were supposed to fix him would drown him, until there was nothing left. Until the voices choked on water. Until the fluids filled his lungs, and they let go of their last breaths. Until Randy could no longer fight, or feel.
Oooooh, shit's getting interesting finally. XD I hope I'm not moving too fast. There's no romantic connection between them so far. There's only the sexual attraction that Randy feels and fears. And John feels nothing sexual or romantic thus far. Just curiosity. But he will feel more eventually, don't worry. I was going to use a canon character for the place of Constantine, but no one fit the bill. I don't have a definite face yet, so just picture him fat, sleazy, controlling, and cold. Now review. My chapters come out better when I have more reviews! ^^
Any questions, comments, lovable affection, opinions or constructive criticism, leave them in a REVIIIEWWW!