Summer is finally here. My favorite time of the year! On another note, I have recently been axed from school and I am telling you, I am quite miffed with myself. I had my life planned out and it all goes down the drain because of a stupid thing called math. I still live in my parent's house, I don't have a job yet because of different reasons, and I have no car to drive. I apologize if I am ranting random nonsense but I have nowhere else to rant to. Above all else, I feel a bit like a failure in my own adult life.
In this story, each character faces their own sense of failure or tragedy because of different experiences they face. Ciel felt he had to be the perfect Phantomhive heir. He felt as if he had failed to copy his deceased father's image by starving himself too much. Clarice failed to stop a patient from destroying herself and an evil man for planting his dark influence. Will history be doomed to repeat itself? Time will tell. In the meantime, I think I shall go back in time and discover why the patients are in the position they are in now and there reason for being there.
Disclaimer: Kuroshitsuji does not belong to me. The contents of the manga and anime belong to creator Yana Toboso.
Chapter 14: How we got here
The Great London Rehabilitation Clinic was a place full of diverse and unique individuals from all walks of life. Although, that is not to say that was necessarily a good thing. Each patients had all been brought here because of their sad and unusual predicaments; drug addictions, cutting, anorexia, mental issues, and a whole array of issues. All too often, these sad individuals never fully recover or are stuck with said diagnosis for the rest of their lives. In spite of the best treatments available, it's not enough to cure the underlying reason.
()
Marcus Arborough: Drugs and Destitution (Age 16)
A lone figure stalked the late night streets of (1) White Chapel around 11 p.m. Every step he makes on those cobblestone roadways takes him closer to his destination. The light of the full moon shines on him revealing his features: shoulder length wavy brunette hair, blue eyes, fair skin, decked out in semi-tattered rags. He finally reaches a large brick building that had previously served as an old time factory. He touches the side of the building and feels for his objective; a loose red brick containing various contents; a pipe, a metal lighter, and a fine powdery substance. His body shudders from the lack of it in his system.
As he lights the substance in the pipe, he puts it to his lips and inhales. Oh, how he missed the delicious taste that left him feeling happily lethargic and problem free. At least, that is what he convinced himself. He had been doing this pretty much since he was at least 13, three years running. Every inhale he took made him think of what brought him to this state. It was that damn family's fault. Their fault his family lost everything. Their fault his father nearly took his own life; that his mother had to prostitute herself just to provide. Their fault, he was forced to resort to drugs for comfort. Sure enough, he would find a way to get them back down to the last child. A sigh of ecstasy passed his lips as he took one last inhale of the beautiful drug. Once done, he put all contents back in the slot and walked away. He muttered a bunch of curses underneath his breath at the unfairness of his situation and other inaudible curses at society. He had not taken ten steps before he began feeling lightheaded and collapsed onto the cobblestone pavement throwing up the contents in his stomach.
When he finally came to, he was lying on a soft bed and surrounded by white walls.
"Where am I?" he asked himself. He sat himself upward. The doors to his room opened to reveal a middle aged brunette man in a tweed suit. His features were serious yet friendly. He spoke to the confused youth. "Good morning Marcus, I hope you rested well. I am Dr. Nathaniel Zephyr, the one in charge of your case". Marcus froze. Con-di-tion? What did he mean? The doctor's face saddened as he explained.
"You are very lucky to be alive, I tell you. (2) However, your toxicology reports showed there was a highly addictive substance in your bloodstream. We couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was precisely but it was enough to cause extensive damage to your internal organs. At this rate, you will seriously damage not only just your liver but your other organs as well. Now due to patient/doctor privacy, I cannot notify anyone that isn't family of your condition. That is if you wish it so?" he asked the younger brunette. Marcus shook his head. The doctor continued. You show obvious signs of addiction, which can be dealt with positively. Here is what I suggest". The next statement words spoken would ultimately seal his fate.
"Aside from being your case manager, I am also the sole proprietor and dean of one of the best rehab clinics in the country. You will receive full treatment by our accomplished staff, clean bedding, plenty to eat, and everything necessary for your full recovery. It won't exactly be 5-star but it's the best I can recommend. Also, you will get periodic visits from your family if you desire. What do you say, son?" Marcus blue eyes calculated the man in front of him. Normally he could pinpoint on a individuals true nature by studying their movements. He was disappointed to find nothing. What Dr. Zephyr was offering was the greater difference between a dingy old cellar in the city jail and a nice clean building providing him with a chance to finally get his life together. That included getting his revenge on those rich S-O-B's. He stared at the man before giving him his answer.
After a few grueling hours of tearful goodbyes (courtesty of his mother), angry confrontation (by his father and police), and a grueling amount of paperwork, he rode his way to the place that would serve as a home for the next few years.
Fiona/ "Fifi": Dog Days are over (Age 9)
On a cold January day, cold winds rack the landscape drowning out the sounds of strange howling. If one were to look closer, they would come upon an abandoned dirt road and a grey bundle of cloth screaming. The misfortunate bundle was in fact a less than a month old baby girl thoughtlessly abandoned by her selfish mother. The wind continued rushing to and fro raining onto the helpless tyke. It seemed like hours and nothing in this world served to save the poor one from the clutches of death. Until that is…
A black horse sped swiftly upon the dirt road. The rider was a muscular built man with a gentlemen suit on. He was less than appealing, a balding head, grey sideburns on each side of his face, his face scrunched up unpleasantly and a riding crop in his fist. As his steed rounded a corner, the man suddenly found himself thrown forward several feet into the squishy mud. A cry of indignation left his large lips. Great his perfectly neat suit was all dirty. Next to him was his riding crop. As he got up to beat the stupid animal for the crime, a shrill cry met his ear. He snorted in frustration. He would deal with that animal later after he dealt with the annoying creature making that sound. He narrowed in on the source until he found it; a bundle of grey blankets. And something was moving inside it. He nudged the blanket with his foot irking another shrill cry from it. Finally having enough he picked it up like a pack of luggage causing the top of the blanket to move revealing a tuft of black…hair? The man removed more layers showing a small baby with a heart-shaped face, tufts of black hair upon her head, and a mouth with no teeth. The baby's crying dwindled to whimpers upon feeling the presence holding her. She opened her eyelids to reveal brown doe eyes.
The man scrunched his face into disgust. First he is covered in mud, now he finds some brat that no one cared to take her life. He was a man who hated many things, and children were at the top of the list. The only thing brats were good for were chores and doing labor that no one cared to do. He had plenty of the wretched urchins working in his home. His first instinct was to get up and walk away and leave the brat to its fate. Before he could even put the bundle down, he thought of an idea; an awful idea. He smirked at the now sleeping child in his arms. He could actually use this girl for his own purposes. (A/N: He knows it's a girl because he checked). (3) He tucked the baby under his arm and up onto his horse. He already had himself a horse. Why not a dog as well?
Several years later…
The doors to the mansion burst open as several police officers hauled a large burly man by his arms outside.
"Gah! Unhand me at once you imbeciles! You know who you are dealing with?!" He snarled struggling against the five men. A brunette man in a tweed suit stepped before him.
"Mr. Augustus Fursee, you are being placed under arrest for the crimes of which you stand accused", he informed the belligerent brute. Mr. Fursee as he was called spat out. "Crimes? What crimes? I have committed no crimes? Besides you have no real proof" he taunted. Just before the other could retort, they were brought out their musings by several barks and yelps. The burly brute paled as all eyes turned to a figure holding two buckets on each arm. The figure was a young girl aged about 10 or so, a tattered purple dress, long matted black hair, dirty pale skin, and brown doe eyes. Before the tweed suited man could greet her, the girl suddenly took on animalistic behavior; she dropped the buckets and got on all fours before sprinting at the men. A feral growl dribbled past her lips as she jumped up to bite at the man who was threatening her master/father. The girl didn't make it far before she was snatched up by the back of her shirt.
The brunette had to lean back to avoid being scratched up by her claws and teeth. His brown eyes spot a blue collar and metal tag around her neck. On it was the name "Fifi". He handed the young girl to one of the police men to return his attention back to the deplorable creature.
"No crimes, eh? Well, I don't know about you but I can tell she did not come from out of nowhere as she obviously came from your house and is obviously defensive of you, though I cannot fathom why" he spoke disdainfully. Mr. Fursee bit his lips. He knew there was no way out of this. With a defeated sigh he acquiesced to defeat and ceased his struggling. Needless to say, all the police officers were relieved. This man was a beast. They loaded the man in the back of the carriage; handcuffed and restrained at last.
The chief officer turned back to the little girl who was still restrained by another one of the officers. He approached the misfortunate girl and could tell she had been through by the amount of scars on the exposed parts of her body; courtesy of a blunt object. He knelt down in front of the girl to pat her head. The growl that passed her lips turned into whimpers. Whoever this strange person was, he was certainly different from her master. Much different. She looked up at the man with unsure fearful eyes. The officer smiled fondly at the little girl.
"Don't worry little one. You don't have to suffer because of that wretched monster anymore. Now let's see about finding you a new place because you definitely ain't living here no more" he assured her. The next day, she was taken to a hospital where she received a bath, various medical examinations by professional doctors, and ultimately sent to undergo speech therapy. As it was plain to see, she had little skills in speech on account. They later learned she had undergone a sort of indoctrination into a dog by Fursee, and was taught to only respond in growls and barks. The next building she was transferred to would serve as the basic for her rehabilitation into society. But then the question stirred, how can years of damage be undone? Time would tell.
Samuel: Closet Blowouts (Age 22)
Here he was again. Inside of his closet for fatally injuring a man in a roadside brawl. There were few witnesses around to know what actually happened. The few that did only said it was all a misunderstanding; another case of two people bumping into one another by accident and getting into an argument over who did what. Others say it was completely unprovoked and that he should be locked up like the animal he was. The tangerine haired teenager was huddled up in the darkness of the closet trying to block out the ever fearful darkness. The horrid, suffocating, darkness. Yet, it was the only remedy that his parents could think of to quell his explosive tempers. (4) No one knew what caused it but it ranged from a multitude of symptoms ranging from aggressive behavior, verbal outburst, and other violent behavior that automatically switched on at other times inappropriate situations.
The only available doctors who would actually tend to him, charged exuberant prices or did not do their diagnosis properly. It was fortunate his parents were able to evade any charges by police on the grounds that their son was mentally ill and was prone to outburst such as these. However, that excuse could only go so far. Now here Samuel sat, quivering inside his padded-cell room until he calmed down enough to be let out. Finally after what seemed like years, he was allowed to taste light again and bolted for it. He wrapped his arm around the pleated skirt of a middle-aged woman.
"Don't, he wept bitterly, ever put me in that awful place again". The woman looked sadly at her son. How she despised doing this to her only child. "I promise" is what she said each time. Sadly enough, the process would begin all over again. But what else could she do? No medication out there existed that could help with his tempers. Her husband suggested they kick him out as he was tired of having to continuously bail him out when his son got like this. It would end with his wife tearfully begging him not to throw out her only son. Then her husband would relent. She helped her son get into bed.
Oh, there were times she wished he would stay asleep. The only time she didn't have to fear for him. She wished so badly for a day when she wouldn't have to dread taking her son into the outside world and not fear him hurting himself or others. How she wished her husband wouldn't be so callous toward their son. Most of all to her utter shame, that she and her husband wouldn't have the shame of having a mentally unfit child. The next day, she sobbed deep into her husband's chest as she watched her only child struggle as he was placed inside a wooden grey carriage with bars situated on the windows. On each side of the buggy was the marked logo Great Britain Rehabilitation Clinic. Earlier, she had the unpleasant duty of explaining that he would be going away for a while and receives treatment for his ailment or else be placed in the nearest British prison. Her husband added the last part in himself. Of course, Samuel had a few choice words (or curses) to say for that matter.
Samuel looked through the bars and gave his parents one last devastated, betrayed, angry look before turning away in disgust. The buggy rolled away taking the boy to his destination. Three months later, he received a letter from both his parents telling him they would be making an annual visit to him. unfortunately, that visit never came. The carriage that had been transporting his parents had unexpectedly toppled off a steep hill leaving none alive.
La Dominica's
Sonya: Sleepless Nightmares (Age 14)
A line of two to three story buildings lined prostrate in a middle class neighborhood. It appeared to be your typical neighborhood, plain colors, symmetrical white picket fences surrounding a grass covered yard, and a lamppost in front. On the far end of the apartment complexes was a lovely Victorian-style house. Yet all was not as it seemed. For the recipients of this quaint little abode withheld some very dark secrets.
It is late at night. There is no moon or stars to blanket the night sky, leaving the world below bare and vulnerable to whatever vices the heavens pelted it with. That is what the girl huddled in bed feels like. She should be asleep but it does not come to her. Her blue eyes are wide open and slightly bloodshot, and have circles under them from the many sleepless nights she occasionally experienced. Once upon a time, sleep had come to her quite easily. Back when things were much simpler and happy. Back when she had parents and siblings who were always to there to chase away all the monsters in her life. Those days were sadly long gone. The pubescent girl knew that if she fell too deep into sleep, she would be vulnerable to the nightmare that accompanied her.
What nightmare? Nothing more than a pair of wandering hands, brandy soaked kisses, cigarette smoke permeating off her clothes, and if unlucky, the unwanted smell of foreign fluids covering her and the sheets. Who and what was the phantom that tormented her so day and night? Why, it was none other than her only remaining known relative; her merchant uncle. He was a part of the trades and goods department and had made quite a fortune. (5) To the outside world, he was good natured, friendly, and a devoted family man. But to his now 14-year old niece, it was a completely different account. For the most part, he was good to her and was a tad more loving than what is considered appropriate of the time. When he would get drunk, that's when it all went down. The same incident almost every other night since she was 11.
"No more" she vowed tucking the metal object in her hand. Too long had she endured the night perversions that left her fatigued through the day. All she needed to do was wait. Right on cue, the door to her bedroom opened. She prepared herself to appear as if she was fully asleep. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the pungent stench of whiskey fumigating the air. She could feel her heart beating loudly in her ears. Footsteps crept slowly toward the bed frame. It becomes unbearable to breathe while pretending to remain asleep.
"Sonya, her uncle's slurred voice calls out. "Sonya…you are so be-beautiful 'hic', so lovely, 'hic'. The urge to vomit is pushed down when she feels a calloused hand to rub up and down the side of her body. (A/N: She is sleeping on her side with her legs tucked against her) Alas, the hand reaching for the hem of her nightgown proves to be the final straw.
NO!
Her uncle gripped the side of his face in pain where his niece sliced him with the knife in her hand. His glare falters when he sees the ever unassuming posture of his hysterical niece; posture is hunched over, eyes are dilated into slits, her hair is a mess atop her head, her mouth was clenched tightly, and her skin all clammy and pale. The man begins to shiver as his niece…no this demon begins to march up to him. He jumps off the bed narrowly avoiding the knife aimed for his chest. The resulting string on his sliced face sobers him enough to know what is wrong. And what he should be afraid of.
"St-st-stay a-a-away from me, you MONSTER!" he sputters fearfully holding his arms up to defend himself.
"Monster?" She laughs cryptically, oh the wretched irony. How funny you can say such a thing…That you can deny which of us is the real monster, you pig!" she snarls lifting the dagger above her head. The man screamed and turned around to make a run for it and get help. To his horror and dismay, he trips over the shag carpet beneath the bed. He lands flat against the ground. Just as he shifts his body around to face her, his eyes widen in horror as blood and pain center on his chest.
DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!
She leaned over the man huffing and puffing. Her hair is hung over her face. After not moving for a while, she stands up dropping the bloody knife as she did so. She steps away from the prone body of her now deceased uncle. A numb expression passes over her face. It's finally over! She steps out of her former home. She looks upon the starless night with a grim smile upon her face. The long nightmare is over. She is finally free. When she steps out however, her whole world became dark.
Her court session is long and harrowing. The jury is at a standstill of whether her crime was of preempted homicide or self defense. The young blonde happily replies that she is sorry that she had not killed the pedophilic asshole much sooner. After much deliberation, it is configured that is was a sleep deprived psychosis on her part. She was later transported to the nearest mental institution to receive treatment for her prolonged sexual abuse by a relative. Also there, she would meet mutual friends, rivals, and perhaps a love interest. None can say her stay there would be a boring uneventful one.
Chelsea: Can you see what I see? (Age 15)
A young brunette woman sped down the streets with her head hung trying to evade the cold, judgmental stares directed at her. She was carrying a woven basket filled with several pieces of bread, and other items for her family's meals. She quickened her pace but the cruel words still found their way to her ears:
"Look if it isn't Ghost Girl? What she doing trotting around our perfect little town?" a couple of teens snickered. It took all the girls willpower not to tell them to buzz off. She knew from experience, it would only provoke them.
"Can you believe we have that nutcase parading around? As for me I wouldn't have the cheek to even show my face in public" another woman gossiped to her friends.
"Her parents must be so ashamed of her. I mean I would too if my child spouted out delusions day in and day out? She actually believes that she can see spirits", was the commotion from a group of people.
"The girl must be demon possessed if she claims she can spot spirits", one random churchgoer muttered snidely.
It was all too much for the young girl to bear. She bolted straightaway from the town square being careful not to spill her groceries. Finally she reached the hovel that housed her and her parents. The one place she felt safe and accepted by her parents. Didn't they? After all, they did raise and comfort and feed her for pretty much her whole life. But then, why did it all seem one-sided? Were they perhaps ashamed of her as well? It hurt her to think of her own flesh and blood despising her like everyone. Her ponytail whipped back and forth furiously as she shook away the dark misconceptions.
She opened the door letting the people inside know she was home. As she walked into the living room, she was met by her parents and a strange man in a white pea coat.
"Mother...Father,…what is going on? Who is this man" she sputtered out. Whatever was happening, she was sure she wasn't going to like it. Her parents and the mystery man turned to face her. Her parents had glum expressions on their faces while the man smiled at her.
"Chelsea', her mother began, 'I would like to introduce you to our guest, Dr. Nathaniel Zephyr" she gestured to the man on the other chair. The said person stood straight up and greeted her.
"It is an honor to meet you young lady. Your parents have been telling me a great deal about you including your troubles" he stretched uneasily. Chelsea narrowed her eyes but shook his hand regardless. He then reached for his seat and pulled up a clipboard.
"Now if I am to understand, that you began having strange visions starting from when you were 10 years old I presume? He asked dotting over the papers with a pen. Chelsea gritted her teeth. Just what was this git playing at? The man continued.
(6) "It also says here you had your first series of outburst at inopportune times between church, school, and any other times you would go to get things in your local village", he said jotting down some other notes with it. Chelsea glared daggers at the man and clenched his fist nearly drawing blood.
Dr. Zephyr looked sadly at her. This couldn't have been easy for her. "Eye witness reports also have seen you speaking in various tongues for no reason and scratch at your body as if a thousand spiders were nipping at your flesh" he informed her causing the younger to blush.
"Tha...that was one time. I had just gotten back from school and didn't get enough to eat at lunch… and…" she said no more and hung her head in shame. Nathaniel shook his head in understanding. "In that instance, you're parents and I have a solution that might help you with your…problem" he said deciding not to use schizophrenia.
Chelsea gulped. "And what help would that be, doctor?" she asked. The man turned from her to stare at her parents. If anyone could tell her, it should be them. "Mom…dad? She croaked. At this point tears were brimming on the edge of her lids.
Her mother was the first to stand up. She twiddled her fingers trying to find the words that would affect her only child's life. "Chelsea…your father and I were talking. We…we believe it is best if you went away for a while. Not permanently. Just long enough to get you treated and…
"Treated! Is that what this little meeting was about? You putting me in some damn psyche ward? Are you daft? I should have known. You two are ashamed of me! All this time I thought the love you-
"CHELSEA! THAT IS ENOUGH" Her father spoke finally. He stood several feet higher than his daughter. Everyone in the room jumped. His face was red. His teeth were clenched. He stared at his daughter causing her to flinch and step back.
"Listen here, daughter….too long have I prolonged the sense of denial that nothing was wrong with you. Day after day, I have to make excuses to my fellow workers and neighbors of why you do the things you do. I was lucky to have even gotten a good paying job as a result of your habits. But do listen well when I tell you….should you refuse the offer the good doctor is providing you…forget that you even have a home to go back to!"
SIR! DEAR! Don't do this papa!", were the simultaneous cries.
But it was too late as the man walked up the stairs and into one of the spare rooms and slammed the door. Dr. Zephyr shook his head appalled of how callously the man handled his only child's disability. Chelsea's mother sniffed pitifully fully ashamed of her husband's actions. Chelsea well you can guess what. With great reluctance she walked up to the doctor and uttered those four fateful words: Where do I sign?
Rita: Beauty is skin deep (Age 15)
A young woman aged 15 years of age dabbed her eyes with tissue. She sniffled and sobbed clutching the sides of the toilet. She put two fingers into her throat and gagged releasing all the contents from her stomach. Once finished, she wiped her mouth with a tissue and shakily stood up. She walked over to the mirror and was sickened by what she saw. To another person, they saw a young girl with a pale, gaunt face, slightly sunken eyes, hair all over her face, a thin bony body. Her reflection spoke differently (A/N: Sound familiar?). She saw a pudgy round face adorned with a double chin, blotchy complexion, and puffy over grown lips. Over all, it screamed "ugly" to her. She began to sob again. Why did she put herself through this torture? And all for some stupid boy. Why didn't she listen to her sisters?
A few months earlier…
A grand ball was being held at the local Country Club outside of (7) Dartmoor. An auction would also be taking place that night drawing all the different bluebloods and socialites from here to after. The carriage halted onto the textile road in front of the large building. One by one the coachman helped each and every member of the Marinette Family to step out of the ornamented buggy. The Marinettes accompanied their three daughters; Cordelia, Blanch, and Rita up the porcelain steps. The youngest sibling, Rita had on a purple sleeveless chiffon dress that billowed on the ground with matching heels and detachable dark purple gloves and sleek blond hair that had been styled and curled and tied up in a matching purple ribbon. Like her sister Cordelia she inherited her mother's platinum blonde hair while Blanch the middle child inherited her father's russet colored hair(A/N: I am not going to bother with describing the other sisters so just imagine them being in extravagant looking gowns).
Once they reached the inside, the family dissipated (excluding her parents who went to attend the auction) and participated in the events. However, Rita had a more pressing goal in mind. She took out her small compact to inspect her face for any imperfections needing to be fixed. She smiled at herself. Her complexion was covered in a light powder, her lips were tinted pink, and her eyes lined with kohl. (8) Of course, she made sure to avoid the lead-based make-up that seemed to be all the rage these days. As conceited as that sounds, she had that sort of natural beauty so many women only wished they could obtain. Enough of that, she needed to focus on the goal at hand. And the reason was him: Calvin Dulcett (dull-chet). He was all she obsessed over these days. She failed to understand why her sisters spoke ill of him or speak his name with disdain. Rita swooned picturing his looks: an angular chin, fair complexion, green eyes, dark wavy shoulder-length hair, and a black gentlemen suit. She opened her eyes just as the object of her affections passed her. It took her some time to find him again amongst the large crowd and expensive artifacts. As wealthy as her family was, they couldn't possibly pay enough to replace them.
She beamed wildly upon finding him near the balcony. She sped up toward him with enthusiasm but faltered when she saw he was with three other girls all about his age. Each of the girls had blonde, brunette, and red hair respectively. She clasped her hands with hope that once he was done talking with them, he would take notice of her. She listened to all those fillies prance and parade around him. Calvin looked bored. Rita felt reprieve at the thought that he showed no interest in them. Until her name came up.
"So Calvin dear, I noticed that Marinette girl was hanging on to your arm quite tightly. What was her name again? Rachel? Romilda? Rinata?"
"Its Rita!" she wanted to call out. But didn't. She wished no embarrassment on her part.
"You talking about Rita?" the red head asked. They turned their attention toward her. "Why yes, that is her name. Rita Marinette happens to be the youngest daughter of Darius and Nicolette Marinette. What about her?" the brunette scoffed. You bitch!
The red girl turned to her companions. "Well, as I mentioned. She seems to have a thing for our dear Calvin. I mean why not, a pretty girl like her could have any man she wanted. Her sisters too. But alas, she has eyes only for our Calvin", she stated airily. The other two nodded in agreement. Rita felt joy at hearing that statement. Seeing Calving nod increased her joy tenfold.
"You are right she is quite pretty, I admit. Although, her stomach and waist size could be smaller" sneered the blonde female. Rita gasped unconsciously clutching her stomach. The blonde female began again. I mean you could put a corset on that girl and she'd still look like a bloated cod compared to her siblings". Everyone laughed. Calvin too? Suddenly Calvin placed his hand around the blonde and brunette.
"Do not fret my lovelies. You never need fret. No way would I ever think to look twice at that pleated cow" he replied arrogantly. A round of obnoxious laughter followed. He then led the three girls away on each arm. Rita only stood there, devastated and numb.
Present time…
That moment onward was a tragic turning point for the young blond. She swore that from that day she would do whatever it takes to become thin and beautiful. Maybe then, she would win her love. She now tried every trick in the book: purging, minimizing portions, skipping meals, strenuous exercise (via dancing), and ultimately diet pills. It all worked for a while, the bulge hanging off her had vanished and she was now a size 26 waist size. Her previous weight had been 52 kilos (115lbs.) now gone down to 42 kilos (93 lbs.), less than normal for a girl her age. She left the bathroom composed and poised as she walked down. Then one day, the unthinkable happened. She was sitting in the living room with her sisters sewing; when she suddenly clutched her pained stomach and purged uncontrollably, combined with blood. The last thing Rita heard before passing out was the terrified screams of her family.
She awoke inside of a hospital with a clean frock to cover her pale, bony body. A series of test and diagnosis by doctors and nurses all but led to a grim conclusion. It was heartbreaking for the young blond to see her mother cry when the doctor gave her family the bad news. The continuous purging and deprivation of nutrients resulted in her diagnosed with Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia. There were three plausible solutions that could be used to deal with the problem; either force feed her, monitor her daily, or have her sent to the nearest clinic possible. Her parents were against the idea of forcing her into anything as they trusted things to run their course. So together the four reasoned to have her receive treatment for they could not bear to see their beloved relative suffer so.
A month into her treatment, she compiled a mental list of the things she liked and despised about the place. In the midst of her stay, she managed to establish friendships with girls who were much like her. She would also find people who she didn't like, doctors included. Yet, the events of that fateful night prevented her from making a full recovery. It also kept her from back in more ways than one.
Igraine: My Tourniquet (Age 15)
A dark alleyway in London could be used for a number of things. Some were used for evading cops, illegal activities, or a dumpsite filled with objects homeless people could use to build temporary shelters. For a young woman, it was the perfect spot to end it all.
Igraine slid down the brick wall as she cried. The make-shift shelter she was under prevented the elements from touching her. It also provided a great cover for what she was about to do. She reached into her satchel and smiled when she grasped what she was looking for; a pocket knife. Pulling down one of the sleeves of her dress, one could see the numerous scars and cuts that littered her formerly smooth skin. She turned to her other arm to see if there were any available places for her to mark her last message. She found it and placed the sharp end of the knife into it.
She sung a woeful melody (A/N: Imagine Evanescence's: My Tourniquet) before sliced for the last time. She thought back to her early childhood. Her brother, Orrin and she ran away from home at a young age to escape their alcoholic father and prostitute mother. With no other living relatives, they had no other options but to seek a living on the streets no matter the cost. While it was not ideal, at least they had one another to comfort each other through the cold, unforgiving nights. Orrin was her world, her anchor, her angel. Unfortunately, not even an angel could have stopped the tragedy that struck the two youngsters.
Two years ago…
One night, the two decided it was a perfect night to walk around the park and away from the shelter. While there, Orrin separated from his sister for just a moment. He would be getting them ice cream with the money he had pick-pocketed. While he did that, she would go near the lake and pick some flowers. In her distraction, she failed to see a hand come over her mouth. His hand muffled her screams. He then threw her onto the ground and attempted to have his way with her. She screamed loudly for her brother, fighting off her attacker at the same time. Just when she thought it was over, her attacker was thrown off of her. Relief combined with horror washed over her as she saw Orrin enact a barrage of fist and kicks onto her would-be rapist. Never did they see the knife that imbedded itself into her brother's chest. Orrin coughed out a bit of blood. Just then, he recovered enough to turn the weapon on the brute and end the sorry excuse of a human life. Unfortunately, the wound inflicted by the same weapon ended Orrin's life. Thus, leaving the young 13 year old to mourn her only brother.
She sobbed more as she continued slicing her skin with the very same knife that ended her brother's life. Blood seeped down her arm in trickles. Satisfaction clouded her mind. This was it, the euphoria of dying. She would get to see her brother again. Normally when she had done this ritual, she would bandage it soon after. But tonight, was not to be. Her olive skin began to turn pale as her life's blood left her body. "I'm coming Brother. We'll be together again soon", was the last thing she whispered.
When she had finally awakened, a red haired nurse had informed her she had been in a coma for about 4 months from the resulted blood loss. To Igraine's horror, the hospital also served as a psyche ward although the nurse had used "rehabilitation clinic". She stared down at both her arms and found both in clean bandages and her tattered grey dress replaced with a white frock. She hung her head in shame.
FUCK!
She hit the bed with her bandaged fist. This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to be saved. She was supposed to died and join her deceased brother. Whoever was responsible for this would pay. She finished screaming out her frustrations. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. The nurse was gripping a towel in her hands like a lifeline. Igraine stared at her lap in shame.
"Sorry" she uttered. The nurse nodded clarifying it was alright. She told Igraine she had other duties and would return with the dean to let him know she was awake and could begin her road to recovery. Right before the nurse touched the door, Rita called out to her.
"Wait before you go, what is your name? Mine is Igraine" she said.
The nurse smiled. "How lovely. By the way, my name is Clarice. And I hope you enjoy your stay here". Clarice disappeared behind the double sided door.
Andromeda *: Innocence thy name is Madness (Age 14)
(The * symbol states that it isn't her real name)
When the police found her, she was standing over the bodies of her foster guardians (via her aunt and uncle) with a bloodied baseball bat. Her eyes had a deranged, cloudy look and a crooked smile. It took some examining by both doctors and police to put two and two together. While they were cleaning her up, they noticed the multiple lacerations, scars, bruises, and various signs of heinous abuse. Upon further investigation, they learned the young girl had lost her parents and younger sisters when she was about 7. Afterwards, she was placed into the shoddy foster system where she would suffer various forms of abuse by her grandparents, then her aunt and uncle. To the dismay of the one interviewing her, the abuse resulted beyond a damaged psyche.
The day Nathaniel Zephyr met her; he realized there was more than what met the human eye. More than he wished to.
Nathaniel Zephyr interview with Andromeda*:
He walks into the cell that is holding the young female who had her legs tucked against her. Her red shoulder length hair is hung over her face. He smiles at the young girl. He then sits on the chair next to her. She flinches. Then he speaks to her.
"Hello Andromeda*, he speaks with a gentle voice, I am Dr. Nathaniel Zephyr. And I am here as a sort of case worker. See, the constables are at a standstill of where they should put you, a correctional facility for females or the first mental hospital they can find. I am making it my duty to make sure that does not happen and you go to a place where you can get certified help".
For a while the girl remains responsive before she finally responds. At times she is violent. Other times she switches from an array of different moods; seductive and charming, cheerful, timid, fearful, back to hostile, then normal. Few times, the doctor had to fight her off if only to prevent any damage to himself. Finally, diagnosis showed she suffered from (9) Dissociative Personality Disorder from the resulted abuse. In the process, he learned the names of her personalities:
Cora: the violent, war bound persona
Tessa: the seductress
Amber: The fearful, timid child
Rhonda: the brainy, analytical persona
Trina: the lesbian
Finally, Andromeda: her "normal" passive persona
A week later, Andromeda* was transferred to receive daily treatment and therapy. She would then form an unlikely friendship with a group of young females. She would also serve as a source of grief and mischief for the residents.
Susie: Silent to the bone (Age 16)
"You have a most beautiful daughter, Sir Heinrich" a woman complimented to the girl's father noticing the young girl's beauty. And a beauty she was; long raven hair with a long side braid, olive skin that could be mistaken for caramel and cat shaped brown eyes. The father beamed with pride as people continued complimenting his young daughter's beauty.
"Not too surprised. After all she is a spitting image of your late wife, Arina. God rest her soul" another person complimented. Heinrich smiled wider beneath his dark beard and stared into his daughter's face proudly. Susie smiled back. She separated from her father to go retrieve some more refreshments for their guest. Heinrich's smile faded as he watched his daughter go. He flinched when he caught wind of a recent conversation topic.
"That young Susie will make someone a happy husband someday. She is good natured, industrious, polite, though she never says a word when other speak to her. I guess she only speaks for her father, I'm afraid". Heinrich sighed. It was sadly very true.
See, to the outside world Susie was a perfectly normal girl. Unfortunately, she had one flaw that disabled her ability to communicate properly with everyone. She was completely mute to everyone but him. It was an issue that caused a lot of problems for them both in the past.
It started sometime after his wife's death. (10) All of a sudden, Susie would often freeze up when surrounded by peers her age or others. Strangely enough, she had little problem speaking clearly to him. He never reported the issue with doctors for fear they would want to commit her. So he resorted to an alternative method of communication, sign language. Weeks later while reading the daily paper; he spotted a section mentioning a specialist that dealt with people who were dealing with different disabilities.
It was a while to convince his only daughter to go and see the man. Heinrich's first impression of Nathaniel Zephyr was one of concern. Would this pinstripe clad man take his daughter's feelings into consideration? Or would he automatically pin his daughter as a basket case and dismiss her completely? In actuality, Zephyr was actually sympathetic, compassionate, and a very good listener. He too was a user of sign language and was able to get on with Susie (A/N: not in that way perverts). An ever greater joy was that Susie was actually taking a liking to this stranger, another man none the less. After the session, he and the doctor met in person to discuss Susie's disorder.
It was much to the older man's chagrin; the doctor recommended sending Susie to live at his clinic to help manage her speech impediment. In time she would be able to strike up a decent conversation with…anyone besides her father. It was great reassurance by the doctor that her stay would be a quick and temporary settlement. When the time came for her to leave, he gave her long words of encouragement and love. He also told her he would write to her often.
"Farewell my daughter, and know I shall always love you", were the final words he would speak to his daughter for a long time.
{}
Indeed, the people of the clinic had their tales to tell. For those who were willing to share their experiences, could only pray for a bit of constellation from it. Only ever did few find that one particular friend to share in that pain they faced and hope to not get taken advantage of in the end. A wishful thinking.
There you all have it. A back to back look on the people mentioned in this chapter. Everyone else will serve as a minor character/s. Some of you might have noticed a recurring pattern; a majority of the patients wake up in a hospital bed and learn they have been diagnosed and committed for various reasons. The person to come into the picture is none other than our favorite doctor, Nathaniel Zephyr. The drug Marcus is addicted to is not crystal meth, just to clear up any confusion, though it is just as deadly. If you can figure with Fifi, she was just an innocent girl brought up by an evil man to believe she was a dog. Samuel's anger problems are explainable enough. Sonya's constant sexual abuse by her only family member caused her to lash out…in a most violent way. Like most clairvoyants, they face all sorts of persecution and discrimination often by peers and often times family members. Like most parents, Chelsea's father is having difficulties accepting his daughter's ability out of fear of how it will affect his family's already shattered perception by the villagers. In previous chapters, Rita found herself a friend in Ciel for the fact she sees a bit of herself in him. Opposed to Ciel, she faced rejection from the man she loved or was about to profess to. When I write about Igraine, I think to Evanescence's song: My tourniquet. She herself wishes more than anything to end her pain and be free of it. Andromeda's character is reminiscent of the movie "Sybil", a story about girl who had multiple personality disorder from a result of abuse by her mentally deranged mother. The asterisk (*) depicts that she goes by a different name rather than her 'real' one. Unlike the other patients save for Rita, she appears to have a great relationship with her family or remaining relative. This was quite a long chapter if you exclude chapter notes or references. That is all I have to say for now.
Another note: if any of your names match the persona's mentioned, I deeply apologize for any offense given.
Chapter Footnotes:
(1) An area in Eastern London. Formerly a place where society's trash would gather. Also known as the site of the infamous Jack The Ripper murders.
(2) Series of test and study of chemicals on living substances. In this case, a basic blood and urine test to detect drugs in a person's system.
(3) A sad but not too uncommon case. Often times, some adults will adopt children for impure reasons via slave labor.
(4) Symptoms of Intermittent Explosive Disorder. No joke I looked this up.
(5) Don't they all at first?
(6) Signs of schizophrenia. Or is it an attack from the supernatural?
(7) A country province in England.
(8) Early 19th century make-up often contained various toxins including; zinc, iodine, mercury, and acids. Use of said cosmetics usually caused deformities or birth defects.
(9) Dissociative Personality Disorder: also known as multiple personality disorder, identified by the recurring shift in an individuals persona and behavior causing the person to develop memory impairments.
(10) Selective Mutism: a psychiatric disorder where a person who is normally capable of speech is unable to speak in given situations or specific people. Often mistaken as Social Anxiety Disorder. Symptoms range from shyness, inability to retain eye contact, moodiness, sleeping problems, sensitivity, difficulty to express emotions, etc.
Next Chapter: A push from both Anna and Paris drive Ciel to delve deeper into his deadly obsession. Later on, Ciel has a frightening encounter with a patient that causes him to take a frightening trip down memory lane.