An old roleplay i wrote with the amazing Urizen
Sleep, sweet, sweet child,
As you hear my lullaby
Nothing can hurt you;
So child don’t you cry.
Softly her voice whispered those songs, as clouds seem to weep ever so softly. Each drop of rain added its only quiet beat to her soft melody. She didn’t mind the steady tattooing of the rain, it made it easier. Somehow life had cause her to overdose, after spending sometime in a suicide ward, she was sitting in a rehab center staring carelessly off into the distance. In a twisted turn of events, she had ended up just like her father, a cruel, twisted person who took enjoyed taking drugs to ease the pain. As her finger twisted a strand of hair, her eyes flicker to the sound of a knock on the door. Her guardian angel dress in white had come to ask if she would join a group therapy session. As the door slide open, the female let out a small giggle as she took in the nurse. If anything, she was a teenager instead of a young twenty-two female. Her maturity wasn’t there at all.
The voice of the nurse sounded a little to sweet; prompting the female to answer back with silence. She had been here nearly two weeks, and still she had not talked to anyone. If it wasn’t for her singing voice that sometimes seeped through her white door and out into the halls, most would’ve thought her a mute. What horrible misfortune could have fallen upon her? The lingering cuts on her wrist proved that she had been in another institution before rehab. Her singing to herself and refusing to talk to anyone meant something right? Wrong, it was all just a game to her. Rehab was a joke. She had seen how successful it was when her father came her from one. Yes, rehab sure did stopped an abusive and perverse father from venting physical and sexual frustrations on his teenage daughter didn’t it? As she turned away from the nurse she could only listen as she finish the rest of her question.
“Do you feel like going to your group?”
Adele tried to resist the urge of letting out a wicked laughter. It was partially successful, seeing as she only giggled. She had been coup up in this room for some countless hours now, singing her childish songs to herself for some time. Why not? After all, Gabriel-of course this wasn’t the nurse’s name. However she took a fancy to nicknaming everyone-had bother to visit her in her lonely chamber. She might as well try and go on another adventure. As the wingless seraph let out a sigh and turned away, the young girl place on foot on the cold ground. Yes, it would be lovely to not be left to pace around the same room for countless hours. Lifting her azure eyes, the girl softly murmured in her singing voice. The notes were in some minor melodic key and they were awfully beautiful.
“Yes, I shall dance with those poor souls.”
Her words didn’t make any sense to the nurse, but at last she had broken her silly rule of no speaking to anyone. An artificial smile filled the lips of Gabriel and as she smiled at the young girl she spoke softly.
“You’ve finally made you first step towards recovery.”
(i recovery.) That word was like a curse word, Adele firmly believe that recovering did not exist. Everyone was plague by some illness, and their was no recovery. Of course, the young girl did believe in a cure, how the word “cure” was-to her-synonymous with death. Slowly the female made her way bare footed to the group therapy session, wondering what to expect. She had never been to one; the other place, well lets not touch on that subject. Not yet at least.
As the doors to the room open, Adele simply purses her lips, looking around the room. So; group sessions where co-ed. For the past few weeks, she only had female doctors visit her; that other place had told the rehab center that Adele did negatively with male contact. So for two weeks Adele had almost forgotten men had existed. (i Almost.) The memories of her father still linger in her mind, and as long as (i those) was there…
Cold penetrated the floorboards, seeped through the rain-matted windows and dredges of desire for sleep clinging to a drowsy state of mind. Lifelessly staring ahead, Chester curled up tighter, wished for sleep to come and found none. Eventually sound came from downstairs, shuffled across the creaky apartment stairs, a nudge against the door of his room made it give away, gentle voices cooing about a new morning.
Surrendering to the intrepid dawning of another day, Chester reached from underneath his sheets for the discarded phone to the side. Squinting at the bright screen clued away it was far too early to be up, yet late in regards to work, or whatever else you'd call it and so grudgingly abandoned the warmth trapped beneath the sheets. Whatever's left there.
It's not much.
Getting to work's a hassle of several tasks. Both his sisters're in the way of it; showering ahead of him, making breakfast, being too loud, noisy, present, too cheery in the face of today's depressing state. When finally the rain pelted his face, it's a relief almost. At the very least the smoke ignited from his cigarette is, upon inhalation.
Another day dealing with various different shades of fucked up.
Of needing to be firm, demanding, understanding, without judgement. Of not giving in, or going there himself. Life's pointless. That conviction's something he apparently transferred. Chester didn't need to be some mastermind psychologist to understand why these people gave in to drugs. There's simply nothing else there.
So what if they'd flown a bit?
Let their minds soar.
It's all okay.
Pulling up at the facility, driving through the creaky gates of Hell, and for some absolution, Chester made his way towards the ghastly innards. The premises are as pale as the rest of the day, withered trees, dead leaves covering the gravel and grass underneath. Inside's warm at least and Chester's the first to arrive at the fresh coffee, pouring a cup for the sake of it. Bitterness streaming down in the form of a black shade.
It's all good then.
A group session's on the schedule for him today.
Fortunately it's the same group he'd been sitting with for a few weeks now, common, making progress, nothing new and nothing he'd to focus on. The worst parts're where there's fights, arguments, and while Chester wasn't the shortest person, fighting's not his thing. He always lost control.
Everything's hazy with lack of sleep, nothing new.
Draping his coat across a chair, Chester ran his blond hair back, where it immediately sprang back into whatever stubborn state it'd come from. There's several people already waiting, sitting in plush chairs and on couches, chatting amongst themselves. One of them's an older man, Jack, with a belly flopping across his thin slacks. Another's a worn woman, Lisa, thin and brittle, like she'd snap if the other sat on her. They're friends, having become such over the course of the days, weeks wasting away. A skittish looking sort's at the other end, staring at twisted fingers clutched together in front of him, head bent down.
Chester wished he's allowed to smoke. He's sure some of the people present'd like it all the same.
"Mornin'," Chester drawled, clearing his throat afterwards. At least they're allowed coffee. The skittish man -Elliot- looked up, a flash of a tug of the lips shimmering across in recognition. A couple entered next, Ellen and Rachel, two women of roughly the same age. Alcohol too. Both of them.
Then there's a young fellow, Bernard. He'd wound up taking too much, too fast, too young.
The last to arrive's a surprise though, and Chester narrowed his eyes a little at the late arrival. No such thing's being late though. Group things're pretty much open class for everyone.
Letting himself flop down a chair, Chester nipped from his coffee, warming his hands on the foam cup. "If you want coffee now's yer chance," he told his guests. Elliot took the opportunity, fidgety, needing to do something. No doubt the man'd something to say.
Chester's eyes lifted towards the newcomer, "'ve a seat," he invited her.
The young blonde eye the gathering of people, devising what clever nick-names to come up with for them. Placing her fingers together she smirked a little to herself; she was eager to begin the dance. While most people were here to try and recover from their problems that plagued them, (i she) was here to waste time. Slowly she took her time looking each person into the face; till at last she pause to look at the man who was drinking coffee. Was he as “fucked” up as the inmates who locked up in this house of insanity? Ok; this facility wasn’t insane at all. It was just boring. Looking from one side to another, she chuckled a little before she skipped past the male and found something of interest. There was a place to get coffee. How swell, it had been a water since she had tasted the bitterness of it. Fixing herself a cup the girl took one sip and grimaced. Taking one more sip, she hummed to herself. Turning around the girl quietly bounced back to the group smiling ever so sweetly.
Once more; the girl locked eyes with the man who had moments early invited her to have a sit. Rolling her eyes at him the girl giggle an innocent smile and sweetly sung back to the male. “I rather stand, sitting to me is a little bland.”
Sticking her tongue out, the female spun around on her heels and slowly made her way to stand beside an odd pair of people. One was a rather large man, and the other a frail woman. A charming smile was on her face now as she leaned against the wall and sipped from her cup of coffee. Oh, Gabriel would be disappointed in her. The nurse thought Adele had finally been a “Good girl” and come participate in group therapy, but she was wrong.
Adele saw this whole thing as a game. In the end rehab was nothing like redemption. It was a waste of time, (i so why was she here?) In truth, she had no where to go. This was her home; she was a lost twenty-two year old girl who still had a dark past to overcome. Sipping the bitter coffee the girl looked down into the pool of darkness.
“Adele.” The female sung softly to the group as if it was her turn to break the silence. In truth no one had ask her to speak, but she felt obligated to do so out of boredom. Twisting a golden lock of hair around one of her fingers, the girl kept on sipping from the bitter drink. By now she had gotten reacquainted with the bitterness. It didn’t bother now.
Now her eyes made there way back to the man who had told her to sit down. For some reason he seemed rather interesting, though for what reason the girl didn’t know. But she had decided that whatever his name was, he wasn’t from this place. He was from the outside, just like the nurses. Being from the outside mean he would never truly understand people like her. The girl wasn’t concern however; Adele would just treat her like another player in her the game. The game of life what an awfully fun game to play.
“Adele China is my name.”
Commonplace rules, normalcy, rhythm, structure fuck that. It's all these people'd needed to escape their cruddy lives and end up in this rehabilitation centre. Outside's no better, so Chester's sort of lost on whether he wanted these people to be able to escape. Normal life's not all it's being made out to be. Rather, it's a sick joke, played by a God which deserved no followers or dogmatic beliefs. Faith's one of those things that's never going to come back. Whatever programme's offered, Chester knew it's not satisfying to all. Sure, some might change, but not because what the doctors said or did, no, it's because something inside'd crumbled to pieces.
These addicsts're built from nothing more than desire and obsession.
Sure everything's fun and games, until finally it's realized there's only one life to play with and there're no refunds on that token imagery. Everything decayed. Outside's the perfect image of that. Dead leafs falling to the ground like a sadness wrought Hell of their own design.
Adele's resistance to sit wasn't anything new, or exciting, nor's the singing tone to her voice. What's different's the softness of the spoken words, the way small fingers wrapped around the coffee, the way the woman's nose wrinkled in response to the bitter taste of caffeine.
Whatever contriteness guarding the woman's squishier innards's put up in defence didn't much faze Chester. Azure eyes, bordering green in the tepid fluorescent lights, plainly watched as the woman introduced herself. It's a selfish mannerism, the kind that spoke of a world built around a sole object lacking control inside the mind, shielding whatever's vulnerable underneath. Adele immediately struck him as sad.
Chester paused to take a breath and sipped his own coffee, brushing a hand underneath his nose before pulling his clipboard closer and jotting down who's present. Elliot finally sat down, dark eyes skittishly darting over to Adele before resting on something more familiar. Both Ellen and Rachel stopped chatting, "this is Ellen, I'm Rachel," Rachel introduced the both of them. Lisa said nothing, almost hiding behind Jack, hands wrought together, toying with the fray of her long sleeves.
They're addicts, not insane.
The difference's hard to tell.
Bernard watched Adele with different desire, and so Chester finally cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at the younger man. Caught, Bernard stared at his feet, no laces.
"Right," Chester heaved with a sigh, "So Sparky's won this time," he said.
The words ignited a mess of undignified protests, a whooping cheer from Jack and a shy smile from Lisa. "I'll be taking new bets for next week," he announced. Elliot crumpled his empty carton of coffee in his hand, pointing at Jack, "you! You cheat!"
Jack raised his meaty hands in defence, "did no such thing," he admitted.
Chatter amongst the group ignited and Chester sank back, watching Adele. Why'd she come anyway?
Bets came in, and Chester pulled himself back to the situation at hand to jot down which horses'd be bet on next. Favourites're announced on the television every Wednesday, and stupidly enough, the facility let its addicts watch that crap. Handing out Jack and Lisa's reward, Chester tucked back the wads of cash for the new bets and sank back down, "right. 's anyone got something he's wanting to share?"
That crap didn't fly very much for this group, but he'd to ask for the purpose of the group session anyway.
"Share, smeare, cheat," Elliot grumbled at Jack, who just guffawed and threw an arm behind Lisa on the couch. "Who's brought the cards?" Chester asked, putting down his clipboard and stood to pull up a table.
"We're not really talkers," Lisa whispered at Adele, looking up at the younger girl. Such a shame. Still had a whole future ahead.
So did Jack and her though, and she smiled meekly.
Rachel produced some cards and started hustling them before sharing around. "The game's poker," she told Adele. "You can't play if you keep standing though," Ellen advised with a snicker. Conversation flowed more naturally after that, easier. Chester wasn't one for touching on the sensitive parts like that, all open and bared. That took courage no addict'd, with right. No normal person'd either.
It's pointless to make them be something above and beyond while normalcy'd already failed to do right by them. The doctors didn't really know about his experimental methods though. Chester'd told the supervisor he's trying something unconventional. It'd worked fine, if not better than regular protocol up till now. Then again, if there'd be one game-breaker, it'd all be over.
In the end; group session just meant gambling and playing stupid games? As the young girl finished her cup of coffee it was all she could do not to hold back a thin smile. Good. The woman was still a little girl at heart who loved playing games. As one lady whispered to her, she nodded her head. (i ‘We’re not really talkers.”) Was what the lady simply said, and Adele nodded her head in agreement. Yes, yes, she could clearly still that the group hardly did any talking, unless it came to gambling on whatever, and playing cards. Today they were going to be playing poker? Ah! The young girl had some pretty naughty experiences when it came to poker. A sigh broke from her lips as she saw them gather all around the table, no, not today.
She didn't want to deal with anything that remind her of (i him.) Not today. Slowly she walked towards the nearest trash can and threw the cup away. If they weren't playing that man’s favorite game, then she would've gladly sat down and join in. But instead she had simply had enough for one day. In the middle of them getting ready to start a game, the female simply slipped out of the group room and made her way barefooted back to her room to be alone with her thoughts. She knew that running away would do her no good. Yet that was all she (i knew) how to do.
Gabriel was shock to see that the girl had withdrawn from her group therapy session so early. It had barely been ten minutes since she left, yet here she was back in her self-imposed exiled. Her arms were wrapped around her knees which were pulled to her chest, and her blue eyes were staring outside of her window. There was a small smile on her face as she took in the dead and decaying leaves. To her death was such a beautiful thing. Winter-when almost everything had died-was her favorite season. Even he would look beautiful in death; as long as he lived, he would remain ugly. Humming softly to herself she paid no attention as her nurse entered.
“It hasn't even been ten minutes.” The nurse scolded. “I thought you were finally going to get help for your addiction. I guess I was wrong?”
The girl said nothing. She had withdrawn into herself again. It was as if the only person Adele could trust was Adele.
“Did you not like Chester’s group.” The woman asked.
Turning her head the female blinked blindly. Who exactly was Chester? Was he the man who was from the outside?
“Chester.” The girl softly spoke his name trying it out on her tongue as if his name was a foreign word from another language.
“Yes.” Gabriel spoke.
“Does he give one on one sessions?” The female asked softly not looking away from the dying world that entertained her.
For a moment the nurse didn't know exactly what to say. Tapping her foot on the floor the nurse began to chew on her lips. If truth were to be told, she didn't exactly know if that was allowed. Shaking her head the nurse let out a sigh and spoke.
“Adele, why can’t you……” Her words falter as the girl stayed frozen.
“I guess, asking can’t hurt…” She let out a sigh.
With that answer, the girl didn't need to speak. She was being selfish, asking if the man-Chester wasn't it-would be willing to see her one on one she he already had a group to deal with. But she didn't care how selfish she was.
It's late when Aida came at him. She's the sort to fuss, like a mother with some fucked up complex, the kind which desired healthy children in the hospital for attention while crying hardest for said point of interest to stop whining and shut up. The day's a dreary one, remained that way and Chester'd spent it watching thin slides of brain, tissue and blood, done research, read up on articles and observed their patients. There's new research going on, another therapy, but then, they'd invented shock-therapy somewhere along the lines as well, breaking down the very fabric of personality. Chester's the sort to believe in letting people be who they're, even if that meant they'd a penchant for addiction. It's in their nature, something you couldn't tear away without leaving injury.
Some doctors apparently agreed and figured injury's better to live with than a healthy yet destructive nature. It's all ten shades of fucked up, but who's he to argue?
Apparently he's years away from being someone they'd recognize as whole and didn't that make him just as broken's the rest of them?
Chester narrowed his eyes at the nurse, a sturdy type, with blonde hair pulled back tightly, noosed in by whatever elastic's not giving away an inch. No earrings, because of the dress code, a tepidly coloured pants underneath the white garb meant to neutralize whatever's underneath. Protect personality, like that. Make them all the same.
She could've been his mom, though she'd died a long time ago. Maybe only by age.
"Are you getting enough sleep?" Aida asked sternly, not expecting a reply other than 'no', because it's evident in his bloodshot eyes, the way he's slightly withdrawn and hazy. He'd been that way for days now. Insomnia's a bitch.
He'd said so before, but if he'd to Aida, there's no recollection of ever doing so.
"Insomnia," Chester excused his appearance.
"Yes," Aida processed the sentiment, wanted to offer that there's medicine against that sort of thing but that'd just put him in with the patients, rather than the doctors. In the end it helped shit, because it just made his sleep more out of whack than it already was. As it was, there'd at least be two nights of solid sleep a week.
"Well, regarding the new participant to the morning group session," Aida started, putting off calling the woman's name. Girl, Chester corrected himself almost. She'd been young, younger than he's. Too young to be destroyed, and so Adele'd been beautiful still. Undisturbed by the adverse and destructive effects of the poisons she longed to take.
"Miss China?" Chester drawled, filling in the blanks.
Aida nodded, "yes, she ..." the nurse took a breath, staring out the window as if wanting to know what's so interesting about the view the addicts kept staring at. The change from summer to winter's enough plenty to make anyone depressed. It's like all hope's being stripped away. It's fine though. It's real. It's life.
"She requested a one on one session," Aida finally spat out.
Chester leaned back in his chair, elbow on the desk, craving a cigarette, "so? She left real early, might be good yeah? She's not talking much," Chester shrugged, unsure what the nurse wanted out of him.
"With you," the woman finally added.
Snorting, Chester ran a hand through his hair, swivelling in his chair, wanting to say no. It's cold and distant, like the white they're wearing and that's proper. The borders're there for a reason. It's good like this. There'd been something in the woman's eyes though, Chester found intriguing.
The door's plain like any other door's looks. White, a number, left there's a name tag, removable with hopes of someday discharging their patient. 'Adele China', easy enough and at least it hadn't been a lie. It's late, rounds're already over, nothing more to do but go home, steal dinner from one of his sisters and tuck back in the bed he'd vacated far to prematurely that morning. It's that kind of cold in the air outside.
Knocking for posterity, Chester entered the room and gently closed the door behind.
"'m just sayin', I don't do one on one sessions," Chester started out, tossed the empty clipboard he'd been carrying on the bed and sank down a chair. There's things like official and then there's a whole other mess going on behind the scenes of an institution. It's that kind of shit that brought on their bad names.
"If you got somethin' to say though ... I jus' so happen to be here," he pointed out slyly.
She was a prisoner to her memories. They formed shackles of depression around her legs and slowly pulled her towards her two addictions. One was cutting; the scars still lingered. The other one was almost overdosing on pills. Even though she put on the act of being pure and innocent and silly little girl who acted very childish she was far from the latter. She was selfish, hateful, and cruel. He had made her that way. His breath reeked of alcohol as he lifted up her night-dress. Yes, for as a young girl, Adele loved that man. She would always jump up into his arms-never minding that he would grope her -and snuggling with the beast. Those were the days when she was innocent and had no ideal that wolves feasted on stupid little sheep. When he asked her not to tell mommy, she should’ve told on him. That would’ve saved her from going from “daddy’s little girl,” to. Stop it!
A shiver went down her spine as she tried to suppress those memories. She had no dad. Only a mother and the bogyman who would visit her while her mother was asleep. Yes, the girl’s monsters were real. Rape and molestation were not things little girls can imagine. Her dark blues eyes looked around the room which was almost in pitch blackness, save for the small lamp that rested on her bed stand. The day was dying away and night time was coming. How perfect. Monster’s only crawled out at night and that was when brave little girls had to stand up and boldly claim (b “I’m not afraid of monsters.”) Yet words can not defend against alcoholics.
Slowly her fingers wrapped against her legs. She doubted that Chester could save her from the darkness. The damage was already done. Yet she was interested in the male named Chester. He was another man and he seemed to be an interesting one at that. That, or mad seeing as he allowed for Addicts to do what-ever the hell they wanted instead of discuss why they did the things they did. The young girl found that one thing slightly attractive about him. He seemed to be a man who was easy-going. The blonde was sick of men who care to much about their own pleasures and had used her to satisfy them. Adele needed another male who was like her. She needed someone who seemed to not care about anything.
Rising up from her bed, the female moved to turn off the lamp and flick on the light switch. It was getting late and the female assumed that the male would come. Though she had been waiting for hours filled with doubt, she couldn’t help but remain hopeful. No, hopeful isn’t correct. She was curious. What would he think when she saw her sitting in her bed, staring out the window towards the outside world? The world to which he belong to, and she use to as well.
Thirty minutes past there was a knock on the door. That knocking was followed by the male who looked exhausted. As he spoke the girl simply giggled to herself. Yes, she knew that the male didn’t do one on ones. However she had grown accustom to being alone talking to a therapist at her old place. Why stop now? Both places were trying to stop her addictions. One just happen to be psychological, the other was physical. Both places were useless.
Sitting there in the silence, the girl softly turned her head and lifted up her sleeves. Might as well show him what caused her to overdose in the first place. She had gotten use to taking pills there, that it sorta became an addiction. Oh well.
“I have two addictions, one caused the other.. But both can be traced back to one person.” She started, looking at the male with those blue eyes. “He’s also the reason why I left group today. Poker was his favorite game; he loved gambling. However whenever he would lose he would make….” She stop there, not willing to go any further. Not today. If anything she was interested in the male. Chester, what made him want to work with addicts?
“Was your father a nice man, Chester?” She asked softly.
“Did he tell you to treat girls nicely?”
Classes're tedious. Chester'd have never started any of that shit if it weren't for his little sister pushing him. He'd to make something of himself, they said, if only to spurn reality and the Gods that figured it's all some messed up game. Adele's confession's nothing new either; it's not uncommon for a patient to be confused. It's not the pills, or the cutting that's the addiction, but saying so'd just get her mad right then. Admitting's the first step, in the countless programs doctors'd made up for addicts. Faith's another, but Chester didn't think it's proper to've something fictional indoctrinated onto the mind, like some fucked up pregnancy, it felt like rape. It ought to anyway.
For some it worked just fine and that's okay too.
Licking his dry lips, Chester unearthed his cigarettes, toying with the package before lifting his eyes at the whimsical woman -girl, or perhaps something else entirely. Above everything, from the perch she'd chosen. A bird maybe. One day she'd have to come down, but fuck her if she'd chosen to stay up there for as long's possible. Her question made Chester ponder whether there're parents in the picture somewhere, or whether the woman'd pushed them away. Seemed likely. There's something annoying about the whole attitude Chester's just too dazed to get in to.
"Dya mind if I smoke?" Chester asked, pilfering a cigarette from the package before tucking the cancerous addiction between his lips. The irony of the action wasn't lost on him. It's late though, the day'd been long, and there's this craving tearing at his focus. Perhaps he should've had a bigger lunch.
They served the same crap to patients as they'd to personnel.
It's hiding; they're both hiding perhaps. She behind this person that had probably raped her, loved her, discarded her and Chester behind the countless patients he's meant to help. Instead of saying that Adele's the reason she left, instead of this man, Chester kept quiet and toyed with his lighter, staring out the window. There's no one else responsible for your actions but you. Of course, you'd be conditioned, and that worked both ways, but that's the fun thing about therapy: breaking free from those limitations.
There's a reason he hadn't chosen monopoly for a game.
Life's a gamble.
His dad's another story entirely though.
She'd pinned him that one good. Narrowing his eyes at Adele, Chester pursed his lips, cigarette tucked between his fingers still, lighter in the palm of the same hand. Telling's not smart. Something to hang over him -so what good's trust in this ordeal?
Trust. Chester snorted, looking down for a second feeling the burn behind his eyelids when they closed. It's just a second, but sleep's there, ready, waiting. Chester figured he'd ignore it anyway. A short shake of his head brought back the man's attention, "guess he did," he finally said. Though that's before the man drowned himself and fell apart. Broken down against the bark of a tree, adorned in wrought metal, deflated cushions and decorated in blood.
Nice medal you'd earned yourself there, 'dad'.
"Yours tell ya to love boys?" he countered patiently, controlled.
It's a target. He expected her to shoot, defend, whatever. Response's better than nothing sometimes. Sometimes it's dangerous. It's why they'd argued against one on one sessions with patients. Humans're surprising creatures sometimes, behaving unexpectedly -though all against set rules and guidelines. There's a box for everyone in psychology. Even the outliers.
Silence's fine too, Chester reasoned. There's certain peace in being locked up in a white room. Even the padded ones appeared comfortable sometimes. Sliding down in the seat some, legs stretched out in front of him, Chester lit his cigarette, uncaring for whether or not Adele's appreciative of the gesture. It's habitual almost, inhaling the smoke, the need to get that fix. In some ways, addiction's living, everywhere, in the air you breathed, the water you drank, the movements you made. It's all ingrained on the system, commonplace and desirable, rewarding.
"Why me?" Chester asked after a bit, but figured Adele's choice could've been any random person, considering she seemed to favour that sort of thing.
“Not at all. I could go for one myself.”
Adele spoke those words softly as she shoved her sleeves down to cover her ugly scars. She had showed him those hideous cuts that she had etched into her skin. Looking back she didn’t understand why she found the knife so appealing. Self-mutilation didn’t ease the pain at all. Well, when he saw the cuts on her skin he asked her what was wrong. It was ironic that the man who hurt her the most hated seeing her hurt. He had given her more scars than the ones that claimed her skin. Yet those scars could not be seen by the human eye. They were invisible scars, filled with terror, filled with pain. Sitting back down the female listen to what the male had to say. Of course his statement would be brief. The way he said it though. Before she had a chance to carry on with that thought, the male shot the same question back at her. The answer to that was an honest no.
That horrible man didn’t teach her anything about boys. All he did was teach her how to take a man’s touch. At such a young age, she learn things little girls should not have known. Shivers climbed her body. Even though years had pass, she could still recall the first night. She had been eight. Her blue eyes blinked. Her hands were trembling and she bounced to her feet and twirled around the room. No, she had gotten to good at suppressing these memories. She had spent the past few years denying his very existence. She was a bastard. Her real father was Prince Charming. He had left her with a wicked step-father. It was a lie. She knew the truth yet she wouldn’t admit it. Turning her eyes to the male she placed her fingers together and spoke.
“I never knew my father; or rather I deny his existence. I never learned how to treat boys. I was taught only how to sleep with grown men.” She spoke the truth as clear as day. For a second guilt threaten to wash over her, yet she swallowed it back. There was something completely wrong with her. Victims who had suffered as she had were not as cold as she was. Nor did they act as childish as she did.
Even though she admitted to being a rape victim, it didn’t register in her mind. She was a princess locked inside a tower and Chester was knight who (b had) to save her from the dragon. Of course in this case the dragon was not made of flesh and blood, but of memories left in the darkness. The memories stalked the young girl, begging her to accept and vanquish them once and for all, but the girl refuses to do so. Instead she exiles the memories, making them grow stronger and more horrible with each passing day. Humming softly the girl sat down.
Her blues eyes took in the male as he asked a question. Yes, why indeed. Why had the girl chosen this man:? Why had she pleaded for the nurse to bring him to her? The answer was simply because she wanted him. The lust wasn’t a sexual one. It was a childish one. She wanted him, like a girl wanted a small doll to keep company at night whilst the monsters threaten to hurt her in her sleep. He was her salvation.
Adele refused to see it however.
For now he was just a simply play thing to her. Another part of the game called life where game over was death.
“Ever princess wants knight I guess.” She giggled softly as her fingers twisted around her hair. “I know I always wanted a knight. When ever he-“ A voice stopped suddenly. Closing her eyes she let out a breath. “Should I tell you who He is?” She whispered softly.
Gabriel had told her (i “You’ve finally made you first step towards recovery.”) The angel had lied to her. She hadn’t taken her first step. She would never take her first step, as long as she denied his very existence.
It's in that blink, that tremor, the feint discomfort of a mind wanting to be rescued from whatever demons, monsters, tormented the innards. It's carefully restrained inside, bound to chains and pinned to the wall and put behind bars but the sound's always there, the screams, the hollow siphoning of willpower to contain something that desperately wanted release. Like anger, like fuming red covering the periphery of your vision till everything that's left's the person right in front of you, slowly covered in that same red. Everything's a blur when that happened. Chester knew how that felt, his knuckles ached with the memory and he closed his left hand into a fist. A man's hands're made for combat like that. Thumb right there at the centre to prevent the more fragile bones of the phalanges from breaking.
Knuckled reinforced and jutted under an angle. Smaller female hands.
Hers're trembling and Chester couldn't help but watch as the finer response was hidden underneath a more frivolous, intended one. She pranced like one of God's angels, trying to deny Lucifer's just one of them. Hiding a secret, thickly underneath a veil of clouds and merriment. So who's he in that story?
There're no angels that'd ever been saved.
Lucifer's still an outcast for his sympathy towards the sinners.
Murder ought not to be rewarded in any way. So shouldn't that force him to walk away from the constructs Adele was carefully building around them? There weren't any fucking fairytales here, no matter how hard they tried.
Hitting, yes, Chester'd expected that much. Incest, not so much. So it's the father then -maybe, at first. The root of the problem, quite literally. Cutting's a mild response to something's sick as that, but it's not surprising the female'd ended up addicted in some manner or form. Her addiction's love -the wrong sort.
It's all fine.
Just coping with reality.
Maybe it'd been easier to say to a stranger like him. No judgement, no noticing of flaws that'd led to her own destruction, though who's to blame an eight-year-old child? Then again, it's not the first lie Chester'd heard in the short few months he'd been working at the facility.
"'re you askin' me for advice? Or dya wanna tell me?" Chester drawled, contemplating whether Adele should. She's under the supervision of a colleague, a real doctor and maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Most patients'd breach some sort of barrier telling it once, but if it's like a secret, he's stuck with making the real doctor believe the story. And truthfully, Chester wasn't sure whether this's all some sort of cry for attention, salvation or something else entirely. He wouldn't be surprised if in some way the dysfunctional love'd be pointed towards him. It's not something Chester's looking for.
"...shouldn't be here," he finally confessed, standing up from the chair, peering down his hands. There's the trail of smoke dancing from the cigarette between his fingers upwards, dry, tired eyes staring for a moment as if in contemplation. She'd expressed the need for a cigarette and so Chester closed the distance between them, stretching out his hand.
There's at least half left still, some of the ashes having danced towards the floor. It's not uncommon for addicts to drink a shit-ton of coffee or smoke habitually to've something to cling to. Apparently facing life's like a free fall from heaven.
Earth's none too kind to those who'd once soared above it.
"Take it, then I'm goin'," Chester instructed, offered, or something in between.
"If it's true what you're sayin' though, you're in the wrong place," he said, considering Adele a patient from a professional point of view. She's better off in a mental ward, exploring her responses to being raped at a young age. And it's rape. It's nothing else at that young an age.
"We deal with addictions, not rape," Chester confided. His voice's calm though, hand steady, still offering the burning cigarette while holding the package with the other hand. It's fine either way, after all, she's adult now, or close to it and it's her own choice. Help's something you'd to want in order to receive.
Yes. The little voice was screaming inside her head, telling the young woman to confess her trouble past.
Those iron-walls she built up inside herself cause her to become alienated to a few people. Only a handful of souls were allowed to inside her cocoon. Yet before the person could reach the core she would shut down. Adele loved to tip toe and dance around the center but when it came to diving deep into that whole, she refused. She wasn’t brave enough to fight the monsters. She couldn’t trust enough to let a knight fight her monsters for her. That was why therapy had failed her. Perhaps the male was thinking she belonged in a mental ward? She had already been. The only good that did her was showing her another exited to go through. But now, with Chester standing before her, she could finally take the right step in vanquishing her demons. What would she do?
Reaching out the female took the half-smoked cigarette and chose nicotine over salvation. Inhaling she let out a sigh. Closing her eyes the female spun around in an almost childish manner. In the end she was better at creating more problems than solving them. As she took the cigarette out of her mouth and fell on her bed, she barely just caught the words of the male. (i “We deal with additions, not rape.”) A smile flashed across her lips briefly as he spoke those words. It made her want to chuckle a little bit. Did he think she was lost? Did he think she didn’t belong here?
“Perhaps there is no place for me, Chester. I was seventeen when I ran away from home. I was never really a drinker, or a junkie. Yet I found pills and cutting to be quite lovely. At nineteen, my ex-girlfriend found me almost dead in a tub of my own blood. Slitting my wrist didn’t kill me. The doctors had me go to a mental ward. I lived never told them about my drug addiction. Soon I was able to leave, but that didn’t save me from my monsters. At twenty, I started partying and traveling. My addiction to pills found me again, and overdosing got me thrown back into a mental ward. Once again they thought I suffered from severe depression and made the mistake of giving me more pills. Fast forward, to a month before my twenty-third birthday. I’m still fucked up, broken and looking for a place to belong.” A laugh followed after her speech as she closed her eyes.
“I never wanted anyone of this.”
She whispered as she smoke the rest of the cigarette. Those blue eyes glance over to the male looking for something. Yet what it was they were looking for? The girl had no ideal. She had tried to find answers ever since she ran away. Yet those answers remained invisible for the girl. It seemed as if Adele was a poison and a curse to herself. Life had been cruel to her, yet (i she) had been crueler to herself. The only person she had to blame was herself. Yes, she had been a victim of sexual abuse, but no one had force the pills down her throat. No one told her to pick up the blade. Turning away from the male she spoke to him.
“Thanks for the cigarette. You can go now.”
It had been two days since she had spoken with Chester. She had thought therapy to be a game. She never did care once about what happen to her. Yet she had given away something she couldn’t get back. She had given the man pieces of her past. She hadn’t told the nurse about what she had gone through. She never even told the therapist about what had all befallen her. Yet that man who had given her a cigarette. That man whom she had only met once. That man had been the one to which she had confided the most in. Why had she done so? A soft knock was on her door and Gabriel walked in. How funny, that the a messenger angel would spend time with a fallen one.
“How was your one on one” Before the female could finish, Adele spoke.
“Lovely, it was fucking lovely; you spoke with him, didn’t you?” The young girl accused her nurse. To that the female stayed silently.
Damn these doctors! Weren’t they meant to have all the answers? Rising up from her bed the girl let out a frustrating growl. This was (i going) to just be a (i game.) She was going to have fun teasing the doctors, but now.
“I’m going to group sessions. I bored sitting in this damn room. Good-bye Aida.” With that the bare footed girl began walking back down the familiar path she had taken two days earlier. She didn’t care that group sessions had started ten minutes ago or that she was late. She need something to do, since the walls she had been building her were threatening to come crashing down on her. Facing your own demons is a scary thing.
The confession's awkward and painful, and there's this need to be in control, something Adele'd no doubt managed by taking pills, by cutting. Cutting especially's like that. There's the resistance of the mind, of the flesh to conquer and it's victory -the reward's pain. A sting of being alive perhaps. It's not like Chester couldn't understand what drove these people, it's just that he didn't care for any of it. Not his world to entertain.
All that's left's misery.
Even Adele's dismissal's one of wanting, needing to be in control and that's okay too. There's words on his lips about not needing to be fucking anywhere to feel a sense of belonging, that that's the sort of thing which came from the mind and heart, if you believed in that shit, instead of a place. A place'd help sometimes. There'd be peace in a nice environment but contentment's not something coming easy to addicts.
Adele's words're progress though and for that Chester figured she'd to be rewarded. Not giving her back another glance, he narrowed his eyes and nodded, turning towards the door. The click of the lock's gentle, and if giving in to fantasy their encounter'd easily be something of imagination. She'd talked, there's progress and so when Aida asked, Chester confirmed there'd been talking. It's senseless to deny, since there're hidden cameras in each of the patient's rooms.
For guarding their own lives, more than anything. Observation maybe. There's never anything new or interesting to see. To each their own. All of them're so painfully human and fucking sensitive to boot. The details aren't something Chester shared though the rape's a concern, and quite possibly a lead into her recovery and so he'd mentioned that in her charts. It's up to the doctor to use something which'd been told in confidentiality.
It felt like betrayal but that's fine. What're they to one another if nothing?
If not patient and doctor?
It'd be wrong then.
No sleep'd come the following night, or the night after that. The world's this blur of meshing colours, of blotted sounds and thick syrup for air which only the smoke and scent of coffee alleviated. There're colleagues concerned but insomnia's something he'd dealt with his entire life already. Hadn't even slept through a proper night when he's a kid.
Mel sometimes sat with him, his little sister curling up on the couch to see what's on the television, only to leave when static took over and Chester kept watching the same dull and dead image with the same passion he'd any other programme. Sometimes she fell asleep right then and there, peaceful. It seemed peaceful.
The other half of the twins, Sam, wasn't like that.
She's more the one forcing him to eat breakfast and get up to do shit.
Like going to work.
Group session's pretty lax, experienced patients already, the ones who're on the road to recovery and so it's no surprise Chester found himself dozing off without being awoken by any of his tenants.
Ellen just snickered at the sight Chester posed and draped one of the blankets across his shoulders, frame sagged against the armrest, legs still on the floor. The clipboard's carefully dragged away by Rachel from lax hands and it's Lisa putting a finger to her lips upon seeing Adele approach. She'd been on the lookout.
Bernard and Jack're shuffling cards, Elliot's almost envious Chester got to sleep peacefully but it's no real jealousy since he knew their supervisor'd trouble sleeping in the first place.
"We'll wake him in an hour or so," Lisa whispered softly, the small woman confessed as she cast a glance into the room.
"Would you like to sit with us?" she asked, her old eyes hollow, yet glistening with something of hope. "She's too good for us," Elliot hissed with a snarl, not even bothering looking up from the cards he'd been dealt.
"Elliot," Rachel chastised, then looked up at Adele, "don't mind him -he's a grump."
Those blue eyes took in the form of the sleeping male. Oh how lovely. Here the little girl wanted to pester him but if he was going to sleep. A sigh broke her lips. See had been frustrated a little while ago. However that walking had calmed her down. As her blue eyes took in the form of the sleeping male, it wasn’t into she heard a male’s voice that she broke away. (i “She’s to good with us.”) Turning those blue eyes she looked silently at the male who had spoken those words to her. She was better than the rest? Now that was laughable thought. Adele was the worst one in the group. Her delicate figure belied her darkest secrets about her. As the a young lady invited Adele to come and sit down beside her, a small smile founds its way on the girls face. (i “Thank you.”)
As she sat down beside the female, her hands folded , a small smile form on her face. The men were getting ready to play a card game. Poker? That’s what they played last time, and that’s what the female figured they play again. How lovely. Crossing her fingers and placing them in her lap the female looked at how the cards were dealt out. In truth, there was an urge for her to play the game. She had learned how to play and play the game well. After all when you’re a young cub in a pack of wolves, you learn how to defend yourself rather quickly.
With eyes wide open she watches the game with hawk-like blue eyes. In her brain she’s silently picking apart the game. She could easily tell who’s going to win and who’s not. Counting cards was a nifty little trick that she picked up from Brian. When ever poker night was going on down stairs and she couldn’t sleep, she was drawn to that pack of lions. Sometimes, before they got to drunk, they would be nice and teach her a trick or two. Hell, she even enjoyed playing games with them. It was all fun and games-before she turned fourteen. Fourteen was a bad year for her. That’s when she started to learn that sometimes winning was important. Losing wasn’t an option.
(i “May I play?”) Adele asked.
A wicked grin formed on her lips as she won her third game. (b “Cheater.”) A man grumbled. To that Adele place the card down on the table and giggle slightly. She wasn’t a cheater at all. She just knew when to fold and when to bet. Though it was true that some would consider counting cards as a form of cheating but the girl didn’t car. As she looked at one of the men she simply shrugged her shoulders and spoke softly. (i “I’ve been playing poker since I was a little girl. What can I say? I learn from the best.”) She whispered as she leaned forward.
Whether it was her childish giggling or her girlish charm, the male let out a sigh. Even though they had been gambling, Adele wasn’t to keen on keeping the stuff that she had won. There was no reason to. Looking up at the clock the female smile, it had been a hour and a half. Maybe Chester had slept long enough? Rising up the girl turned on her tiptoes and slowly began to creep softly towards the sleeping male. As she loomed over her she slowly move to rub his shoulders. Reaching out towards him, the female pulled away and turned on her toes. If he was sleeping during group sessions, than why should she wake him? This was his job. He got paid to be here; if he felt like sleeping than so be it. Twirling around on her toes the female let out a yawn.
“When he wakes..”
Adele’s voice trailed off. She had wasted quite a big of time laughing and being social with people who weren’t her nurse. This was the first time she had interacted with people in a while. It felt kinda good she guessed. But still…
“Don’t tell him I was here.”
With that the girl walk out of the group session back into her own room. For the small moment in time the girl had the chance to wear a pure smile again. Purity was something Adele had forgotten; it felt good to be remind of it.
In the end it's late when Ellen's waking him up. Session's already ended a while ago and there's some frustration on the woman's face, her hair dangling down as she's hovering over him. Confusion's all that's painted in Chester's face though, a failure to make sense of the blurry shit happening in front of his eyes and a sluggish hand'd gone up to try and clear up the image. It's harsh when it does.
"What does it take to wake you up?" Ellen lamented with a sigh, spying some more intelligence in her waking charge. Rachel's at the door, talking to someone, stalling. They could've fired off a cannon and fail to wake him, actually, it's a miracle he's at this point. Dazedly blinking around, Chester's slow to respond to Ellen's tugging arm getting him up from the couch and he staggered drunkenly before running a hand through his hair.
There're cards still on the table. Seats hadn't been cleared either. Seven chairs.
If they'd have put up an extra chair to indicate he's there and participating, they wouldn't have dealt him cards. Ellen followed Chester's gaze and started for the cards, clearing them away. Rachel'd to surrender to whoever's at the other end of the door, but there's nothing left to see inside now and so they're all good.
Sure, he looked like a corpse risen from the dead, but that's okay.
Nothing new there.
A suspicious glare from Rob and everything's waved away by a casual gesture on his side. Everything's cool.
"Are you feeling okay?" the nurse asked when they're in the hall, escorting the ladies back to their ward. He must've looked pale some, but frankly, all he's feeling's sleepy.
For a change.
"Maybe you should go home early today," Rob suggested, saying it's fine to surrender to feeling miserable every now and then. Chester hadn't missed a day of work yet though and doing so now felt like opening the floodgates to a more comfortable amount of time spent working. "I'll talk to Aida," the other said, flashing a comforting smile.
Ellen looked back and flashed him a look urging to give in already. It's fine. It'd just be for a day or so, right?
"Fine," Chester finally gave in, "fine."
Couldn't stand their looks of sympathy and fuck that.
Why they're letting him drive himself's probably just laziness on their part though. Somewhere halfway, where there're lots of trees shedding their leaves on the road, Chester felt reality swirl away into darkness unwittingly. There's no fighting the lax peace that came with such experience and the engine's whine's this perfect buzz guiding him deeper, the warmth in the car doing away with autumn's wet cold.
It's the sound waking him up.
The sensation of tipping over, startled into the airbag of the car. Bent metal shrieked but for a moment, his body flung into the pillow harshly, no seatbelts to guide him back and so there's the window for a short moment, hitting him painfully. Or maybe he'd hit it. It's hard to tell.
Slick leaves'd brought him off course and when Chester finally managed to pry open his eyes there's a tree blocking his view.
Unsure of what'd possessed him, he tried to restart the engine in the following silence, try and put the car in reverse. Nothing's there. Cursing himself, Chester reached for his phone, surprised when a droplet of blood hit the screen.
"Hey Chester, I've got class in a minute, what's up?" Mel's voice resounded painfully and Chester cursed himself for being so stupid. The sting gathered at his temple and carefully a few fingers darted out to discover a cut. Pulling down the mirror, it's easy to tell he'd been trying to crack the glass in using his skull on that side. It's not too bad though.
"Chester...?" She sounded worried somehow.
"I think my car's broken, can you pick me up?" he mentioned, resting his head on the wheel now the airbag'd deflated.
"...are you at work?" his sister asked suspiciously.
Right, where's he anyway?
Somewhere in between. "No, 'm at ..." a sigh, "that long road."
"Stay where you are, I'm coming over right now," Mel promised with certain urgency. Someone else's approaching the car though, shocked it seemed.
Still holding the phone to the side of his face, Chester just stared at this approaching person, dazed. Like nothing's real. Like the ambulance eventually arriving isn't, or Mel sitting there with him. All he wanted's sleep, but that didn't come until she'd taken him home after getting checked out.
He'd gotten lucky, in a sense. Just a few scrapes; nothing bad. The car's totalled however but that's fine, since there're busses and it's safer that way anyway.
Sleep knocked him out thoroughly that day and for once Sam let him sleep. Screw work.
He'd to go back eventually though, so after a day of being fucked up bored with television, Chester decided to go and face a whole other world of madness. Again there're these stares of sympathy, but he ignored them this time around. It's better since he'd slept some.
Ellen and Rachel're fussy, Elliot just asked him whether the stitches weren't giving him a headache, since he'd that once, for a while. Lisa's quiet, unable to really look at the plasters covering the dark thread and Jack's got this pained look in his eyes. Bernard's quiet too but Chester just shrugged it all off.
"It's fine, don't feel a thing," he mentioned, rubbing his eyes before cutting the cards. Maybe they'd play a different game today. Something new.
After the group session where the male had been knocked out, the female was able to calm down. In truth, she hadn’t been frustrated, she had been flustered. The sudden outpouring of the truth had come without warning. In the day that followed after her confession her mind had been wondering whether or not she was safe. Could she trust the man? Did she do the right thing to reveal parts of her fucked-up past to a man she had just met? Apparently it was just over reacting. In the end she was pretty sure that he hadn’t told anyone about her taking pills or her cutting habits. However the issue that worried her was if Chester had told Gabriel if he she had been a victim of sexual abuse. She hadn’t told anyone about that. Or rather, she never admitted to being one. She would never admit to be defile through acts of forced incest. She had pride. She was a bitch; she wasn’t a slut however. Sitting down on her bed, the female was looked outside the window. It seemed as if all the leaves had fallen, winter would be here soon.
As the white door open up, the female turned her head. For a brief second she was entertained by the thought of that male coming to check on her. However she guessed that would be a taboo. Instead it was the nurse. Guilt threatens to stir in the stomach of the female. She had thrown harsh words at other a two days back. The nurse had been nice to her; the f-bomb wasn’t something she deserved to have thrown at her. Adele was sure she had apologized to her the day after, but she wasn’t sure. As the young nurse slip into the door, the blonde curled her lips. (i “Chester”) his name was on her lips, but she wouldn’t admit to it. Instead she sat there looking a child to who wanting something but was too afraid to ask. The nurse knew this and smile at the young girl.
“Thinking about Chester?” The nurse asked.
“I don’t care about him anymore. He’s boring.” Adele spoke, as she turned her away. The twenty-two female was lying. She didn’t care though.
“Next week is your birthday; you’re turning twenty-three.” The nurse stated as she sat down on a chair and smile. The blonde blinked and shook her head.
“Yes.” Adele spoke as she ran fingers through her hair. Sometime in the mere future she would age. What does that matter? Last time she checked, she didn’t have a place to call home.
“What will you do?” The nurse asked.
Here Adele just shrugged her shoulders as she brushed fingers through her hair. She hadn’t given her birthday any thought. In truth, the female never understood why people freaked out about birthdays. It was just another day, nothing change. If anything it just pushed one closer to six feet of soil. Looking back up at the female she simply shrugged.
“I never had a reason to celebrate birthdays.” She answered.
“Mother tried to throw parties for me, but that never work.”
“What about your father?” The nurse asked.
Here the female shot the nurse a cold look. Those blues eyes could’ve cut through diamonds. Had Chester told the nurse that her father had done things to her as a child?
“I don’t have a father.” Adele stated simply.
“You can’t keep running away; sometimes there are things in life that you can’t control.” The nurse whispered to the woman.
To this, Adele stood up and smile a sweet smile before she spoke.
“Yes I can. I can control me walking out of here and going to group sessions.”
The first thing eyes did when she got to group sessions was look at the male’s face. There were stitches on his head and the female simple shrug. He probably was a dumbass and fell-asleep while driving. As she looked across the group the female simple smile as she stood over the table. Last time they played a game she had had fun. After some odd years of not playing poker, she was glad that she still remember the lessons those men taught her. As Chester cut the deck Adele simply let out a small smile and spoke.
“Yo, mind if I join in?”
Yesterday'd been weird, a mesh of sleep and no sleep. The day before that the memory of blood's still heavily imprinted on his mind; the way the nurse tugged at the wire creating stitches, sowing through skin like it's a rag which'd be patched easily. Like nothing's wrong. Some local sedative which'd made his sight go wonky and then there's Mel, hand holding his, annoyed slightly for missing class and then there's that worry he'd glared at. 'Ungrateful', 's what she'd muttered under her breath for a bit, but the anger's birthed from worry more than anything else. Some of the blood'd gotten onto his shirt, soaked it right through.
Sam'd tossed it out.
No use in cleaning it, it'd leave only orange stains at best.
Thought'd gone to Adele then, to why she's in the institute to start with. There's the desire to talk, but not talk, participate, but fuck around. If it's a game, there's a wide world out there waiting. Or perhaps it's the safety of being locked away from all that which beckoned her insubordinate behaviour to spark up. Most likely, Adele's doing it for someone else.
Family? Didn't seem likely after what she'd said.
Chester'd flinched away from his thoughts when pain wrinkled his skin, made him sigh out in frustration. It's sensitive, not really hurting.
Like now, it's there, but not really there. Lisa's still watching the stitches and Chester merely raised an eyebrow, conveying 'stare all you like, nothing's going to change'. Staring's fine, just fine, though the dried blood's maybe nothing he ought to expose his tenants to.
After dealing the cards, Chester reached for his coffee, wordlessly pointing out to the blonde joining them that there're cards for her too, spread out in front of the empty seat.
"She part of this group now?" Elliot groused, already able to predict he'd be losing his hands to the whimsical girl.
"Does it matter?" Bernard rebutted, eager to have some pretty girl liven up their private party. Ellen and Rachel were too old for him, Lisa older still and taken by Jack anyway. He didn't go after men, that's gross.
"It does if I keep losing," the gruff man argued, the protest dying in mutters.
Chester furrowed his brow, confused to some extent since he hadn't ever seen Adele play. Raising both his eyebrows at the guilty consciences painted upon the faces of Bernard, Ellen and Rachel, Lisa glancing away entirely, Chester heaved a sigh.
So he'd made an even bigger mess that day.
Rubbing a hand by his forehead, plucking absentmindedly at a stitch until it hurt, Chester figured work'd forgive him if he feigned slight amnesia. Concussion maybe, or something like that, "I'm pretending I didn't hear that," he drawled languidly.
Elliot looked up at Adele, "sorry," he apologized, though it wasn't laced with sincerity as much as it was with frustration. Always conscience about making mistakes, Elliot that is.
"You good at poker then?" Chester inquired, staring at the closed cards people're fiddling with. He hadn't picked up his yet. Either way Adele'd win, since his mind's just about everywhere and focussing on shit's easier because of having slept, but harder because of the distraction of pulling skin.
Sipping from his coffee, Chester didn't extend any effort to really pull himself away from the daze he'd sunk into, contemplating what's best. Evidently, with Adele there, the balance's lost. The group's trying to mend it, but it's awkward.
Change's good though. Practice for real life.
"We started off wrong," he piped up eventually. "'s introductions and such we skipped," Chester suggested, plying his cards an end from the table to see what they're. They're faces, so that's reasonably good. It didn't matter since they're not playing for any real money anyway. There's a fictional score he kept though, so if there's debt and winnings, it'd up to the group whether or not to make dollars out of numbers.
"Let's tell Adele why each one of us 's here," Chester suggested, curious to see if things'd changed. The game didn't miss a beat, and the group's leader put down the first card on the table.
"I get paid," Chester confessed, shrugging. It's as simple as all that, and fair.
"We want to marry," Jack said, grabbing Lisa's hand. She smiled up at the man, "... and to break free," she breathed softly, difficulty with admitting her addiction.
"I want to see my kids," Ellen confided, a wistful smile curling up her lips as she watched Jack and Lisa's hands break apart eventually. Her husband'd left, took care of the children now instead of her. It's Adele's turn then and Chester simply watched her.
What's her reason? What's she wanting to get back to?
Sam-with her brown eyes and dark smile-was the reason why Adele was here. There was something similar between the two female, being the fact that they were both victims of pedophilia. Only one slight difference set them apart. Adele was fucked by older men. Older men were fucked by Sam. Her vivacious smile, her smooth skin, she was a mistress when it came to seducing other men. She loved how their rough hands roam wildly over her body. Her love from older men was-of course-spawn by her father’s treatment towards her. Her father was callous and expected too much of the girl. He never gave her any affection, and because of that, she turned to other men. Sam was two years older than Adele and they had met when they were in she was fourteen.
They had been roommates, and when the sexually deprived girl caught eyes on the girl, well, let’s just say she had given the young blonde trouble girl a different taste than men. As the blue eye girl remember how that girl had pin her hands beside her and softly kissed her neck, her face began to turn scarlet. As her face turned red, a giggle escapes the blonde’s lips as she looked to Chester and the other group. Their relationship was roughly eight years off and on. Sam was the only person who had figured Adele out; somehow she knew all of Adele’s unspoken secrets. Perhaps it was the glasses that she wore. Yes, those glasses allowed Sam to see what was hidden away in Adele’s soul, and she hated her for that. After the two escaped and Adele went to live with her mother, Sam was still they trying to be her mother. Sam was to overprotective, to clingy. She reminded her of (i him.)
Blinking her eyes the female softly pulled at her collar. Just thinking about that girl was enough to drive Adele mad. Mad with anger and made with the lust. As Adele pick up her cards, she let out a sigh. Chester had somehow manage to make that woman stir up thoughts that ought to have been in the past. She had broken up with Sam. She should’ve moved out, but she didn’t have in money so she stayed with her ex until her bitchy motherly instincts kicked in. If only the blonde had hidden her pills from the brunette, than she wouldn’t be here. Damn it.
“I’m alright at poker.” Adele spoke softly, as she looked at her hands.
She was more than alright, she was the (i best). Or lest that’s what she loved to herself when she was a little girl. As she looked over at them, the girl blushed slightly. How could she tell them about her? Swallowing the hesitation, Adele simply blinked her eyes and smile sweetly. Chester had started the game, and now Adele was going to end it.
“My ex-lesbian lover found my pills. She had this whole motherly complex about her; she was overprotective and to smart for her own good.”
Adele place one card on the table before she went on.
“She was a child prodigy who was smart, attractive, and good at violin, piano, and the harp. She graduated a year early in high school and was offered a full scholarship.” Even though Adele didn’t want to talk about Sam, she found it so easy to describe. That man-eater turned bisexual who had a huge appetite for sex was better left in the past.
It’s funny how the past hates to let go of some people. The brunette had plan to start her internship on Adele’s birthday as a therapist. While Adele’s in group, Sam is sitting down to have a nice chat with Aina, the nurse who check up on Adele everyday.
A frown left Adele’s lips as she felt eyes look at her. Were then judging her for being in a homosexual relationship? She found it funny how people reactd to same-sex relationships. Her mother couldn’t bare to look at her the first time she saw her daughter kiss another girl. It had been after she spent four months in a rehab she was fifteen. The woman was find with her husband fucking her daughter, but when her daughter wanted to be in a healthy relationship with someone else all hell broke loose. The first year was a rough one. Her mother couldn’t stand her, and when that man came home from rehab, he still expect Adele to be his little sex-toy.
No,.. No… and no… She was sixteen when her dad came back from rehab. Since he had cut down on the drinking, he wasn’t as horny-handed as he use to be. However six months after he got out, poker night started up and he and his friends started drinking again. The blonde had learn her lesson, and instead of sticking around the house for poker, she started hanging out with her girlfriend more and more and partying. Of course, her Dad didn’t honestly know he had a bi-sexual daughter till he stumbled drunk into Adele’s room one night and tried to rape her again.
Sam was there and she wasn’t having it. Her ex-lesbian lover pulled a knife on her that man. So instead of being sexually abuse, the man decided he would start hitting on her instead physically. Of course, that only lasted for a few months, before Sam went overboard and exploded. The girl was seventeen and it was a good thing that Adele had bruises on her body.
If the blonde had not been purple and blue, Sam would be in jail right now for attempted murder. Deep down in her heart, the blonde wish that it was (i murder.) However, that man was gone now. And as Adele silently won the first game of poker, she kept that night tucked away in her memories. As far as she was concern, she would never see Sam again. Not ever.
Sadly fate would prove her wrong.
"Still doesn't say why you're here," Rachel noticed. So what if someone found some pills? Her husband'd found empty bottles at each bend but that hadn't been reason for her to go into rehabilitation. It's meaningless to do this shit for anyone else. Why go through the torture on account of another? Addiction's more selfish like that.
Chester however watched as a curious flush painted Adele's face, something of embarrassment he hadn't expected to see in the girl. Why hadn't he expected it? She's human like everyone else. Maybe it's because the things which're actually embarrassing perhaps're spoken without hesitation. So she'd been raped, no big deal, incest, whatever.
An ex, and she's a blubbering mess of emotions suddenly?
It's ex, so there's nothing there anymore, and Chester wondered who'd broken it off. Maybe it's simpler to assume Adele'd been feeling inadequate and'd therefore forsaken a relationship. Lesbian actually made sense. What's to trust in a man?
At least with another woman there's no one to actually stick a dick up yours, so it'd to be a relief somehow.
"Being here's voluntary, you know that right?" Chester said, because it's his job to let people know. That and a few other things, but he's sorely lacking in certain aspects of psychological treatment. A lack of sympathy, though he understood fine.
Elliot raised his hand when Chester cut the cards for another round. "She'll win, it's no use to play," he muttered grudgingly. "I'm out," the man forfeited and dedication or taking losses's something Elliot wasn't good at to start with. It's that aggression which'd gotten him into trouble in the end.
"I go to jail if I don't stay here and finish the programme," Elliot sneered, folding his arms in front of his chest. Rachel stared at her cards with a sigh, "Elliot is right, it's pointless to play like this." She peered up at Adele, "... I just want to be free. Addiction has been controlling me long enough already, there's more to life than that."
There's slight bitterness in her voice, a cynicism cluing away she hadn't found that additional value yet. According to doctors around the world, it ought to be faith.
Bernard's hesitant since he wasn't there for very long. Truthfully, he's just a lost child in Chester's eyes. Needed a good slap on the cheek, or perhaps a fist, and be forced into something more regular. Home's no good for the kid though and so there's nothing to do but create an adult in this facility which'd face the world on his own.
"Don't wanna be on the street," the boy said with a shrug finally, toying with the cards he held in his hands. There's plucking at the edges, hesitant eyes lifting up to Adele, searching. "It must be nice to have someone that cares," he said softly, though knew Adele would probably laugh at him. Probably correct his belief.
They're all selfish like that and it's the only control they'd left in the facility. Bernard'd seen many like that. So many people got their brains plucked at by personnel like Chester they feared letting anyone else get anything right.
Chester ignored their plights and retrieved the cards after a moment's thought. "How 'bout another game then?" The scent of coffee's the only thing sparking some wakefulness to return from the dull daze. No one's perfect. The white coat's no exception. Everyone's teaching Chester to not show fallacy, to forsake showing weakness because these're people looking to them for help and if they failed to look even the smallest bit reliable, where'd that leave their patients?
Life's hopeless though, so there's nothing new there.
Perhaps it's better to be disheartened in the safe confines of the facility than two steps out the door, when you're walking alone for the very first time after a long time of being held by the hands. Still, them talking like that. It's progress.
Adele whispered as she entwined her fingers together. Suddenly she didn’t feel like playing a game of Poker. The scarlet blushed at faded away and she had felt cool down once again. Once more she had composed herself and listens silently to all the others speak. Yes, she never really gave a pure cut and dry answer as to why she was here in the first place. She knew why she was here; no one else did. In all honesty she preferred to keep it that way. Why where people so quick to tell others they business and get into other’s business. Humans were such a judgmental race. Without even knowing the full story, they’re quick to pass sentences on other people. Oh this persons good. This person is bad. She is beautiful. He is ugly. Somewhere deep down in the girl’s heart, she was sicken by this motion. To her when people tried to judge others, there were trying to become God. Who the hell would want to be God anyways? Pursing her lips the female let out a sigh.
She had been here for almost three weeks now. Before she had gotten here, she lived in a mental asylum for a few months. Once she had gotten out, there was no place for her to go. Her mother had come to accept the fact that her only daughter was indeed a lesbian; however that didn’t make it any easier to love her. Sam was finally doing well in college since she didn’t have some girl to baby or worry about. The blonde had gone tiered of partying. The loud music, the alcohol, the drugs, it took a toil on the girl. Rehab was the only place where it was ok for her to go. Leaning forward on her arms the female looked at them. They had all been open with her, with each other. Why couldn’t she tell them why she was here? She was here because just like some of them, it was her finally option. She didn’t have a place to belong. Or rather, she was looking for a place to belong.
“I’m here, to find out where I belong.”
Her voice came out without warning.
Adele's voice's clear, ringing out like that and the confidence of the outcry's enough to bring about insecurity amongst the group, commanding silence. There're different emotions when her ideal's finally vomited up to something audible to all. Elliot's cynical, much like Rachel, though there's something reassuring in Jack and Lisa's stance. Bernard's simply humiliated and Ellen's quiet too, looking away. Scared to admit that there won't ever be a place for them to fit because the world's fucked up that way. It didn't condone people screwing up, thinking outside the box or being different, singing each sentence instead of speaking ordinarily and it's all one giant mess. No one belonged anywhere.
If they'd, it's admitting everyone's a judge, knowing where you belong. It entailed judging those around you, scrutinizing the environment to conclude that; yeah, this's where you belonged. Couldn't be done.
It's a dream which'd break the moment it existed, or more painfully, a few days after. Maybe weeks. How long'd a human delude itself for anyway?
There's nothing to find on the outside and the introspective acknowledgement's a difficult one. It's them who needed to change in order to fit in, or belong. But they're leery of being judged, judging most harshly themselves. Not others maybe, no, but the reflection in the mirror'd no right to existence oftentimes.
It'd been in the razor cuts on his father's chin.
The slight tremble of embarrassment before glancing away.
And it's surviving, judging like that. It's so infallibly human to do, since humanity'd done it since caves and whatnot. Knowing what's a threat's important.
Until a sick society corrupted that ability to interpret a situation and distributed the earnest focus into something vile. Chester toyed with the cards he held, before lazily lifting his gaze, looking at the bedraggled girl. She's no woman yet.
For all she'd been through, Adele's a girl in every meaning of the word.
She'd stopped singing at least, and there's no mirthful smile laced through her words and so Chester's led to believe she's trying then. Really trying to belong for just a moment.
It's a step forward.
There's a thousand and one questions dying on Chester's lips.
(i 'What if you don't belong anywhere? Why here? What if you find there's nothing? Nowhere to belong? What if belonging meant giving in? Giving up something so vital to who you're now, there'll be a different person at the end of it?' )
"That's good," is all that finally escaped from his lungs, because who the fuck's he to question another person's resolve?
It didn't matter what it's, as long's no one's opting out, he wouldn't get fired.
Life turned out to be fairly simple as long as you'd a goal to work towards. His head hurt then, a dull, sluggish throb near the stitches on his temple. Unable to stifle the urge to try and press the ache away, Chester flinched when his fingertip connected to a black wire. It didn't aid his cause.
There're more bruises, so he'd learned afterwards. Sam'd filled him in, that there's some underneath his hair which're obscured from sight and why the fuck hadn't he worn a seatbelt? Instead there's a certain lack of bruises around his chest instead, which's good in his eyes. Rubbing a hand down his neck, Chester tried coming up with another game. Shit'd gotten too serious already.
"How 'bout Go Fish?" Chester suggested for their next game.
It's almost irony that that's the first thing he came up with. Like somehow he's telling Adele that no, there's no such thing as finding your place, so get the fuck out and go fish.
Questions were blazing in the man’s eyes. Even though he didn’t voice them, the female could feel it in her soul that he had many questions for her. She had asked those questions to herself long ago. A myriad of unanswered questions spoke revolved around her mind before she crept into bed and pull the covers over her. At night all the demons came out to try and devour the little girls. Each little monster dripped venom from their fangs making poising her with thoughts of insecurities. What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she had no place to fit in? What if her entire life is pointless? What if she’s nothing more than a whore for her father to use?
Each night when she tossed and turned and gripped those bed sheets tight she was facing her demons. One of the demons-her past-was almost vanquished. She had thought a valiant prince was needed to slay that dragon, but through talking with Chester in private she learn something. She was strong enough to kill it all along; she was just to scare to admit it. Once her courage had been found, once she was strong enough, she was able to move on to more important things. Recovery for instance, was an important one. The next important thing she needed to do was find out what do with her life. All her life, she never truly had been in control. In some shape, form, or fashion someone other than her was always driving her to do something. Now, being twenty-two, she had a chance to be free. However freedom scared the girl. What would she do with it anyways? A sigh broke from her lips.
As Chester spoke up, the female nodded her head. Go fish hun? Those two words had a double meaning to it. “Go fish” was a child’s game. The blonde had played it back in elementary school, before the molestation happen. It was an innocent game, were bets weren’t needed. It was pure.
On the other hand, (i "Go fish" ) meant to broaden your horizon. There are so many places in this word to visit, so many different cultures to experience that it would be madness staying here. There was more than just the streets of New York. You had the beautiful scenery in Scotland. The Japanese had a rich culture as well as England. Italy was home to some of the words most beautiful art work. There was a gazillion thing to explore in India. Spain was sure to have lovely weather. To stay confined in one little city, in one state, in one country, was something the girl couldn’t do. Perhaps she was overcomplicating things. Yet, if one has dreams, one had as a future. Smiling to herself, the girl leaned forward.
“Go fish?” She sung back sweetly to Chester. “I would love to.”
The girl bit her lip softly as she looked at the cards in her hand. It seem as if she sorta, kinda, forgotten how to play the game of Go fish. A nervous chuckle left her lips as she looked at her cards. You ask if one person had the card your looking for right? And if they didn’t, you drew from the deck right? The only question was what type of card were you looking for? As she looked around the deck, the girl let out a sigh. Oh great, she was good at poker, but when it came to Go Fish? A thin smile formed on her lips. Well this was rather awkward.
However she was sure she would be fine. All she had to do was watch. If there was one thing Adele was good at, it was watching how others reacted to the things she did. Plus, If she played long enough, the rules would come back to her eventually.
She lost the first game. A sigh broke from her lips as she shook her head from side to side. In the end no one can be good at (i everything,) Flaws were what made humans human. Besides, Adele preferred the perfectly imperfect people other the perfect people who acted like snobs. The people who acted perfect were just as fucked up as everyone else. They were just held they masks tighter to their faces, trying to maintain the façade that everything’s perfect. Unknowingly building their castle of vanity out of sand, they shock at how easily everything crumbles and is wash away by the ocean called life. Everybody but the vain can see it. Why the hell couldn’t they? She knew why.
Adele knew perfectly why some people pretend than face reality. She had been a part of that crowd. (i “Stuck up little whore.” ) She pretend not to hear them whispering about her. Whenever she came back to school from the mental hospitals, she pretended like nothing happen. She wore long sleeves to hid the cuts, carried a golden smile, and flirted with the football team. She was invited to parties, was hit on by drunken jocks but turned them all down. It was funny to Adele. She never slept around with men. Sure, she partied with them, pop pills, but she never got drunk with them. Even in her darkest moments, she tried to grasp hold of the broken pieces of glass that was her dignity. She refused to be fucked by the popular kids. So how did the boys she turned down retaliate? They called her a slut, a whore. Funny, they never said that to the drunken girls who sold their virginity for popularity. Those girls were the worst. Head held high, ridiculing smiles, cruel voices; they didn’t deserve to be hoisted on high pedestals. It took Adele three years to learn that. The only thing that vain people were, are judgmental hypocrites. Dropping out of school, running away from home, was the best choice she made.
Something wet was coming down Adele’s cheeks. Shocked, the female sniffled as a small finger wiped away the diamond on her cheek. It wasn’t like her to cry. She had thought that that man had beaten all the tears out of her. Clearing her throat, the female looked up at the group and flashed them a cheerful smile. Why was she crying?
“Bad memories.” Adele whispered, “I’m sorry, lets continue, I’m sure to win this time.” A force laughter came out in broken pieces.
The day's a long one, tersely crawling along until his headache's off the scale and his face pinched with pain he'd been unable to suppress. It's late by that time anyway and so Chester grabbed his things, shrugged into his coat to ward of a cold he's Everyone's heard it before; the broken, shattered souls of mankind, and they recognized it easily plenty. Chester's wanting to say something about it, maybe take off the pressure of watching eyes but no one's staring. They'd all been there after all. They all knew tears're a common occurrence, whether warranted or not. It's not like Adele's really sad, no, there's no sadness in the tears just despair and exhaustion. A mental breaking down of a soul and it's harder to watch than a car crash. Flinching like that. Eyes wide shut.
It's all good and so Chester left it, left her hanging there in the silence of averted eyes to play the fucked up cards in sore attempts at winning the game and he's wondering whether Adele'd even see the faces of the cards through what must've been a blurry whole.
Not a word's spoken. Chester's gruff voice asked for another card and the silence's gone then. Rachel confessed colours, pushing a card over and Chester leaned on the table with his elbows, drawing it closer and rearranging his batch a bit more meticulously. Crying's okay. Like sleep, it tended to evade him. Emotions'd in general.
"Are you sure you're not concussed?" Mel'd asked him when they got back home and there's silence then too. He'd been staring off into the distance for some time by then. Thinking. Tired.
They asked him the same question at work. Whether he's okay to work and right then Chester's not so certain. His head ached, which's to be expected and he narrowed his eyes against the sharp fluorescent lights. A slight rubbing of his eyes and Chester took stock of the staff's quarters. There's an old coffee machine ticking away in the corner, groaning and complaining about having to work rather loudly. An older doctor's reading some sort of scripture in one of the comfortable chairs and a nurse's sipping coffee while filling out a crossword on the couch.
Meandering over to the grinding machine, Chester leaned against the counter and sighed, watching despondently as the tar was collected in a glass, weathered receptacle. He'd been feeling off after seeing Adele cry. Like maybe he hadn't expected the girl to've that sort of emotion -especially not in public. Or however public a group session'd get.
She'd been singing, teasing, hiding so much, Chester figured her defences to only let down when she whimsically wanted to, like when she'd told him of her past.
A hand on his shoulder broke the referee. The coffee machine's silent by then.
"You find the machine that interesting?" the older doctor inquired with a sympathetic smile. Catching himself, Chester ran a hand down his face and reached for a cup, pouring himself some of the black liquid since he'd need it to stay a semblance of focussed. An apologetic smile got him away from the counter and down a chair, leaning on the table with his arms.
"What did the doctors say?" doctor Jenkins asked, invading his personal bubble and tipping his head up by the chin. Caught unawares, Chester allowed it.
"'s jus' a knock on the head," Chester defended his presence then. Home'd been boring.
Grimacing in sympathy, Jenkins shrugged and licked his lips, swallowing whatever words're there and Chester's not that attuned to realize what they'd have been otherwise.
"This uhm, Miss China, she ..." the doctor pursed his lips, hand now darting back into the white pockets of the coat he wore, "I heard she has been following your group session lately?"
Chester shrugged. Adele'd been there, but they hadn't really talked. There's progress there though. Some.
"It would be good if she opened up to someone," Jenkins affirmed with a curt smile, before looking up and seeing a nurse waiving him over. A gentle pat on the shoulder and Chester's left alone with the dredges they called coffee around here.
He wanted to follow the old man, tell him Adele'd no reason to stay. She's not addicted because of the desire, or to escape, but more so out of boredom and stopping's probably easy enough plenty, if she'd something to strive for.
So far, nothing's there.
probably imagining and sauntered towards the exit. The rain against the windows's nothing inviting however and with some hesitation, Chester took a detour, deciding that questioning why'd be answered when there's actually a proper reason. Swallowing away some apprehension, Chester knocked on Adele's door, pondering whether to wait and finally pressed down on the door handle. Maybe she's not there. It's possible dinner's already being served but screw that. The bus wouldn't be there for a good other half hour anyway.
Samantha with her cold eyes staring intensely at the doctor as she babbled on about , was a cold but highly intelligent girl. Twenty-four years young she sat staring blankly at the young doctor who had been in charge with checking on Adele. She was a very beautiful young lady, and for a second a flash of jealousy burned in the pit of the young stomach. She missed that young head girl. However, she had a feeling that she would be seeing her soon. Indeed, as the doctor looked back at the young woman, she flashed her a small grin. It was only for college that the young girl was here. At school they offered a (i hand’s on) experience. She was going to be an assistant to some male name Chester. Chest Alten was what the nurse had told her his name was. Flicking brown hair, then female adjusted her glasses as her fingers entwined and untwined together. Deep inside of her she had a burning desire to check on the blonde. It felt like a life time ago, the last she saw (i her.) The blonde was a whimsical, controlling, and a spoil little bitch. Okay, that was harshly put.
“Adele.” Sam whispered her name as if it was as fragile as china.
Her last name suited her personality, Sam noted mentally. As the nurse nodded looked at the female, she nodded her head.
“You know her?” The doctor asked.
“Yes ma’am. I’m the one who referred her to this place… We were roommates. I’ve been worried about her.” Sam whispered, softly.
Of course she wasn’t going to blurt out the content of their relationship which center mostly around sex, drugs and partying. Somehow, the brunette was never truly affected by alcohol. Even though she would get drunk, she’d never let that deter. Hung-over, throwing up, she’d still get up and go to school. Her teacher’s loved her. So she got away with more stuff…. Or rather, they loved her (i body.) A chill crawled down her spine as she remember the first teacher she fucked. Composing herself instantly the female cleared her throat as the nurse spoke to her. (i “I’ve been worried about her to.. Would you mind talking with her for me? So far, she only opened up to Chester..”)
Disbelief is flashes across the brunette as she hears that. No. Its not impossible. Since the first time the brunette laid eyes on the blonde, she had never known her to open up to anyone, let alone a male. That girl was a walking pile of confusion. Her eyes mirror that of a beaten puppy, whimper and moaning for help. Yet her actions made her out to be a regular slutty girl who partied a lot. Adele was a teaser, she’d even tease Sam from time to time. But more than anything else, she was a runner. Never once did she confront anything face to face. Whenever things turned sour, she’d walk out on things. The only time Sam didn’t see the girl run away was when she was winning a poker game. Other than that she always ran away from her problems. Period. Chester was good if he could make her open up. A slight eyebrow raised as the female leaned forward on her fingertips.
“Yes. Lead me to her room.”
“Sam?!” Adele asked.
The blonde had been crying almost a half-hour ago. As the two looked at each other there was a moment of awkwardness. They had once been a couple, before Adele slipped back into her drugged addiction of pills. Sam had gotten tiered of the partying, she became a school addict. Fingers ran through brunette hair, and as the nurse left the two alone, the blued eye female shook her head from side to side. The other just stood there waiting silently for the other girl to say something. In a few days she would be twenty-three. It was time she grew up, and dropped the childish act. Curled up in the bar, the blue eyed girl turned her head away from the female and looked out towards the window. If she tried, the female could’ve figure out what Adele was thinking off.
Without warning, the blonde sprang out of bed and wrapped turned to engulf the female in a hug. Stun, the brunette slowly wrapped her arms around the female as she buried her face inside her neck. (i “I got a secret, can you keep it? Swear this one you’ll save. Better lock it, in your pocket it, taking this one to the grave.”) Singing, Adele steps back and smiled.
“You’re running away.” Sam stated.
Blue eyes glance sharply at the female, and Adele only offered a slightly shrugged. To her it didn’t matter if she ran away or not.
Instantly, the brunette had grabbed a hold of the blonde’s hand. A playful look flicker across the face of Adele but Sam was not amused. Behind those glasses a black fury blazed. It was typical of the girl, being a coward and running away. Immature, selfish, bitchy, no one ever liked Adele. (i “You’re not running away, again.”) Sam spoke.
“Are you going to stop me?” Adele sung, as she looked into those dark eyes.
Before she could reply, the blonde pressed her lips quickly against hers. For a moment, the brunette sputtered. Recoiling, she was to late to catch the wild female as she slipped away and made her escape from the prison that had been known as rehab. A curse flew from her lips. Sitting down on the bed that belongs to Adele, she brought to fingers forth to massage her temples. That girl was a handful. Sighing softly, the female laid back on the bed.
Knocking sounded on the door and instantly Sam was up. She had accidently fallen asleep. Damn. Yawning the brunette reach for the door and open up to see a rather handsome young men standing before her. Cocking her head back, the female looked at behind her glasses. To her, he had boyish features, he was to young for her taste. Than again, the she lost her virgin at thirteen to a man who had been twenty. Not to mention that she fucked a twenty-five year old her freshman year of high school. She was addicted to oldermen. However it was fad that was growing old now. As the girl locked eyes with the male sigh parted from her lips.
“Chester Alten?” She asked. “I’m Samantha Parker.” She whispered as she step back and showed Chester the empty room.
“It seems as if our little Adele has gown Awol, what shall we do with her?” She ask softly as her eyes flicker toward Chester.
What was so special about him? Why would Adele be open with him, but not her. For a second jealous threaten to rise up, but she push that feeling down. There was no reason to be envious, there were bigger things to worry about.
(i Being here's voluntary, you know that right?)
Chester’s words still rang in Adele’s ears as sat in the car seat. Her friend, Parker, had picked her up from the mental ward, and now he was going to fetch her a pack of cigs. It seemed as if she had gone to long without smoking, the last time she smoked was when Chester had handed her his burnt out one. As the dark hair male came out of the gas station handing her a pack of cigarettes he let out a sigh, as he leaned back in his car. Lighting up one, the blonde smile. Nicotine wasn’t as good as pills, but it was start. Tonight was a good night to party. It felt good outside.
The rehab center was on the outside of the city. The blonde was sure to find some good parties sooner or later. As Parker looked at her, he smiled softly.
“How was rehab?” He asked. “Meet any cute guys?”
“It was completely boring.” Adele reply, exhaling the cigarette smoke. “I did meet one guy though, however you wouldn’t be interested in him.”
“How do you know the guys I like?” The male joked, as he back out of the parking lot and began driving. Rolling down the window, the female smile as the November wind whipped her hair around. As the two drove in search of dinner Adele began to sing softly to herself. She didn’t have any doubt that Sam was telling Chester all about how she escaped. She probably even know where she was. As Adele sighed she rustle her fingers through her hair.
“He’s…..not your type.” She said simply.
Deep down, a part of her was hoping that maybe he would come after her with Sam. It would be nice to see him acting without the constraints that comes with working a job dealing with insane people. Chester and Sam, they’d make a lovely couple. The blonde thought.
He'd been expecting something else. Anything other than the woman standing before him now, scrutinizing, cocky, though tired and maybe there's some regret there. She's like Adele, stronger in some ways, weaker in others and different despite al of that. There's the sensation of dread upon reading the masked emotions shimmying across flaccid features and Chester's repulsed by her for some reason. Like she's this fat lady, shaking lard around in too tight clothes, and morbidly engrossed, he'd trouble taking his eyes off.
A car crash in motion. The memory's a sharp sting at his temple and Chester narrowed his eyes, "What're you doing here?"
She'd assumed too much, too swiftly. There's still the option of saying he's fuck all that, anything but Chester Alten, but it'd be too late and fuck him -the woman, Sam Parker, evidently worked here. The lie wouldn't stretch very far.
Didn't know that many Sam's. His sister shared the woman's name and it dawned on Chester. Adele's tears, her disclosure of being enticed by the opposite sex and yeah, this's exactly the sort she'd go for, wasn't it?
That in itself's a disappointment.
"You're 'that' Sam," Chester stated. It's not even a question.
The question Samantha's asking's wrong in several ways and he rubbed at his forehead, flinching as carelessness brushed passed a stitch. It's wrong in the way that she's not asking how to get Adele back here, or how to find her -no, just 'what're we gonna do with her', and Chester imagined the with there to be a to.
'What should we do to her?'
Had Adele left because of this woman? Because of her return? Still the tears didn't appear to be over a love lost. Even if Sam appeared to've it together marginally, Chester knew differently. If they'd done only a smidgen of background research, Sam'd be kicked from working at the facility, that much Chester knew.
Running a hand through his hair, Chester deflated. It's Adele's choice to leave. What's he going to do about that?
"I don't even know where the fuck she's," Chester drawled, impatient to get something to relieve his headache. Obviously, they didn't have any stray medication around the facility to avoid their patient's temptation.
"... if I did, I don't 've a car," he confessed, slightly embarrassed for crashing it in a drowsy moment of self-centeredness. Sleep's like that oftentimes. "'m guessing you know though," Chester challenged, his azure eyes sharp.
"She leave because of you?" he asked quietly, measured words filling the air. It's awkward, the way he's standing, controlled, too controlled. No one'd said he wasn't a hothead sometimes. It'd only take someone pressuring the proper points too often for him to explode in a ball of angry rage.
Wetting his lips, Chester took in a deep breath, feeling the phone in his pocket vibrate. Plucking it out, his eyes scanned the caller's name: 'Mel', his little sister. She'd no doubt want to know when he's going home, whether he wanted a lift because she didn't like her older brother riding that stupid bus while still 'injured'. Chester'd reasoned that's not the case, but Melanie hadn't wanted to listen to a single word he'd uttered to defend his case.
"Yeah," Chester answered the call, walking into Adele's room, staring from the window. Outside's still dreary. What'd she be like outside?
Maybe she'd be alone, riding that same fucking bus out of here.
Or she'd be in company, a friend, of which she'd plenty, undoubtedly, result of partying too hard, of being vulnerable and open to others like that.
"Hey, when will you be done working?" Mel's voice called out through the tin can Chester dubbed phone.
"'m done," he replied casually, fiddling around for a cigarette, "'s just on my way back, 's jus'..."
"Just what?" There's worry there then.
Chester let his gaze travel around his feet, taking in the polished linoleum floor. There's streaks from scraping chairs and other agony he didn't care to imagine. There's Sam, standing in the room.
"I'll be back late, 'm going out," Chester said and it's decided then, that he'd follow -for now. Maybe, even if it's just to see what she's like outside. At least, Chester told himself that's the only reason. A follow-up on being treated at the facility. It's a lie, and an obvious one at that but he failed to care.
"Okay, be careful, okay?" Mel replied and there's hesitation in her voice then. A moment's silence preceded the dial tone of the phone and Chester lowered his phone.
"Let's go," he told Sam, gesturing towards the door.
There’s darkness to the chuckle that came flowing out of the female’s laugh. For some odd reason she found the male’s comment funny. (i “You’re that Sam?”) It was if the male knew her, however she couldn’t imagine the blonde talking about her. The last time she slept with her, the blonde was a delicate introvert who kept all of her problems bubbled up inside her. No emotion flickers across that face, unless she was getting high off pills or experiencing pleasure of another kind. Shifting the weight on her feet she finished her laughing and nodded her head. Yes, she was indeed that Sam. She was perfect model who tried to hide her flaws.
As the male spoke on, the girl closed her blinked. The male was a grown adult and didn’t have a car? Instantly those brown eyes began to flicker all around him, looking him up and down. Stitches were on his forehead, so guessing by that. She blinked once more. Scrutiny was a terrible habit. It came from her father, looking at other people and guessing what was wrong with them and how that flaw happen. Her father was like that to her. He played at being god; those stern chocolate eyes always picking apart and criticizing the girl whenever she made less than perfect. Cold like snow falling in a Russian winter, his eyes never once showed her any compassion. Blinking that thought away the girl simply shrugged her shoulders. Adele? Running away because of someone? A hand was needed to stifle her giggling. The jealous that threaten to eat away at her turned into pure mocking. It seemed as if this men didn’t know the blonde as well as the brunette did. That girl didn’t give to shits about anyone or anything but herself. She was selfish straight down to the very core.
“Hardly, Adele never once got emotionally attach to me. It was purely psychical for that girl.” Sam’s voice trailed off as she turned away.
In all honestly, she didn’t want to admit that to herself. Being unloved and used just for sex. That was something no girl wanted, even if the person using you was just a girl after all. Blinking slightly, the female watched as the male took out his phone. Who was he talking to? Stepping back the girl laced her fingers together as she sat on back down on the bed. Now that the male wasn’t talking to her, she actually had time to think. Even though Adele had thought Sam knew everything about her, she didn’t. She was as big an enigma as anyone else. As Chester talked on his phone, the female place two fingers to her temples and hummed. (i Parker…) She murmured to herself.
“Parker” The female blurted out.
A quick hand covered her mouth as she shook her head from side to side. She knew without a doubt now that Adele would probably be with Peter. He was the first male the female met where she actually felt safe around him. Than again, the fact that he was gay as well also helped matters. Standing at the door the brunette smiled to herself.
Once he male was done talking on the phone the female smiled at him. As the male spoke she nodded her head and walk out the door. In truth, Sam hadn’t thought about having anyone ride in the car with her. Her car was a mess, school books and papers laid disorganized. Two laptops laid in her backseat. Just thinking about the mess made her shiver. Normally she was a clean person, something about being being disorganized just didn’t appeal to her at all. Yet, that was what she was. Disorganized. A groan broke from her lips as she turned on her heels and face towards the male. (i “Being a senior in college is a bitch.. So don’t freak out when you see my car, Kay?”)
What a minute. Why did she care what he thought about her? A sigh broke from her lips as she comb her fingers through her hair. Judging from the stitches on his head, and the way he said he didn’t have a car. A sigh broke from her lips, she was doing it again. Judging people whom she didn’t have a right to do so was her greatest flaw. Perhaps she did cause Adele to run away from her? Blinking that thought away the female looked at the male.
(i “That came out wrong….. Anyways, I think I know where we can find Adele, she’s probably with Parker..”) She spoke. (i “They’re probably going to his house.. Its in the city, close to where all the clubs are.”) Chester probably already knew.
When the pills started popping, the silly girl turned even more nonsensical. Dancing to her own tunes, grabbing different people and grinding her hips all up on them, it wasn’t like her. Her words became more brash, her actions more brutal. Seeing her high could be a scary sometimes. Hopefully the blonde wasn’t in the mood to party tonight.
However she doubt that the girl would want to be stay copped up all night long after spending time her. Even though Parker was a classy guy, he still enjoy dancing to techno music. His drugs were music and LSD, dangerous stuff to couple together. (i damnit.) Why the hell does that girl have to be so damn selfish?
It's confidentiality which kept Chester from saying Adele cared, at least on some level, else she'd have not cried at the group session and though he's convinced Adele's not entirely aware of her emotions, they're there at least. Something Chester figured Sam'd know, but then again, maybe time'd passed over and over, leaving shit to rot away and fester like that. People changed all the time, it's the nature of life and while fickle, annoying at times, it's good to change sometimes. Not that Adele'd changed too much.
Her running's testament to that.
Maybe it's guilt making Chester chase the woman because they're his words which'd led to the thought of Adele China leaving the facility, casual words making her question on some level why she's here. At the very least one'd to ponder the shit he'd said about her being here voluntarily. Maybe this Sam hadn't brought Adele's admission that subtly.
It's in Sam's voice, the dejection, the fear of getting hurt because of unreciprocated love and while that's sad, Chester failed to care. He knew that the way Adele'd been, taking pills and cutting herself like that, there couldn't actually be any true affection that's birthed by love. Maybe dependency, but nothing else.
That didn't mean he'd any ideas himself. No. Rather than any misguided emotions, it's curiosity and responsibility giving purchase to their chase. So maybe Sam's wrong about the emotional attachment, but she's right about there not being any love. It could've been anyone saying the same shit to Adele, anyone who'd be nice, or casual, or like him. Sam and him'd more in common than they both wanted to, probably.
"Who the fuck's Parker," Chester breathed, but didn't expect a reply, the words spoken softly, just under his breath, as if he really didn't care to find out. And he didn't. Just another factor to complicate the already thickening confusion surrounding the whimsically singing Adele China. The last name suited her in such a way, it's hard to think of Adele without it.
China. Brittle, fragile, intricate and layered, but cold, so cold to the touch.
Something he'd break instantly when pressuring just the right points and Chester'd a knack for finding those.
"You're forgiven?" Chester posed, a question this time, a raised eyebrow conveying he's not overly intimidated by any state of disarray anyone could plunge their car in. If Sam saw his, she'd probably have a laugh at his expense and feel better for hers. A mess's fine, long as everything worked properly, something his car didn't.
The dents'd been at the front, motor wrecked and smoking.
With sight to a lingering concussion -something Chester chose to ignore, if there'd have been one and he'd forgotten what the doctor'd said about that anyway- it's probably best he didn't drive for the coming few weeks anyway. Things like those're fickle.
Felt like someone'd shaken his personality around.
So Parker'd a house in the city, close to the clubs and warmth of entertainment Adele craved so much. Not surprising, really. In fact, the facility wasn't even warranted to give chase to their patient because it wasn't the one where they locked up people. That's only if they'd undergone an offence and while Chester's sure Adele'd tried killing herself, she didn't strike him as a danger to others as much. Suicide'd been dealt with at the other facility -supposedly.
Freak's only mentioned in the same sentence as Chester when it was mentioning his flaccid attitude towards life in general. Most always, it's quickly followed by a few punches to the offender's face.
Chester clenched his fist and let out a sigh, hoisting strap of the bag slung across one shoulder a bit higher and followed Sam outside, waving at the woman at the desk before hunching in on himself some. He'd some length on Sam -on most women- and it's not that he tried making himself smaller, just that it's cold as compared the inside the facility and the jacket he's wearing didn't offer any protection at all.
It's fine though.
Brisk. If he'd have liked that sort of thing.
"Dya have his number?" Chester asked casually as they stood by the car. A swift glance inside mapped out the many items littering the interior and frankly, it's a surprise nothing'd been stolen yet from the car since it appeared Sam'd been making house in the vehicle. When the door unlocked, Chester slid into the passenger seat, despondently tugging whatever paper and rubbish's there from underneath his ass and tossed it out the open car door without regard for cleanliness.
"I don't think Adele'd wanna see you," he said finally, narrowing his eyes at Sam. There's something going on between the two females which left Chester slightly confused. It's up there whether it's good or bad, but the insecurity made him apprehensive about getting them together. Something about being seen with Sam'd possibly make Adele reject seeing him too. Like that.
A sigh broke from her lips as she combed her fingers through her hair. She hardly knew the male, but she had the feeling that he had a habit of being honest and speaking his thoughts. Regardless of how cold of hurtful it might seem, he wasn’t the type of guy to pull any punches. A hum came from her lips as she looked at the man behind her glasses. He was rather handsome, despite the fact the fact that there was a scar on his head from being a car wreck no doubt. If the girl was younger, fifteen or fourteen, she would’ve tried sleeping with him. Swallowing that thought down the girl turned away from the male and look straight ahead. Chester was smart, but he wasn’t that smart. Before she started the engine she let out a sigh. In the men could never understand woman.
“You’re right; she doesn’t want to see me. She wants to see you.”
She grimaced as she admits that part aloud. Fate was cruel, cunning and devious. When one thought they understood it, it reared around and presented another side to itself. As the female back the car out of the parking spot she began to drive. The house wasn’t to awfully far away and as she drove to it, a sigh broke from her lips. Just who the hell was this Chester guy? Why did Adele find it so appealing to tease him? She never saw him outside of the of the work place, and he never saw her outside of the rehab center either. Twenty-two years young almost twenty-three, it was time the female grew up. Scoffing the female shook her head. (i Growing up is something that’s impossible for that girl.) She muttered those words softly as she sharply turned a corner.
“Chester, what did you think about Adele?” She asked aloud not taking her hands eyes off the road. It was question that had been eating at her since she first met him. Her inquisitive eyes that normally picked people apart was something the girl didn’t want to use on Chester. Yet as she looked on head, she spoke up again. “I.” She closed her mouth suddenly. Her phone was ringing. A groan left her lips as she chose to ignore it. Whoever was calling had pretty fucking bad timing. That or they were trying to be an asshole. Either way the female wasn’t answering it.
A pout form on the lips of the blonde as she turned around sat outside. Inside a house party was going on, music was sounding pulsating through the house. Stream of people were coming in and out dancing and the blonde was thrilled. After what seemed a lifetime of being sober, the girl was back on pills and it made her crazier than what she normally was. Biting her lips, the female place her phone in her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She had a feeling that Chester and Sam were on they were. She couldn’t wait to see Chester’s expression when he saw how she was dressed. A black jacket clung to her body. She had on a tank top that cut off a few inches below her chest showing her stomach. Small shorts showed off to much thigh. As she lit the cigarette and smoke, her blue eyes looked around. The city was rather beautiful at night. As the sun set she could see the lights dazzling and bright. Different clubs had different neon sighs to attract people.
In the distance she could hear loud music from other clubs being playing in the far off distance. Inhaling the cigarette smoke she exhale the grey wisps into the wind. Soon, soon, the two would be here. As she redialed the number again she leaned against the wall. It was great having old friends. Espically when they had the type of pills that got you alter your mood. Once more Sam didn’t answer her phone. A pout formed on her lips. As a male came out of the house and eye her, the female let turned around. He was handsome, but preferred women. As he walked towards her she rolled her eyes. Lifting up a hand she leaned forward and smiled.
(i “Fuck off please, I’m not interested in pigs.”)
A giggled followed those words and as she a curl with one finger the male was slightly offended. Muttering under his breath he soon walked off. The blonde chuckled to herself, even though there was nothing funny. Taking a drag from the cigarette the female sighed. She wanted the male to hurry her, so that she could have fun teasing him.
(i “Sam’s always been a good little doggie.”) Adele whispered assuring herself that the two would show. The brunette knew where Parker’s house was. Over the summer she had been a party junkie. Despite how innocent and professor she might seen, she was more of a slut. Adele only sleep with (s two) one person. How many guys did that girl fucked whenever she thought that no one was looking? It was amusing to the blonde how Sam would always come back, tail wagging, looking for sex when older men didn’t take her high enough. Knowing her, She’d probably want to fuck Chester if he was ten years older. That childish giggle grew into a cruel laugh.
The question's unexpected. (i 'What did you think about Adele?')
Chester's left craving a cigarette, stifling the need to rifle through the glove compartment in front of him in search of something. Not sure what. Anything to divert attention to the building tension creating this heavy air which's hard to breathe. Slouching back some in the chair, Chester's azure eyes stared ahead, watched the droplets of rain hit the windshield, though there's not much. Wind'd picked up though.
Why'd she gone outside, where everything's dead already?
Maybe it's curiosity. Adele's curious that way, though not cute at all. Neither's this Sam, but Chester figured that's why the two'd suited one another perfectly. Not any longer. So what'd changed about Adele? The woman'd been right though, once Chester'd brought to light that Sam's the only reason Adele's staying at the rehab, she'd plain left.
Technically, there's no reason to give chase, considering his job ended some few steps out the door of the facility, perhaps just up until the fences. Maybe.
They hadn't finished talking though, Adele and him.
It'd all been left bitterly and without explanation. Adele'd been hurt and Chester wanted to take that away, for some reason, not that he's naive enough to believe that'd rescue the whimsical woman. A quick death, perhaps suicide, that's how people like her ended usually. So sensitive to the world, twisting and bending any way conceivable just to dodge the pain of living without much success. Drugs worked, but not long.
"' think she's hurt," Chester mentioned finally, keeping an eye out as to where they went. If he'd lost Sam in the catfight that'd ensue, or was perhaps stifled out of a guilty sense for being hypocrite, he'd have no ride back home. Calling his little sister's not something he wanted to do. Mel'd question Parker's place -with due right.
That's what. Needlessly complicated.
"'s pick it up," he suggested as to the phone, leaning one elbow against the car's door, legs stretched out, unable to get the full length of them in the cramped car seat. Whoever'd been in the passenger's side before's a good deal smaller but Chester didn't feel like adjusting the seat. That'd imply he's there to stay, and he wasn't about to get cosy with knowing Sam.
She's a manipulative bitch, whereas Adele's much the same, but at least she wasn't trying to hide shit. Not from him anyway.
Not the tears. Not the shit which'd gone down.
When the car finally pulled to a stop, Chester languidly folded out of his seat, hands holding the door before nudging it shut. He's no stranger to parties, seen it all, been there before. No stranger to alcohol, drugs or the pills, but he's got two little sister to take care of, and a younger brother who looked up at him despite of how fucked up Chester's really.
He'd been trying lately, to get some steady factors into his life.
The job's testament to those efforts.
Searching around his pockets for some cigarettes, Chester gathered he's underdressed for shit like this. There's the plain sweater, a tepid blue, and rugged jeans on top of some black boots. Not that Chester expected to stay as long's to take off his coat, which's a black garment covering his bony frame. The messenger bag's nearly empty, safe for a few stray items like gum, a book and the sorts. He'd been reading on the bus.
Shit like petty cash's housed in his pockets, but they weren't allowed to bring phones onto the floor, so Chester ditched the contents of his coat and pockets into the bag usually.
Finally having some luck, Chester deposited the cigarette between his lips and lit it, hands casually cupped around the small flame.
"Right," he hissed out the smoke, "we need an invite for this shit?" Chester asked Sam, glancing over shortly to gather her reaction.
He'd expected Parker, yeah, but not a party. Either's fine, even though Chester's fairly certain they wouldn't find Adele in any state of sober. Shame. She'd been doing well, but like Chester'd mentioned before, it's all meaningless if the reasons're not the proper ones.
Textbook example right there.
"You wanna come?" Chester offered, taking slow strides towards the front door of the house, fully intending to simply blend in and have a look. No one's likely to notice him with a crowd like that anyway.
Sam couldn’t disagree with the male on that. Physical, mental, and emotions scars marred the whimsical girl. Despite the façade of being unhinged by the cruelties of the world, that girl could only withstand so much before she crumbled to pieces. How much long would it be before she broke down? Pursing her lips together the male wanted to said something back to the male but the ride was up. Parker’s house was insight and the sound of pulsating music came streaming from the house. A groan came from the female as she slapped a hand to her forehead. She had forgotten the house parties that Adele loved. House parties meant more drugs. Before she had a time to reply, her phone went off and Chester looked to her. Sighing, the female picked up the phone.
The giggling sound came out on the other end was definitely Adele’s voice. Yet something was off. She sounded almost too happy. Without hesitation, Sam let out a sigh. Pills, the blonde had fallen back into her addiction of pills. She knew that the blonde couldn’t keep sober. The party life was to addicting for her. The highs that came with thrill of partying was to much to keep her away. No amount of time away from the party scene could deter her from picking back up hold habits and reentering the world of filled with demons and devils.
“Is Chester there?”
“No… He’s going inside…”
As a matter of fact, Sam had barely heard Chester as he ask if they needed and invitation to get inside. House parties thrown by Parker were open to the public and were B.Y.O.B and B.Y.O.D. That was a bad combination. Sighing over the phone the female parked her car and opened her car door. She hadn’t plan in partaken in the debauchery of others. She was a college student pretending to be a saint. The summer before her senior year, she had promise herself that she would expel all of her demons from the past over that brief moment in time. However with Adele being a pain in the ass; the “saint” would need a drink to help her through the night.
“Thanks sweetie!” Adele sung into the phone before she hung up.
Running fingers through the female started to follow the path Chester had walk earlier. She remember how many of these people would remember her face. (i Bi-sexual.) (i Talented.) (i Sam.) It wasn’t often that one meets a girl like her,
A squeal broke from Adele’s lips as she twirled around on her feet. He was here. Now the male was able to play her game on (i her) turf. Hopefully without the restrictions placed on him in the work place, the female could have fun teasing him. As she finished off the cigarette the female turned and look back at the house. It was a pretty big house. A lot of people were in the place. The lights were dim and strobe lights were flashing. A giggle formed on the female lips. She had a feeling that she would run into him tonight. Smiling to herself, the female step into the house. Different people were dancing to the pulsating sound of music. A new type of music had gotten popular in the last few years which was named (i dubstep.) Truthfully, Adele didn’t mind per say but still.
As people dance and grind on each other, a small smile formed on her lips. There were so many attractive people. For a second, the female was tempted to just find a girl and dance with her but that would have to wait. See had a feeling that the man she was looking for wasn’t one to stick out in the crowd. Once more the girl let out a giggle as she sighed. Why should she chase after him? If he had chosen to step inside this party, than perhaps he would chose to find her? It was a question that only Chester had an answer to. As the music played from the speakers the female began to dance. The last few days had been stressful. Dancing was good for her.
The party's spilling from inside to out, people straying into the yard of the house and Chester casually sauntered on inside, found the door blocked by groups of people chatting, draped off of one another, inebriated no doubt and there's the scent of smoke stifling the alcohol and whatever else bodily odours. Inside's cramped, dancing people bustling against moving ones and fuck him, why'd he go to this place again? There's people eyeing him, since Chester's evidently new to the game and not entirely ugly so there's interest some. Before long a girl clung to him, leaning close, second drink in hand and it's not entirely obvious who that's for until Chester felt it pressed into his slack hand.
Taking the drink so's better to blend in and fuck it, he'd have fun some too, right? No need to pretend being righteous, since he's not. Only truly sober at work, most of the time, since insomnia's a bitch he refused to medicate but altered his mind better than any substance'd.
Whatever the girl's trying to say it's lost in the thumping music pulsating through both their bodies and Chester put the hand holding the cigarette out to steady the whimsical female from falling. She'd to stand on tiptoes just to scale the difference in height between them.
Maybe she's asking for his name.
There's a smile, a simple tugging, and Chester's contemplating it but finally just leaned down to say he's looking for someone, and maybe he'd catch her later. It's not polite, but the girl didn't seem to mind, a flock of lady-friends giggling as his eyes strayed their way. Evening success at the cost of a single drink.
It's all so simple. Chester'd heard many a good story from his tenants back at the facility already. No need to create his own, really. Rather, it's sad.
Dancing, sure, but there're people on stray couches and chairs, limp with substance and Chester lifted his own drink to his lips, grimacing. Not the beer he'd been hoping for. The drink's sweet, overly so, and with a furrowed brow, Chester stared into the plastic cup, unsure whether the overdose of sweet's to mask some other shit. Shrugging it off as substitute painkiller for his throbbing head since the music and it didn't agree, Chester wormed his way through outside. There's air then, and he finished his cigarette, trying to see if he'd spot Adele.
Of course not. Being whimsical, manic almost, Adele'd find her pleasure with other people, no doubt teasingly writhing up some poor sod who she'd refuse to've sex with, until there'd be a sod not quite content with that reply.
Chester wondered how often Adele'd been raped. She'd no doubt gotten into fights and trouble with clashing male honours and such before. There's little this party left to the imagination.
It's disturbing since Sam fit right in. Chester'd left her, now curious to see both females. They'd dance together, maybe. Sam and Adele. Get back together, fuck, dance, drugged through life and everything's fine that way, wasn't it? Just that, Adele'd tried suicide as a resolution for coming down and Sam'd probably stopped that by forcing the darting girl to admit to the clinic.
Manic, and depression.
Finishing the drink made his throat burn in his chest and Chester left the cup on the banister of the porch, filtering back inside but this time with free hands and followed the walls to try and get an overview of the dancing throng of people meshing together in flashing colours and freed from all inhibition. It's then he spotted the sluttish do-up that's Adele and Chester let out a laugh. It's like a child playing with her parent's makeup, dressing up in clothes so ill-fitting, it's only comical. There's no stopping her, or dragging Adele away from this, that much's clear and Chester wouldn't even bother trying.
The drink made him feel warm inside. Warmer than before, when in Sam's car and warmer even than being in the facility, staring outside at the dreary weather. Loosening his coat Chester made sure he'd his valuables on him and ditched his shit in what appeared a semi-organised wardrobe designated room. Even that's amusing.
Might as well get comfortable and before he'd made his way towards the dancing woman, there's another drink being pushed on him. It's all good. It's fine.
Why not have fun?
It's a waiting game anyway. For the party to be over, for Adele to come down, and then there'd better be something in place to catch her before the mental patient fell all the way down the pavement and beyond. There'd been other patients before that'd left the facility prematurely but Chester hadn't cared for how they fared. Maybe it's Adele's vulnerability which made her interesting and Chester's fairly certain Adele's firmly aware and not afraid to abuse that. Why'd he be different?
Just another toy for her to fuck -no, mess with. Fucking's probably not on her wish list intentionally.
He had found her. Those oceanic blue eyes stared back at his with mischief running through them. Those pills had altered her mood, fear and hesitation were slowly slipping away. Inch by inch the female dance her way towards the male. Ignoring the eyes that stared at her with desire; she had eyes only for one male in the whole house. Strange. She didn’t know what she wanted to do with Chester, tease him? No. As she helped closed the distance between the two the young female smiled. He smelted like cigarettes and alcohol. Believe it or not, Adele wasn’t one for drinking. She gotten drunk once and hated it. Pills were her high, but somewhere deep down inside, sobriety was begging the young girl to do away with the drugs. She ignored that voice though. Life without sobriety was just to appealing.
Taking in the male the female smiled to herself. She had wonder to herself what he was like, without having to worry about the obligation that came from his job. Here, for one moment in time, the two were free of their roles. Adele wasn’t a “patient.” Chester wasn’t whatever the fuck he was at work. They were just two people suspended in time. For once, the blonde didn’t want to play the game of being manipulative. Trying desperately to hold on to everything had exhausted her. The burden was becoming to heavy to carry, and now…
(i “I don’t want to try holding on anymore..”)
Her voice was lost the pulsation of music. Without any concern for what the repercussions would be, the girl let out a warm smile and slowly took hold of the male’s hand. Turning around she wrapped his arms around her stomach and starting grinding her against him to the music. Why did Chester have this affect on her? Her (i 'father ') had shatter all trust she had in men. Abused and molested had broken her heart into pieces. Not even Sam could pick them all up. There was still an empty void inside of her. Drugs couldn’t fill that void. For the longest time she had been searching for what could mend the damage her father had done to her. So why now, after trying everything to fill the emptiness, was she hoping that Chester could fill her
As much as Chester'd seen her, Adele'd seen him and then there's tugging, wild giggling, pulling, goading, coaxing him through the throng of people until they're both at the centre of it all, surrounded by writhing bodies and pretty faces glistening in the flashing lights dancing on the throb of the beat. It's not new, not entirely and Chester partially wanted it's, simply for being able to say he's cutely naive, but he isn't. Adele's body's flush against his and Chester wouldn't be a man if he told anyone it didn't do anything for him. On the contrary, she's nice, showing off enough for his imagination to fill in the blanks and fuck.
When'd he gone from patient to interest?
Hadn't it always been interest to begin with though?
It hadn't gone to wanting to see what Adele's legs'd look like slathered in liquid however, how her eyes'd shimmer with fear, because Chester knew it'd be that. There's no way someone's damaged as Adele'd find pleasure from fucking someone. The thought's enough to turn him off, but that's okay, he's not here for behaving like a shitty guy, like the ones who'd fucked her over before. He's a lot, but no asshole.
Dipping his face down to the blonde tresses, Chester'd smell the perfume she'd used -vastly different from the shit they provided at the facility and it's alluring, different. They're different, like this. It's like they'd never met, like he hadn't seen Adele cry that day. Like Sam's gone from the Earth and'd never suggested Adele'd get her act cleaned up.
But the other female's around somewhere.
Chester's azure eyes glanced ahead, catching sight of the woman, searching. She's searching and Adele's fucking grinding him, teasing, stringing him along.
"Sam's 'ere," Chester whispered into her ear, the low dulcet tones barely breathing above the loud music, though it'd be easy enough for Adele to follow his gaze. She probably already knew. About Sam being there.
Sam'd probably helped her, even, though Chester's unsure how sincere he'd peg Sam for. More so than Adele, Chester found Sam volatile and hard to read. The casual arms around Adele's stomach hadn't done anything yet, hands still free, safe for the drink he held in one and Chester released Adele partially to empty the cup. Free hands're better.
There's questions beckoning; why she'd run, why here? Why drugs again? But asking them now'd assure the mood'd be ruined and for some reason, having Adele in this state'd prove more interesting than a sober one.
It's sad too though. Just a little.
He's not drunk enough to forget. Not drunk at all, frankly.
Instead his hands guided Adele's wriggling body in their sick dance, not once meeting her eyes. She'd wanted him there, to do -what exactly? Change? It'd be a hollow laughter if that's the intent.
Death's probably the only change which'd stick.
"You got a place to stay -after?" Chester asked, their cheeks nearly touching. It's all near. Like a cat, Adele China's like a cat that wanted affection but loathed the scent humans left on her pelt. It's concern more so than a pickup line. Either way his place's kind of weird, what with his little sisters living in but screw that.
She never expected to enjoy his hands company. She never expected that she’d be grinding against him. Yet as she kept on dancing with him, she didn’t know what to do now. Keep on being a tease and toy with Chester? Ah it didn’t matter to her. Speaking Sam’s name made the blonde wrinkle her nose. She didn’t care much about that female, not here, not now. If that brunette was here, than the blonde hope she was having a good time. Slowly the female’s fingers trace the hand that was around hers. A shiver went up her spine. It had been years since she (i deliberately) touch another male and not felt repulse by it. No. Chester was doing something to her, but what was it? As he spoke again, she laughed to her self. Her childish giggles were lost over the sound of the music. She’d told him earlier didn’t she? There was no place for her go to. She was a loner.
“No.” The female spoke. Smiling, she reaches for both his hands and wrapped them around her waist. There was something fun about tonight. Perhaps it was the high that she had gotten from the pills that put her in such a provocative mood? As she leaned into the male she brought her lips to his ear and over the sound of the music she spoke.
“Are you suggesting we ditch Sam and go to your place?”
She could’ve giggled at that thought. The man didn’t seem to be the type of male to eagerly agree to taking a blonde back to his place and screw her. He was a smart man. He probably knew that she was fucked up and not in her right mind. The more the female dance on him however, the more she tried to push the serious thoughts away. Yet there was a desire beginning to manifest inside of her. No matter how hard she tried to push that feeling away; no matter how hard she wanted to deny it, it was still there. Deep down inside her she was willing to give this male a chance. No! (i “Don’t be a silly-willy.”) The girl sung to herself softly. The male would never want her.
Pushing both the desire and the doubt away, the blonde tried her best to conjure up a smile. She was rather good at it, offering people fake smiling and acting flirty. One facade after another, she enjoyed dancing that dance. Yet now there was a new desire.
As the song came to an end there was a sound of chattering all around. It seemed as if tonight they wasn’t just one set DJ. Another DJ was preparing to set up, and so now the blonde female and the male was free talk without yelling, yet how long would that last. Turning around, the girl looked at him. Her blues eyes looked into his brown eyes. There was something she wanted to convey to him, yet words could not translate her confusion. Surely, it had to be the drugs sending a false sense of passion. No, the female didn’t desire him. Or did she?
Sam had a problem with alcohol. Once you have an addiction it’s hard to let go of it. As then familiar stench of liquor surrounded her, the female let out a sigh. She didn’t wan to get drunk, not when she had just applied when her internship at the rehab center was going to the next few days. The last thing she wanted to do was get back into drinking. But as a cute guy smiled at her and handed her a glass of liquor was hesitant. Drinking something that a stranger gives you is a rather bad idea. Yet. (i “No thank you.”) She said curtly as she moved away from him. She had bigger things to worry about. Like Adele doing something stupid and dragging Chester into it.
For a moment Adele's nothing to him. Not a patient, not an interest, not even a fucking personality and there's this fake shit going on, dispassionate whispers which're meant to be seductive but sounded more like lies and it's sad. The same sort of sad he'd noticed clinging about her at the ward. Sure, there's singing and then there's that infernal smile, annoying in a way since it's hiding and Adele's running like that. Weak like that.
Underneath all that capricious shit though, Chester's positive he'd find something damaged, something which may've been pretty at some point but'd been trampled on by careless people who didn't give a shit. Ditching Sam's the best idea they'd had all night since drugs're not it, and whatever'd been in the drink's not strong enough to overpower his mind and so it's a loss on both fronts. The world's small then, confined by matted walls and walls covered in sweat, breath puffing out into the air around them and it's stifling, comforting and sick all at the same time. Chester didn't protest Adele's guiding of his hands to hold her proper, and even when there's quiet momentarily, a pause, an unsteady intake of breath at the pending release which'd come with new music, his hands're still there. Just that this time there's these eyes, filled with something and void at the same time.
Empty inside, like the emotion's bottled up together with whatever negative ones'd been trapped underneath by an infant which's Adele's past self.
There's no good, no bad, everything just's, and the drugs're helping Adele feel something through that barrier, no doubt. That's the whole appeal, probably. And whenever something's threatening to pierce through, negative always won out against the positive and Adele'd just clamp back up, like when she'd cried and ran from the session.
From the facility even.
Would've been easy to just say she didn't want to go any longer.
But no, it'd to be this distance. So why keep him around? Wasn't he, Chester, affiliate of the facility, a sore reminder of that weakness? Of the holes seeping into the tightly knit barrier which'd been so carefully constructed?
"I don' know," Chester shrugged, licking his lips, thirsty, parched, drowning.
"Sam's my ride though -no car, remember?" She hadn't asked though, right? Chester's not sure. He's pretty sure it's obvious what'd happened to the car from his face and the stitches hiding underneath his floppy hair.
"'less you're plannin' to drive me home," Chester suggested with a lackadaisical grin, languidly playing across his features. It's a game. Just a game and it's all good.
"Dya wanna leave this place?" he suggested. It's crowded, he'd work tomorrow and this's all shades of fucked up wrong since technically Adele's not even registered missing and as such still a patient. Technically.
Fuck that shit.
His head hurt thinking about the consequences and so Chester didn't. If she'd ask, he'd take her home. Just because it wouldn't sit right with him to leave Adele to the sorrows of a Parker, or the chagrined frustration of Sam.
Adele'd told him the primary events leading her to being where she's right then, but it'd clued nothing away about who she's, nothing in fact. Something Chester figured's Adele's used to. To not introduce herself other than what's her name and why're you here, and then nothing. No, 'I like the colour pink', or 'dress like a fucking retard', which's fine but left her rather hollow. For too long the script'd been: 'sleep with me', 'fuck off'.
A game of pong between two people.
Adele usually won. She'd lost only once.
"Wha's your favourite colour?" Chester asked, just for the sake of it. Were there even dreams left in her head? Or'd they all turned to nightmares instead?
What’s her favorite color? Was he fucking with her, or was he being completely honest and sincere. A childish thing, the female never had time to think about things. No, her concerns were always about how to survive. Who could she trust? Would she be molested again? That was a good question, a question she didn’t have an answer to. Pressing herself against Chester she placed her hands on his chest and looked at her. Pretending to be a child wouldn’t save her from the demons that consumed her at night. Only drugs and more drugs could push away those beast that threaten to drag her down to the deepest pits of hell. Or rather, that was what she told herself. Another method, another way, she never thought of trying to find salvation in a different way into this man came along. Why? Why did he have this effect on her? It was his job to figure people out.
The drugs had made her forget that the male never cared for her. He was just doing what was required of him to keep his job. Her fingers let go of his shirt and she backed away. When reality threatens to cave in on her, the little rabbit tried her best to run away from danger. As fast as her little legs could carry her, she tried frantically to escape; she never got tiered of running. But tonight was different. Running never solved any of her problems, it only made them seem to grow bigger and bigger. Blinking her blues eyes the female shook her head from side to side.
“Yes...I do. Parker bought me a motorcycle before I went to rehab.” Her voice trailed off.
Somehow he was different from Chester yet the female though the two men were oddly similar. Both seemed to actually want to listen to her.
Or at least that’s how she thought the male was. She never knew how honest or sincere he truly was, considering the fact that they’d only known each other for a little while. Yet the first time she talked face to face, she was able to tell him about his life, and he hadn’t criticized her. He listen to silence as she ranted on and on about how fair life had been for her.
Like a spoil little brat.
“Can you drive a motorcycle?” She asked, as she step back and reached for his hands. Before the DJ was finish and the music started playing again, the female wanted to lead the male away from the crowd. Even though it’d been a while since she been to his house, she remember pretty much how to get to his garage. The stairs to the basement were close to the kitchen. Or rather she thought it was. A sigh broke through her lips, as she ran her hands through her hair.
Something was wrong. Instead of enjoying being under the influence, she was fighting. She was fighting to be sober and stay in control of her life. It was a fleeting thing however. There was no doubt in her mind that one day she would turn back to the comfort of drugs but for now..
“White and black..” She whispered.
“I love how white and black blend together to create the perfect contrast. Both colors are pure; to me one cannot exist without together. It’s like… life. There’s happiness in life and there is sorrow in life. One cannot truly existed without knowing how both feel..”
With that the female was tugging on Chester’s hand to lead him to where Parker kept his vehicles locked up. In truth it was a lie. The motorcycle didn’t belong to Adele at all, but the male was like her older brother. He wouldn’t mind her (s stealing) (i borrowing) from him. It was only one night. It wasn’t like she had a habit of stealing things from other people.
Black and white, it's a miserable contrast if that's life but Chester didn't correct it. There's something wrong with the lot of them, all of humanity and fixing it's like telling this generation to roll over and die because they'd failed at living in the first place and fuck that. It's all shades of grey in the end. Like a folded piece of paper. There's this Buddhist story about darkness, how the world'd been white before humans came and folded it, like a piece of paper. Then, within the folds of light, darkness'd come to being. It's right that one couldn't exist without the other, the contrast, that's, but there'd been the belief that everything's initially light, good, or whatever one'd like to call it.
"I c'n ride one, don't 've a license though," Chester confessed but he's never been one to stop at a little risk. Reckless to a fault's more his thing, easily tempted, without ambition but whatever. There's his little sisters though, and that'd kept Chester from diving headfirst into something detrimental to health.
They're walking through the anonymous masses and before Adele'd clutched his hand, pulling, wanting, needing him to come along, there's a quick stop at the wardrobe room for his coat. Fuck him if he's meant to ride a bike without. If they're going someplace far away, at least he'd want to've some protection from the onslaught that's winter's approach.
"So who the fuck's Parker?" Chester asked offhandedly, rounding the motorcycle. Considering whether it'd be called theft if he'd been alluded to the actual owner of the machine, Chester stopped caring, wanted out of the mouldy shed, away from the sweating, insane people, to some place else entirely.
He'd ride Adele's coattails to wherever her whimsy'd take them easily plenty.
Grabbing hold of the steer, Chester swung his leg across the seat and turned the key, revving the humming engine when it'd come to life. He'd rode bikes plenty, usually smaller ones though, the racing kinds, and they're without helmets. Fuck that though. What're the odds of him crashing something else? Sleep'd been less evasive since that episode so there's that.
"I like orange," Chester piped up, azure eyes lifting to match the even coloured ones in Adele's face, hiding away a storm of emotion behind dark pupils, extended because of whatever shit she'd taken. It's all good.
Escaping, running, what else's there in life to do anyway?
Leaving the bike for a second, Chester fiddled with the garage door and lifted it to feel the wind run across his face almost soothingly. Night's falling, darkness creeping up on them in full and up above there weren't even stars or a moon to light the way since instead there're clouds blocking their view. At least the rain'd let up for a second.
Passing Adele on the way back to the bike, Chester spotted the single helmet, and picked it up, "dya care for it? Or dya wanna take a risk?" he offered with a cheeky smirk.
Figuring to know the answer, Chester left it and climbed back on the bike, pushing it forward so the standard clapped back up and then there's nothing stopping him from accelerating. Easily sliding the machine to line up to Adele, Chester looked at her from where he's hunched over the steering wheel.
"Anywhere you wanna go?" the man asked, contemplative. Adele'd been to rehab, a mental facility, institutes and what else fucked up mess, and so it's up to anyone's guess whether there'd been time to make actual memories which'd warrant nostalgia. Well, there'd been Sam and Parker, but they're more like a part of a whole other life than a good memory. It's maybe not her scene anymore, even though to Adele, it probably felt safe.
Familiar like that.
She'd changed though. Talking to him'd proven that much.
Why else'd she cried?
(i Parker? Who was Parker?)
He was the light to her darkness, the lonely man with grey eyes who was nothing more than a savior to lost causes. It wasn’t just because he was rich, or the fact that he had charisma which drawn people to him-despite his being gay. Sincere, caring, honest, sweet, he was many thing rolled into one. When the blonde had ran away from home, she had pushed Sam away and started traveling following the parties and hopping in strangers cars. For what felt like a whole summer, she paid with her body for drugs. Most of those guys didn’t think twice about supplying her with her addiction as long as they were allow a place between her legs. She was young, 17 years old, reckless, hurt. But there was something worse than those things. She was empty. Sure some guys tried to start a relationship with her, tried to evolve the their crazy relationship beyond that of just sex and drugs, but Adele wasn’t into that shit. Her emotional support had been Sam. Emotional relationships didn’t do anything for her, it was only physical contact that got her off.
She needed to be high to forget how much she hurt. She needed to be fucked into oblivion in order to forget her same. One party after another, dancing, grinding, crashing, it was a wonder how she survived. It at one of those many parties where she was getting high that she met Parker. She had been rolling with the older crowd for some time. Wearing sluttish outfits as ways to manipulate other men was something she had been used to. In rolled Parker. It had been a month; two weeks and five days since she had ran away. She had slept with twelve different guys, all older than her by a few years. That was when Parker found her lying down on her couch. Helpless, weak, and abandon. Adele had forgotten how she gotten there. What she did remember was that something was wrong with her, and the male knew it to.
She was dying. Her body couldn’t take not being sober and she was beginning to overdose. Slowly things were starting to go black and the last thing she remembers was seeing his face hovering above hers. What came next was convulsions, throwing up, being sick, screaming, begging, crying, and pleading the male to give back to her the sweetness of drugs. No. Adele hated Parker.
He stayed by her side, forcing her to fight back against the cruel addiction and become stronger. It was hell, pure hell. Yet the male wouldn’t let her sink back into the darkness that he had saved her from. Not only that, but he had paid all of her medical bills. He was different, sincere.
Sex with her wasn’t something he wanted. Never once did she asked what happen to her, or what sent her spiraling down this hellish cycle. Instead he was nothing but kind to her. However in the end not even he could save her from the demons that had imprisoned her mercilessly.
“What?” Adele asked as she looked at Chester.
She had been thinking about the past. She didn’t hear what it was that Chester had told her. “I’m sorry.. I was.. thinking who Parker was.. He told me a lot about him… um…” She twisted her curls around her head before she hopped on the motorcycle and wrapped her arms around the male’s waist.
“You can take me where ever it is that you want to…” It had been a while since Adele didn’t know where it was that she was going to. Slowly she was coming to turns with the fact that she couldn’t always be in control. Fate was something beyond the jurisdiction of humans. If she could control fate, than she would’ve met Chester soon in life. She giggled to herself at that thought.
“Could I crash at you’re place? Parker lent me some money, so tomorrow I’ll go shopping for something less… sluttish.” She whispered.
Wherever, since they're lost anyway and fuck all if Chester cared. Apparently this Parker meant something to Adele, since the far-off look she'd been sporting while being lost in thought's cluing that much away and there's a spot of jealousy right there. Stifling the unwanted emotion, Chester casually buttoned up his coat, sluggish fingers stuffing the buttons through the loopholes and it's like that, isn't it? Casual, ordinary, but still decent and how long'd that last? Sure, Adele'd crash at his place, and he'd asked her for it, didn't he? Hadn't actually invited but implied and so it's his fault anyway.
Casting a look behind from where Chester's azure eyes'd caught the arms around his waist, he tried guessing whether Adele'd prefer to be inside, or to just ride. Picking the latter for his own sanity, Chester shrugged, revving the engine a bit to try and get a feel for the bike.
It's been too long riding one and Chester sucked at it.
It's all cool though. Like walking, not something you'd suddenly stop learning, even though there'd been a little alcohol in play. The roads're quiet anyway.
"Sure," he drawled in reply, berating himself for not having paid proper attention when Sam's riding him over to the house and part of him felt bad for leaving the woman behind without a word. Another part's happy to not've to deal with her again. There's something off about Sam, more so than Adele. Adele's the sort of madness to sing, but Sam's the kind to bite down and rip at your skin when things slid sideways.
And it'd already.
Slid sideways, that's.
Another few flicks of his wrist and they're well on their way to leaving the party behind. Road crossed underneath the wildly spinning wheels, corners hung down in lower than usual, Chester's steering clumsy some but they're good. There's the scent of pine in the air, speaking of the rain which'd been and which's to come still, wet leafs spreading their yearning for more.
Not his bike. Not his woman. Not even his patient anymore.
What the fuck's he doing?
Mel often chastised him for being stupid, for getting into accidents and that he needed to mind himself more since Chester's their only eldest brother and so screw dying. Harsh wind blew in his face without the protection of the helmet and it's fine, felt nice against his heated skin and soothing to his pressing headache.
There's be no sleep tonight. It's a given.
The bike's headlight illuminated the rows of trees passing them by, and then a town Chester faintly recognized. Eventually, there're things he's familiar with and following them, without thinking, there's the street leading home eventually. It's late when they arrived, since Chester's hopeless with directions and shit like that, but it hadn't ever been a rush getting anywhere in particular.
Maybe he should've taken Adele someplace else. Someplace -what? Romantic?
Fuck that. It'd just be pressure and while there's evidently something sparking, it's wrong. Askew almost. Chester didn't want to be fuck number thousand-and-one to a woman who'd barely the courage to touch another man while not dying inside.
Stilling the bike, Chester leaned back, feeling tired and maybe they'd ridden longer than he'd figured after all. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered.
"This's it," he remarked, the words almost harsh and so they're barely above a hoarse whisper. Clearing his throat, Chester rooted about his coat for a cigarette. Going inside's not exactly enticing, since it's night and they'd be expected to sleep at some point. Or at least be quiet.
Lighting the cigarette while still seated upon the ticking engine winding down, Chester blew out the smoke against the night sky. He hated the darkness, the feint shapes it made out of normal stuff and how shit's never really illuminated proper to see.
"Gotta warn ya though, 've got two sisters livin' in," Chester confessed, licking his lips. He's thirsty for more beer now that they'd had some.
"If we're quiet they won' even notice we're there," he said and maybe them not noticing made things easier. Both of them'd jobs to tend to in the morning. Chester figured he'd call in sick or whatever tomorrow. Screw going in. "You c'n have my bed," he shrugged, "I don' really sleep anyway." Carefully, minding Adele, Chester clambered down from the bike and extracted the keys, handing them over to the woman. "Dya still wanna come inside?"
It's her choice. Parker'd take care of her just the same, that much's obvious. It's her wanting this, maybe, that made Adele be there.
Arms wrapped around his waist tightly, the female pretend to hold on to dear life as the two went on the ride of a lifetime. The wind whipped her air around and it was almost freezing to her. Winter was coming, its very breath was on the wind and it tickled her skin; it made Goosebumps rise slowly up. Yet, it was fine, she guessed. As the two rode through out together she pressed her head to his back and wonder what would’ve happen if things were different. Had her father been a loving man, an honest man who loved and protected his daughter instead of dragging her through hell, would she be so reckless and ambition? If she had to her mother about the rapes, if her mother had reported it to the police, would she be desperately craving attention? What would’ve happen if she never ran away? Would she still be as fucked up on drugs as she was now? Probably
God dealt the cards these cards to her, why? Her life always resolved around unanswered questions; she never tried to solve them. Instead she always figure that it would be better if she ran away from them. Eventually every castle is destined to erode away with time. Illusions cave into reality. Lies are obliterated by the overbearing weight of truth. Those who run away are eventually found-mostly dead instead of alive. She was lucky wasn’t she? (i Lucky?) The girl could’ve laugh at that silly thought. There was no way. As Chester drove them both to his place, she shook her head from side to side. There was no way she was lucky. So than how had she survived for so long? Luck had to play into the equation had some part right? Somewhere God had to be looking over her right? No, no way. As the motorcycle came to a halt the female let go of the male and sat there.
The male was speaking to her.
A thin smile came to her face. So he had two sisters hun? Adele always wondered how it would be like, to not be an only child. Would things had turn out different if she had a person to confine in instead of keep all of her problems bubbled up inside. She let those demons eat up didn’t she? Shaking away those thoughts the female let out a sigh.
It was obvious that he didn’t get much sleep. She found that out when she walked in on him sleeping during therapy sessions. Yet, that had been a secret. For a moment Adele want to open her mouth and spout some motherly crap about how sleep was important but fuck it. If he had a hard time sleeping, what good would it do to have Adele bitch to him about how sleep was important? She had those problems to, didn’t she as a young child? Waking up in the middle of the night screaming, crying, and wetting the bed, she had problems sleeping as well. Mother was there to sing her to sleep after changing the sheets on that bed, but as she grew up mother wasn’t there anymore. When those nightmares came along and she had trouble sleeping, she had to learn how to sing herself to sleep, didn’t she? There was a lullaby her mother use to sing to her. She never figured out what it was, but it was a sweet one. As she looked at Chester she shrugged her shoulders softly.
“I use to have those problems..” She whispered to herself jumping off the bike.
“When I couldn’t sleep, my mother would sing to me…. But, I guess that doesn’t matter now?” She giggled.
Tossing the keys up in the air she catch them.
(i “Upon ones summer mornin’ I carefully did stray,)
(i Down by the walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor Gay)
(i Conversing with a young lass, who seemed to be in pain.)
(i Crying ‘William where thou goest, I fear thou ne’er return again’ “)
Adele closed her eyes as she finished the verse. There was more to it, but she had forgotten it. Turning her head towards the male she open her eyes and sighed softly, running a finger through her blonde hair. If the truth be told, she wanted to be a singer as a child, but than drugs became apart of her life and well, this is what happen. Placing the keys inside her coat pocket she sigh.
“Sometimes I wonder if I talk to much.”
Sleeping's been a problem since forever and a day but fuck that. Chester'd gotten used to the quiet of the night, entertained himself with tramp television, lamenting about the world which'd gone to shit and sometimes learning, since Mel's adamant he'd make something of himself. If not for himself, then screw it -to stop them from worrying and it's fine. That's fine too. He'd worried about his little sisters for a long time's well, especially after their mother died. Whatever sleeping habits'd been gained then'd fled the scene with the memory of the woman's drawn out grey face, bordering yellow, destroyed from the inside out by cancer.
She didn't deserve it. The way she'd gone.
"It matters," Chester said plainly after Adele's voice no longer soothed the air. The singing's nice, but there's bound to be a more appreciative audience around than he's. "Even if she's dead, or whatever, not wantin' to see you, it mattered then, so it matters now," Chester drawled, eyes narrow as he watched the whimsical woman in front of him.
She'd giggle and dance her worries away, sing to salve the soul and sleep and fuck that escapism.
"'s not how much, 's what you're sayin'," he remarked when Adele posed she maybe talked to much. People said so much shit. Each day, it's the same fucked up routine. 'How're you', 'fine, you?', 'nice weather we're having'. It's all the same junk words, meaningless and emotionless, without care and when'd anyone ever asked the question in earnest? Replied in earnest.
Chester'd stopped replying. A simple quirking of an eyebrow scared people from wanting to know, except those that're really curious for the proper reasons. Not to stab him in the back with some new rumour to spread.
Suppressing the shiver from creeping up his spine, Chester hunched in on his jacket some more and padded towards the flat. The apartment's nothing nice, cheap, and there're drunks and other addicts living there, some out on the streets only a few blocks away but that's okay. They're people and they'd come to respect their fucked up family for living there after Chester'd beaten some of them up for making coy remarks towards his sisters.
They'd shut up then. Right of the strongest.
Mel'd protested, saying she's fine, but that'd been a lie.
If there's any sure fire way to get him pissed beyond reason, it's messing with his family. Or whatever's left of it anyway. Nothing much.
A legacy of alcohol and cancer.
Fiddling with the door, Chester pushed it open, the heavy spring at the back pushing back as he held it open for Adele. There's no elevator in the building, but they're at the third floor anyway. Not that high up.
Inside's warmer, inside the apartment even more so, though it's already lights out for the two younger girls. It's late. Later than Chester'd figured but screw that. Ditching his keys and coat on a chair, he switched on some light. There's little in manner of possessions, but there's a definite feminine touch present, flowers on the table and small shit like that.
A cloth on the dining table, a plant in the corner which wasn't withering any.
"Home sweet home," Chester deadpanned, switching on the television and dunked the remote on the couch, the sound suppressed. "Dya wan' som'thing to drink?" he offered, raiding the fridge in search of that beer he'd promised himself upon getting home in one piece. Might's well combat the headache that way.
Realizing he's offering alcohol to an addict, or whatever Adele failed to be classified as, Chester shrugged at himself. She'd come to the facility for Sam -the Sam that's not his sister- and so upon realizing that'd left with the same vigour. Which isn't much, frankly.
"My room's down that door," Chester instructed as he uncapped the bottle and took a swill from the dark glass. "You c'n borrow a shirt or som'thin'. Shower's there," he gave the short version of a tour. Their apartment's nothing big anyway. The twins slept in one room.
His's the one next to that, and off the left, behind the kitchen's the shower. The living room's attached to a half-open kitchen with a tiny balcony near the large windows. Small, lived in, worn, but suiting somehow. It's all good.
(i "Even if she's dead, or whatever, not wantin' to see you, it mattered then, so it matters now,")
The blonde shook her head when Chester spoke those words. True her mother had been kind and loving and had spoiled her as a child, but that all went to shit. Nothing about her parents mattered, as long as she had people like Sam, Chester, and Parker. As the male turned around and started walking to his apartment the female followed silently. It was such a small house they’d lived in compared to where she came from.
Funny. On the outside Adele grew up as a pampered little princess. On the inside she was unstable, scare and broken. It was a catastrophe begging to happen. Yet she had survived, not all in one piece, but she had survived and fought to live.
Standing in Chester’s house she nodded her head silently as she heard him speak on and on about where everything was. (i Sleep.) That sounded rather good right now. As the male went to the kitchen looking for something to drink, Adele discarded the leather jacket on the couch and yawned a little. So many things had happen today. First she had broken down and cried, then she had met Sam, ran away to a party, popped some pills, and now here she was crashing at someone else house. Everything seemed to be surreal, had this day even happen, or had she just imagine it? No… everything was real. She had been so use to living endless nightmares that she had forgotten what a dream was. Here she was, in the midst of a perfect dream; it seemed as if she had finally escaped from the monsters.
“No.. I’m fine, I’m, going to…”
A yawn escaped her lips, fuck a bed. Falling on a couch, the female slowly closed her eyes. If sleep’s coming than let it. Who was she to fight back against it?
(b “Parker!”) The music is still pulsating and its half an hour past midnight. The brown hair guy is busy dancing with another guy laughing and drinking a beer. It’s the last D.J. of the night, and soon the party’s going to end in another thirty minutes. As the brown eye male turned towards Sam he screamed back over at the music, but his voice is lost over the roar of the crowd. Annoy, the brunette grabs a hold of his hand and yanks him away from his dance partner. Upstairs the music is still pulsating but at least now they’re able to hear each other.
(b “Where’s Adele?”) Sam asked.
The male just shrugs his shoulders before setting down his beer. A rather happy-go-lucky, the male simply just shrugged his shoulders. (i “She probably went to some guys house. My motorcycles gone, and the only person who would steal from me is her.. Though, she’ll probably return it later.”) He shrugged his shoulders.
A tinge of jealousy runs through the brunette as she closes her eyes. If she had to bet; she probably went snuck off with Chester to his house. Closing her eyes, she imagine the two..
(i “You’re blushing..”) Parker whisper.
(b “Shut up you!” ) Sam groaned, as she stomped her feet.
(i “Oh relax, Chester’s probably a nice guy. I’m sure nothin’ bad gonna happen. Just spend the night here, and cool you head.”)
Before the female had time to protest, the male placed a finger to her lips and shushed her. His dark eyes glared at her. Pouting the female cross her arms. Falling on the bed she sighed.
Parker knew Adele better than anyone.
Sleep's fickle like usual, the rollercoaster which'd been up for Adele finally going down and fuck him if he's not jealous at how easily those eyes closed on her. It's petty some, endearing too, somewhere and nothing'd happen. What'd he expected to happen anyway? Sitting down on the floor between the couch and table, Chester flipped through the channels until the only real thing on's this talk show, documentaries and advertisements for porn. Leaving it to deer escaping a tiger's clutches in a physical struggle for life Chester got up, fetching a blanket from his bed before casually draping it across his charge. How the fuck's he going to explain that shit to Mel and Sam anyway?
It'd be easier of the world's like the show, fighting, death or life, simple and abstract, but there's this whole fucked up society creating all these nuances, these shades of grey through which there'd be half-lives, dejected rejects of misfits dangling at the bottom of that food chain and it's eating or being eaten like that. They're all struggling to thrive.
Running a hand through his hair, Chester picked the empty bottle of beer from the table and stopped watching Adele sleep. Wouldn't do any good anyway. She's hurt, inside, scarred, small, but boisterous and whimsical on the outside and even though Chester'd been expecting shit to be awkward, it's not that bad. Just needed getting used to some and then there's the knowledge that even though the facility's a messed up place to be, this wouldn't last either.
There's the desire to escape it all then.
The rain, the facility, the madness and structure, the rules and oppression of conforming while Chester knew full well no one's ever going to fit in proper. Even the ones that'd questioned their resolve after a few years of struggling, of fighting and posing, of pretending and looking across their shoulder to make sure someone's watching.
The night's long with nothing to do, no sleep.
There's some reading to be done for the upcoming tests, though each time Chester stared at the dancing figures on the page, all he'd think about is Adele's body strangling to get close to his with tempting sways of her hips and fuck. She's far too young. Too young in certain aspects, but that didn't count for her body. For those desires.
In her head she's childishly expecting shit to be alright without any effort though. No parents to rescue her now. He sure as fuck wasn't a father of any shape or form.
Parker'd that role.
Lighting another cigarette, Chester flipped through the pages, sitting at the dining table, watching the television dispassionately as it played out mutely. The figures on it changed eventually, from dull commentaries to something more lively like the morning news and Chester sat down against the couch at that point, just staring.
Back against the front of the furniture, the back of his head flopped casually against the free spot Adele hadn't claimed, eyes dropping but hazily watching without taking anything in. The side scroll bar summing up the latest tragedy reflected in his eyes in dull red.
Days're too long. Too short.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Chester's eyes fell shut entirely, for minutes, maybe seconds at a time before a sharp intake of air flared up a never resting mind once more.
It's a different fight then.
If sleeping's like dying, and waking up being reborn, Chester's a despairing man. He'd just wait and then what? Go to work? Send Adele back to Parker and pick her up again after she'd taken more pills, parties a while and gotten sick of it? At least the headache'd dimmed down some compared to last night. Small favours.
After the umpteenth sag in consciousness, Chester sat up a little straighter, rubbing at his face and figured he'd make coffee. No sense in going to bed since the difference in position, the walking there'd wake him up proper once more. Might's well give in to staying awake now. The incentive's there, but his body's not complying much. Just staring for a bit, sitting there.
Waiting for the solitude to end.
(i “Hey there, little baby..”)
His voice reek of alcohol as he brought his face closer to the little girl. Sleepily, the little girl looked up into the face of her father as he smiled at her. Brown eyes stare softly back at azure orbs as the little blonde rub her eyes sleepily. Sitting beside her, his fingers softly stroke her hair before he looked down at her. A thin smile came to his face as he pressed his lips to her forehead. (i “Do you love me, baby girl?”) He whispered to her. Yawning the girl looked into the face of her protector. He was a king and she was his little princess, Nodding her head she looked at him. Yes, daddy.
(i “Give me a little kiss, than.”) He whispered to her softly.
Nodding her head, she kissed his cheeks softly, before he smile. Leaning closer to her, his fingers tilted her head back and he kissed her lips softly at first, but than he pressed against hers harder. Taken aback, the girl try to squirm. (i “Don’t worry sweetie, we’re playing a game. But you can’t tell mommy understand?”) The male cooed to her. Looking up at those dark eyes, she nodded her head to show that she understood. Smirking he went to kiss her again, and again, and again. Squirming, the little blonde girl start to feel sick; there was something wrong.
As her father kissed her, his hands began to wonder. Goosebumps formed on her skin, and slowly the girl started breathing hard, something wasn’t right. Yet she didn’t dare tell her father not to stop. It was just a game, she was sure he wasn’t going to her hurt right? As he breath came harder, the male smile. She was wearing a pink nightgown that night. And as the male slipped his hands under the gown, the girl felt shivers crawl ups her spine. (i “What’s wrong sweetie? Does it hurt?”) Whimpering the girl nodded her head. It was a lie; it didn’t hurt, but it felt wrong.
(i “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel better….”) The male whisper as he moved atop of her.
Stop… Adele squirmed under the covers on the couch. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as she tried to fight away the demons that came with the night. Yet she couldn’t stop reliving those memories. She could feel those hands all over her. Whimpering one hot tear spilled from her eyes as she tried to fight against those memories, but it wasn’t possible. “stop, daddy, your hurting me!” Adele copied the words of the little girl in her dream as she tossed and turned on Chester’s couch. It was all just a dream; yet it seemed so real. Nightmares were pure torture.
“I.. can’t… breathe…” Adele’s broke. Rolling onto the floor, she open her eyes and the dream was gone. Clutching at her shirt, the female leaned forward, and yet the breathing wasn’t there. Struggling for breath, she clutched at the floor as she fought to breath, yet there was nothing. The walls were closing in on her, and as she sat there, paralyzed and sweating, her eyes started to wonder.
“Help…. Me…” She begged, “anyone.”
Her heart was banging violently across her chest. She was under attack, and the aggressor was anxiety. What seemed to last minutes only lasted for ten seconds. It was the sight of the T.V. Play and Chester that calm her down.
Shaking badly, Adele struggles to sit straight up. Turning her head away from Chester she’s embarrassed for whatever he had to saw. Anxiety attacks; it was a secret that the girl had been keeping for the longest times. The only person who actually knew that she had been prescribed anxiety pills probably didn’t even know that she had snuck out. Funny, Adele had been fine. The last attack had been… she forgotten when the last time it was that she had had her breath stolen from her.
“I didn’t want you to know about this..”
Her voice breaks a little. Struggling to her feet, the female tried to stand, but collapses to the floor. Her feet are trembling to much, and damn..,.. Her personally nurse had been forcing those anxiety pills down her throat ever since she went to rehab. Waking her up as soon as she got there just to make sure that Adele took those pills was Aida’s jobs.
“I have to go back…” She speaks suddenly.
Sadly she’s in no shape to stand, let alone walk out the door and drive.
She’s trap; there is not escape.
For Adele, the moon brought torture and imprisonment.
The sun brought Solace and freedom.
It took a moment for Chester to realize shit's going on. Adele's frantic thrashing on the couch woke him up more proper than the prospect of coffee but there's something keeping him from touching her, from waking her up and fuck, if it's an anxiety attack or nightmare there's nothing he'd do about that. Touching people who'd been molested's not something which'd invoke trust. It's hard, on his part, but it's waiting.
Just waiting and watching, until Adele'd woken herself up by falling from the couch right there in front of him. Trembling muscles'd be seen rippling underneath the skimpy clothing and Chester wished she'd have accepted his offer for something decent. A sweater maybe. Not like it'd change anything, but for his own peace of mind maybe.
Resting his head on the couch, Chester listlessly watched as Adele recovered from the clawing nightmares. It's not that he failed to care. Honest.
Just that, comforting's in the same line as wronged affection right then.
"You're safe here," he drawled languidly, just so she knew nothing'd happen to hurt her. It's there then, the decision to go back. To get back to the facility and be doped up to her ears on stuff that's supposedly legal. Scared, that's all she's.
Reaching over to the table, Chester took out a cigarette and lit one, shifting to stare at the television before replacing the lighter. They're good. It's all fine.
World's a sick place. Of course it'd infect people like that.
"'ll take ya, soon," Chester promised, eyes drifting over to Adele. He wasn't sure what he'd do with the bike. Probably try and find Parker's place and return it.
No way Mel'd let him keep it. Too dangerous. Too expensive and possibly stolen that way.
It's a shame though. Whether they're nightmares or shit-fuck else, Chester knew it's finally being allowed to grind through Adele's system at a debilitating pace, yes, but moving at least. It's no longer being hidden. There's the risk she'd be overtaken though, jump, pushed to that edge of cutting and doing drugs once more all for the sake of forgetting.
He knew what that's like.
"...if you wan'," he added after a moment's silence.
"'s it about that man? The nightmare?" Chester asked, unable to entirely ignore what he'd heard. It'd be like dismissing it'd been of any importance and it's -important. To Adele it's a living thing inside of her head in the form of memories, returning again and again to hurt her. Blowing out some smoke, Chester leaned forward to dip the ashes into a tray and made to get up, brushing down his jeans.
"'m makin' coffee, we c'n leave after that," Chester promised, needing to be more awake than he currently's to get anywhere safely. Her promise's a step back, going back's regressing, but it's also a step forward, a realization she needed help. Any programme'd tell its patients that acknowledging's the first step and no matter how fucking cliché, it's no less true.
Screw going back to work though.
The kitchen's cold for some reason and Chester leaned against the counter, rubbing at his face with both hands before pushing back his tousled hair. It'd nothing to get him more awake than he's currently not. Blinking the world back into sharpness after the blur it'd been, Chester started the process of making coffee.
For a brief second, it seemed as if the male was acting as the prince charming, she had imagined him to be. There was something about him speaking to her, which helped smooth away the anxiety that was plaguing her. It took a moment but the shaking slowly came to a halt. Slowly the darkness that had been trying to swallow her whole, was beginning to recede farther away. (i “You’re safe here” ). The word of the male echoed in her mind and it was that that brought her forth from the darkest pits. Yet, even though she fight the darkness, the shame.. The goddamn shame still remained eating her from the inside out. It was a cancer that destroy her from the inside out. It drove her to do selfish and self-destructive acts to drive it away. Yet it still remain; just like the scars that were carved into her wrist and thighs, the wound could never leave her. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she nodded her head.
“Yes. It was about that man. I tried to.. close my eyes and pretend that nothing happen but..” Gagging the girl half runs half stumbles to the bathroom. The dream’s made her physically sick. Its hard to breath when you in the process of throwing up. It was a nasty process., It was as if her own body was trying purify the girl. Even though it last a couple of seconds, it felt like hours. Her throat’s burning from dry-heaving. For a second its hard to breath, yet those seconds past and eventually after the anxiety attack and the throwing-up the shaking’s stop.
Flushing the toilet, she sat trying to take him as many deep breaths as she can. (i “Its going to be ok..”) She whispered to herself, as she slowly rises up from the pit of darkness. Struggling, she slowly walks. Even though the shaking’s stop, she’s still a little unsure of herself if she’s able to make it, yet she perseveres.
After all what ever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. Using the wall as balance she walks back into where she was before and coughs.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you wish it did. But we can’t give up, we have to endure. There’s more to life than just nightmares and monsters. You’ve shown me, somehow, in some way, that there’s no sympathy for those who quit. Only those who preserve and fight find happiness.” Adele laughs, it’s a lame speech, something that belongs in some cheesy movie. But it works. She’s walk this far in her life. Now it was time to finish what she started. Not for Sam, or Parker, or Chester, but for Adele China.
It's a dull day, riding back. Like the darkness of the night'd all but vanished into a colourless grey and not even the colourful lights beckoned some merriment this time around. Chester failed to care much for it. Adele's still on his mind. How she'd been so fucking vulnerable at his place. Throwing up, physically resisting remembering what'd happened and it's rooted deep, Chester realized then. Like an infection that needed to get cut out, it'd hurt to heal. Progress though, being sick plenty to admit the need for help and so there's that at least.
Life's not about enduring all the time. There's limits, there's nothing else. The addicts, they'd gotten it right when it came to how to enjoy life. After you died, there's nothing. There's no pleasure to be gained from suffering, so why not drugs, why not alcohol or whatever else? Why the fuck not? What else's there?
More than nightmares and monsters? Really?
Sure, there's a loads more than men raping women, and the repeat-performance of that in dreary nuances conjured up by a damaged mind. But whether that'd appease the soul after having been screwed over so many times's up for debate. There sure as Hell wasn't some God to help you through that shit. That's just a doctor's successful brainwashing of a subject who'd nothing else to live for. And living's a big thing in society. There's not even a choice to be'd, since suicide's illegal.
It'd always made Chester smirk to consider it.
If you're dead, who's going to judge you?
No one knew what'd come after death, so speculating's useless. There's however no world in which being dead's any different by the way you'd gotten to stop.
It'd been several weeks since he'd suggested Adele'd get out of the facility and she'd complied. Done drugs, danced, partied, teased and escaped but even being outside hadn't solved any of the shit she'd hoped to leave behind at the facility.
So she'd gone back there.
Gotten a new car, returned the bike. Drove Adele 'home', and'd apologized for letting her go. They'd commended him on the dedication and'd put another doctor on Adele's case. They'd ... gotten too close. Unhealthy for her rehabilitation. There's no demands a beggar'd make, so Chester'd just taken it all in stride. The talk-group remained though, even though some of them'd moved on and made place for newer, sharper individuals, who're more raw and hurt. Like an open would still. The infection's gone at least. They'd still be cutting into Adele to get to the bottom of that cesspool.
Chester heaved a sigh and flipped through some of the research materials he'd gathered to write up his paper at the end of his working days at the facility. He'd been offered a temp job though. It's all good.
Nice like that.
School's still a bitch.
Nothing’s change. For a brief second she had thought that maybe, just maybe, she’d had learned something from escaping and being with Chester. No. That wild goose-chase only ended up with another doctor assign to her. When she returned, of course her guardian angel was waiting for her, ready to chaste her for her own foolishness. Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of bounds from her safety net and look where that had gotten her. She was tiered, that anxiety attack had taken its toil on her, and her first reaction was to collapse onto the bed and ignore every word that the female had to say to her. Words, that’s all they were in the end. Words couldn’t mend together a broken heart, nor could physical contact. It takes more than counseling to save someone from the darkest clutches from of their mind, it took a bond. A special chemistry was need. One where one was comfortable enough to expose their darkest thoughts and desires to each was something that was beginning to form between her and (i him). Now, all that was stripped away from her, and they expect her to be alright? No. She wasn’t blind like the other addicts. The thought that if they kept on going to group sessions, kept on talking to their therapist, that everything would be alright. No special bond was needed to heal them; well all that’s lies. Adele-who has tasted the forbidden fruit of knowledge-could never be happy here again. The group sessions she attend where empty. The way she spoke to Emma, her new doctor, were just words that didn’t convey emotion. Everything to her felt wrong. Awfully wrong and hollow yet…
In a blink of an eye, weeks past and the Adele had survived another year. However, the female was sure that in the end, this year would be as grey as all the other years had been. Curled up into a ball, the female place her head to the glass that protected her from the outside world. Small crystals were falling outside, and it created a faint melody that was weird to her. The melody of the rain spoke in a soft voice sometimes, and at other times it was loud. The rain roar as if it was crying out in pain; or was it just mocking the pain of others. Marine-blue eyes stared off into the outside world. Beyond the glass was a wild and untamed world that had no order. Here in these walls everything was structure, calm and orderly. He-the male who offered a piece of light to her-could no longer be found in this protective, sheltered environment. He was out there, somewhere, and Adele long to see him again.
There’s a soft voice calling her name and turning her head, she looked. Eyes the color of chocolate stare back at her and the female’s sighs. Ever since she returned secrets were revealed, ones that she didn’t want anyone to know. So how’d they respond? They’d gotten a female doctor who had a degree in psychology to come and speak with different times of the week. She was beautiful, more graceful than Sam, and more sympathetic that Chester. She was patient, understanding, and didn’t try to get Adele to talk. If anything she just sat there and wait a few minutes to see if the whimsical blonde had anything to say. So far Adele’s been a bitch. Not to mention childish.
Yet today, with the rain falling outside her window, the female doesn’t feel like staying silent. After all, in silence theirs nothing to do but think, remember and regret. Adele’s done all three the past few weeks and she’s done of remain a mute. “Upon one’s summer morning…”
Facing her doctor/therapist/whatever, there’s a faint smile on her face. “Have you heard the story of Maria and her sailor bold?”
The rain'd been an ass, car'd broken down and fuck today big time. Chester'd little time between school, work and not sleeping, running himself down, partying too hard, searching, trying to find something to forget that night where Adele'd pressed against him on the bike and fuck that. Rubbing his coat's sleeve under his nose, which's wet as well, Chester let out a weary sigh and just stood there. Fucking dripping on the carpet until a nurse glared at him to get his mess cleaned up and 'get outta the way'.
A sneeze's his only reply and screw them.
The doctor's lounge's quiet, the weather making their patients withdrawn some but that's especially the moment they'd to be wary, considering suicides're born from that shit. There's no one there then and Chester just shrugged out of his wet coat and clung to the white one they're supposed to wear, just for warmth. He'd a headache, hadn't slept, dreamt of her, even when completely shitfaced drunk and there's just no stepping aside for Emma, who'd been so bloody patient with Adele so far.
Chester'd appreciated the other doctor being gentle, but knew he'd a far greater chance to get anywhere with Adele. It's holding back her progress. On the other hand, there's the knowledge that if he's the one trying to heal her, Adele'd always see him like a doctor. Like someone who'd helped her, not entertained feelings for her.
His nose wouldn't stop running and Chester sniffled, waiting for the coffee-machine to come up with something that didn't look and tasted like utter shit. It's already late afternoon. He'd the evening shift. Eating hadn't been a problem, his stomach just wasn't up for it anyway.
"I made some progress with Miss China," Emma said softly to announce herself, startling Chester, who took in a sharp breath and ran a hand down his face. Head tilted back some, he watched her.
Was he that much of an open book?
His hands'd gripped the counter, and eventually Chester turned down his gaze, watching his feet on the floor leaving wet imprints.
"Congrats," he drawled finally, turning, taking his coffee and going about sorting paperwork for something to do. No patients to see today. He's only guiding a handful, and most of them're vast on their way out of the facility, which's nice for a change.
Felt like a cold, the way his head's congested and Chester caught himself staring at some of the paperwork for minutes at a time without actually advancing. He hadn't slept lately. It'd be better once he'd, but there's no telling when his body'd give up on staying awake.
His thoughts strayed to her.
Maybe she's watching out the window, how the rain's pattering against the shields in dull drones too, feeling shit's dying again. It's likely, but also none of his concern.
She'd gotten a year older. Birthday and everything. Wouldn't hurt to just say congratulations'd it?
There's longing to the simplicity of watching Adele sleep like he'd done those weeks ago, when she'd been crashing at his place.
Feeling enough's enough, Chester shoved his chair back and glanced around. Alone again. There's not much staff around to begin with since the night-shift'd start soon. Casually, Chester strolled down the hallway, watching their 'guests' entertain themselves with cards, games and some TV. Everything's sullen and dreary, even inside. Finding Adele's room isn't hard at all. Her name's still there. Same place.
Like when he'd gotten inside before.
Leaning against the surface of the door, forehead cooled by the smooth paint, Chester argued with his conscience about going inside. He'd been instructed to leave her alone. Emma'd sort it now, he wasn't needed. It'd been for his own good, and Adele's.
Still, instead of bursting in, Chester knocked, not wanting to intrude. Couldn't tell what Adele'd been promised to believe for her to make progress, and so Chester didn't know whether he's welcome anymore,
Maria was gave up her wealth, her family, her home, everything just to wait for her darling sailor to return home to him. Though the seas were a dangerous place to make a living, pirates roam the seas, the weather could become hell and the waves could’ve swallowed up the ship, and many face starvation, she was confident that she’d see him again. Her beautiful jolly sailor bold who was worth to her more than gold. It was a romantic story. Romance was a thing Adele use to scoff at. But now, on rainy days like these, she wonders if such a thing could actually exist in the world for her. Emma, a beautiful young girl, had just left her. Now she was back in her self-imposed exile, talking to herself. Her twenty-third birthday had come and gone. Now what? Spend another year a prisoner to the inside world, dealing with demons and addiction. At least the now, she had taken a step back. She had acknowledge her demons, and slowly she’s been fighting them. Oh yes, the past few weeks the night mares had come. The second time they came, she wanted to scream Chester’s name, but that urged died down. Prince charming won’t always be there to save her. She had to save her self at times like these.
With each dream the numbness she felt, the apathy towards life was slowly beginning be wash away. Looking out at the rain, she sighs. Why? Those tears fell from heaven whenever God felt like weeping, yet it was a farce, a lie. He wasn’t sorry for mankind, if so, those tears would be one of mercy. Each drop would cleanse away the sin of man and free them from the demons that haunted their path, yet it didn’t. Rain couldn’t wash away anger, or sadness, or loneliness, or despair. It just fell, creating its meaningless melody. Melodies…..
So many melodies the girl has heard. Some of them were whispered to her, purred in her ear during a night fill with hot passion. Others were yelled at her, cruel and harsh. Yet, some were sung to her by a caring mother would couldn’t figure out what had wrapped her daughter so. Yet the sweetness melody she head didn’t come from her own melancholy voice trying to sing her sorrows away. It came from a voice of two people who, seemed to not judge her for past mistakes. Chester. Parker. How muck kindness could one wring out of a person? Lying down on her bed, the female softly closed her eyes. She was tiered. Talking to Emma had for some odd reason, wore her out.
That or the rain was softly singing her to sleep. Yet, what good was sleep? Was she ready to have another night facing her demons and having them tortures her? Maybe her life was just a reenactment of Dante’s Divine comedy? Her child hood was hell, her teenage years to now was purgatory, and perhaps after all of this, she would find heaven? She doubted that there was a heaven for her to go. For now however, she would enjoy being lost in the purgatory.
A knock sounded on her door.
At once something compelled her to get up and answer the door. Somehow she knew that knock before. For some odd reason, her face was turning into a smile. Each step she took anticipation began to build her inside of her. Slowly, she stopped at the door and took a breath to calm herself. She knew who it was. Opening up the door a sigh of relief came from her lips.
“How have you been, stranger?”
For a moment there’s an urge to throw her arms around his neck and hug him close to her. For the past few weeks he’s the only man she’s had the desire to see. Now here he was, standing before her.
Lost. Drunk. Trying to run, but failing, escaping, floundering, drowning. He'd been rushing through shit without glancing up, until now that's. Right then it's like shit'd paused for real and the haze which'd lingered about his head'd lifted some. Not by much though. Chester'd been unable to sleep, so insomnia's up there with things he's and for a moment he just watched Adele, watched her smile. It seemed genuine for a shimmer of a moment and he caught himself wanting her to be fixed already. Fuck the whole nine yards she's meant to go through. It's fine this way, isn't it?
If he'd take her away again. Let her do the drugs and all that other shit.
It's fine if that meant he'd get to watch Adele sleep.
Fine if he'd be able to watch her dance and be free. Though the smile's authentic, there's still this lingering awareness that it's saddened, not as bright as before, when there'd been drugs and wanting and alcohol.
He's been sick and trying to deny it. Just a cold, so nothing to get dramatic about and Chester ran a hand through his tousled hair, still damp from the rain. Unlucky's maybe it at the forefront.
"Lonely," Chester drawled finally, to absolve the growing awkwardness lingering in the air pending his reply. She looked better. Also paler.
"Jus' wanted to congratulate you, birthday 'n everything," he started even though he's late and the only gift he had's maybe some stray piece of chocolate which's then just as lost as he's. Basically it'd been any excuse to just see her, since the desire too'd grown too large to ignore. "Jus' wanted to see you," Chester confessed after a bit, uncertain then whether to extend their initial greeting to something physical or whether that'd mess up something. He'd heard from Emma that there'd been nightmares plaguing Adele and it didn't take a scientist to figure out what they'd be about.
She probably hadn't told Emma though. Not yet.
Just silly stories about romance.
"How've you been?" Chester asked casually, closing the door behind since he didn't want people seeing he's there, but Chester knew it's inevitable. Emma'd be pissed, but she wasn't around today. Adele'd probably said more to him with just the one question than she'd done to Emma anyway. Maybe jealousy's a part of that.
The room's not much to look at. There's all the standard shit, like a bed, some small stuff like a hairbrush, but then, no laces or ties and so kind of impersonal like that. It's safe though, small and secluded from the world. It felt stifling for some part but after another sniffle and wipe of his white coat's sleeve that's brushed away again.
He's tired. Just, tired with things.
Without meaning too, Chester caught himself looking over at the woman, taking a good look. Just watching her. The way those tresses dangled alongside her face, the way those eyes spoke of too many years to fit the young face they'd been set in. She's pretty. Before he'd reach out though, Chester rubbed at his stinging eyes, burning whenever he shut them with sleep which wouldn't come. It's frustrating like that.
"...shouldn't be here," he said finally, giving an apologetic smirk.
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