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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 2, 2013 13:31:47 GMT -5
The art room was surprisingly quiet as James sat in front of an easel towards the far end of the room. He was given a pencil and a larger rubber eraser, the only tools he'd asked for. Normally he would've just gotten a set of paints and spent hours on some ridiculous, abstract painting that he'd end up screwing up somehow. So this time, he'd decided that sketching may be a better decision. Pencil could be erased, paint not so much.
After a long stare at the 8x10 canvas, James began to sketch, the rough outlines of a giant tree becoming more obvious with each stroke of lead. He drew from memory, thinking mainly of the big tree in the front yard of his childhood home. James had spent hours upon hours each day in that tree. His dad even helped him build a small tree house when he was 9. It had been one of the only times they spent actual time together, aside from hockey.
James recalled a sunny day, sometime long ago. The sun was settling low in the sky, ready to retire behind the horizon. James was laying under the giant tree, reading his favorite book. He heard the front door open, and saw his mother emerge from the house. This usually meant it was time to come in, but this time she walked over to where he sat, and began reading to him quietly.
He could remember her voice crystal clear, like a beautiful song. Soon reality crashed around him, as he realized where he was. Mother was gone; dead. James breathed heavily, feeling the walls crashing in on him. He closed his eyes, calming himself down. When he opened them, he saw the tree he'd been drawing was half finished, and looked so much like the one he could see in his head. James knew he'd have to finish the drawing, and maybe even see if one of the guards would let him keep it in his room. Once he'd calmed down, James began drawing again.
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 2, 2013 14:37:26 GMT -5
 
The afternoons here at Ravenwood turned out to be just as depressing as the mornings were. They had asked Natalie to play piano for everyone, but she had refused. She didn't feel very melodic and was just downright rebellious after the way she'd been treated- stuffed into a small cold room with another girl and forced to share herself so she would have no privacy whatsoever. It made her sick to think she had to stay here, in this place, with these people. And by people, she meant the staff who looked at her like she was something to eat, rather than someone to help.
Instead of playing piano, they shoved her into an open room with easels and supplies- like a dingy art studio of some sort. She was placed next to a young man with dark hair who had nothing but a pencil and an eraser to work with. The man offered her a choice of what utensils she wanted, so she chose a medium size paintbrush and an assortment of bright colors. She had never been the artsy type, so this activity did not particularly appeal to her.
She picked up the brush and dipped it into a bright yellow paint and pushed it over the canvas in wide random strokes. She wasn't sure what she was making, and she didn't have any clue in her mind what sort of picture she wanted to create. She tired mixing the yellow with a little bit of blue to make a spring green sort of color and painted that onto the canvas as well, her strokes moving in the opposite direction as the yellow. It became clear in her mind that she was making a picture for her parents. She missed them dearly and was making her sort of version of their favorite Monet. It wasn't very good, but they would know what it was.
She peeked over at the boy's work beside her, not wanting to seem rude. She couldn't help staring at the magnificent tree he was sketching. She looked back at her own "art" and felt somewhat pathetic. "That looks wonderful," she said with a small smile, trying to be friendly. If there was one thing she knew about people, it was that everyone liked to be complimented. And the boy next to her did deserve the compliment... his work was amazing to her.
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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 2, 2013 15:52:42 GMT -5
Once back and concentrating, James saw the tree take even more life. His strokes were less erratic, and now were measured and precise, adding to the detail of the work. He'd been so concentrated, he'd hardly noticed that there were more patients in the small room. He hadn't really stopped to see who was near him.
Which was why the small voice directed at him made him jump and look to the easel beside him. James silently measured up the woman beside him, noticing she was quite pretty. Talented, as well, though not quite an artist. He spoke back just above a whisper, his deep voice almost shocking in the harsh quiet. "Thank you."
James leaned in closer, really observing her work. He saw a resemblance somewhere, something he couldn't place. Though it definitely had some sort of emotion, a sentiment to it. He smiled at her, a small and friendly gesture. "Yours is very good too. Different, but in a good way." He turned back to his own work, now pleased where his was going.
Pleased was a good word for how he was feeling as well. James was surprised at himself, he'd interacted with someone without wanting to hide under a rock or go back to his room. He'd been sleeping better as well, which lent itself to his better mood. He felt as if he was finally making it to a little bit better of a place then he had been as of lately, despite nearing an episode not long before. Then again, he was used to the depression and reclusion coming in waves. All he wanted to do was enjoy the good mood while he could.
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 2, 2013 19:02:07 GMT -5
When the boy spoke, his voice was low, barely audible, but she liked it. It was soothing to her, which gave her a bit of a fright since she wasn't sure why his low tone would give her such a feeling. She supposed a normal person, well that is to say a person more normal than her would have found his voice harsh, but Natalie liked it. She took a deep breath and smiled at him, her light hair flipping behind her as she looked at him. He looked like the type of person she might classify as a "punk" but the fact that she met him here, in this place, told her that maybe he was unique. Maybe he was a troublemaker. Maybe he wasn't just another stereotype.
"Thank you... I'm really not much of an artist," she said, then mentally kicked herself being being self-depreciating. Her mother kept telling her to love herself and speak and think about herself in the way she would want everyone else to think of her. The task seemed impossible.
After a few moments, she changed the subject off of herself. "How long have you been here?" she asked the boy quietly. She wasn't sure if they were allowed to talk or not... the room was pretty quiet so she was sure to keep her voice low just in case.
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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 2, 2013 19:23:11 GMT -5
James grinned again, her conflicted expression intriguing him. It was like she was having a strange inner-conversation, and he liked that. He focused on her work, the smile still present on his face. "Well I think it's great."
Again, he started back on his drawing, a little disappointed at the lack of color. I'll have to make one in color next time... he thought, biting his lip. He did that when he focused, a strange habit he'd discovered since he'd been at the asylum. He used to chew on his lip ring, and now it was just the healing hole that he chewed on.
He stopped tracing the small details when the girl spoke. He waited a moment, then replied in a hushed tone. "A little over ten months... Yourself?" More like ten months, a week, and three days. James started counting the first day he got there, and wouldn't stop until he got out.
He shook the strange dark mood that came along with that thought, and smiled back to the girl. "I'm James. What's your name?" He pivoted in his stool to face her, trying to take in all he good of her. He hoped he might make a friend after all.
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 3, 2013 1:34:50 GMT -5
The boy had said that he thought her painting was great, and Natalie began to feel anxiety. Was he just saying that to be nice? She looked over her work and quickly decided her was only being kind. Her painting was horrible and this boy was just trying to cheer her up. She smiled, liking that she had met someone who seemed to be somewhat normal so far, but she also started to feel depressed over her lack of skill compared to his. Why was she so well rounded in other areas such as music, writing, and french... yet she couldn't make a perfect picture?
She looked over at him and smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly. She was embarrassed and flattered, and tried to hide the soft blush her cheeks now held. She noticed he was chewing on his lip, and was curious about why. Was he feeling anxious too? She couldn't help wondering suddenly why he was here. He told her his stay had extended over ten months, and her eyes widened. She couldn't even imagine being stuck here that long. "I've only been here a couple days," she told him. Truthfully she hated it here. She had been brought here under the impression that Ravenwood was a spa and rehabilitation center so her stay had not exactly been warm or welcoming like she'd hoped.
The short fat nurse walked by, the one who had her beaty little eyes on Natalie, and she shuddered. The woman was watching her, she could feel her eyes burning into her back. She felt like screaming for the woman to leave her alone, to stop watching her, but she didn't want to land herself into solitary confinement. She continued to paint a pond with light blues and greens, now trying to turn her artistic failure into something worth keeping.
"Nice to meet you James. I'm Natalie," she said, giving him a warm smile. She turned herself to face him as well and really saw him. His face was appealing, though there was a hole in his lip, possibly from a piercing? She liked that he had tattoos.. he was pleasant to look at. "What are you here for?" she asked, hoping this was standard polite conversation here. She didn't want to seem rude, but the boy seemed so normal to her. She felt like he hardly belonged in a place like this.
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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 3, 2013 21:16:58 GMT -5
Setting his pencil down, James found himself just observing the girl (whom he now knew as Natalie) paint, mixing shades of greens and blues, adding what he figured was a lake or a pond. The long and measured strokes mesmerized him, and he smiled contently. He had always held a love of beauty and art, unsurprisingly a trait he gained from his mother.
James had always seen his mother as a source of beauty and strength, which in a lot of ways was what gave him his respect for women and art. Another thing that got him bullied in high school. On the hockey team, he was usually pretty open about that sort of thing, but he was considered a jock. Once he was different, loving your mother and respecting women became gay.
He shook the angry thought and looked back to Natalie, realizing he'd spaced out. "I'm sorry, I totally zoned out. Three days? You must be dying. I remember my first days here... they were absolute hell." James looked up into her eyes, a smile greeting her. "No worries though, I'll look out for you." He winked playfully, to show he wasn't trying to come onto her or anything.
James picked his pencil back up, wanting to focus on something else while he spoke about himself. The question she asked was perfectly viable in a place like that, but he still felt almost self conscious. Not to mention, she was pretty and seemed so normal already. "That's a very pretty name, Natalie." He smiled, and went on. "Actually, I'm here because of extreme depression and self harm. Tried to off myself, and the whole nine yards. Anyways, what about you?" He tried to keep things blunt and nonchalant, trying to repress any of the pain that came along with talking about his issues.
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 4, 2013 1:02:54 GMT -5
Natalie smiled at James, but her smile quickly turned to a frown as he seemed to be deep in thought about something that was troubling to him. She pursed her lips and continued to work on her pond and the grassy setting next to it. She looked back at him a couple times, and though his face was concentrated, she found him attractive. His icy blue eyes seemed dark, but there was a sort of sweetness to them, or at least she thought so.
She nodded at his explanation. She had figured he was just thinking of something he didn’t want to talk about- and who would blame him? She was nothing but a complete stranger. “It’s just been… different than I thought. I’ve never been anywhere like here before,” she told him, a defeated and sad tone to her voice. She knew she would have to accept this place as her new reality… and maybe a new friend would make it easier to cope. She gave James a warm smile at his words, and thought that maybe she wouldn’t mind his looking out for her- innocent or not. She winked back playfully and continued to grin. Truthfully she hadn’t smiled this much in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Really? I’ve always loved it because my Nana picked it out for me,” she said in response to her name. Her Nana was the one person she was closest to in this world and she had died last year. Nat’s mother often wondered aloud if Nana’s death had triggered the problems that Natalie had, but Nat would never dream of pinning her problems on Nana.
And then James told her that he’d tried to kill himself, and her eyes widened. She couldn’t imagine what would make him wish to do that to himself, but knew it would be rude to ask. She wondered if maybe he would tell her another time, and knew she would be happy if he wanted to open up to her. “Depression… I know all about that. I’m here for that and extreme paranoia and anxiety. I get these really bad panic attacks and it feels like the world is closing in on me… they have me on six different meds I think,” she told him. She had only seen a counselor once since being admitted, and it was her initial examination.
“I’m twenty one… how old are you?” she asked curiously. She thought he didn’t look a day over sixteen, but she had never been a good judge of age.
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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 4, 2013 1:53:12 GMT -5
James smiled innocently, absorbing the comfort he found in Natalie. He was surprised he'd gotten along so well with her, she was nothing like the rest of the crazies that haunted the dingy hell hole. She was like a little lamp, brightening just that part of the room. He enjoyed it.
With a small grin, James turned to Natalie. "This place is definitely different, it'll suck you in if you aren't careful. No need to hold me to anything, I'm a man of my word." He turned back to his drawing, adding more details in the bark, tracing familiar patterns. He once knew every inch of that tree, like his favorite book.
James looked back to her, sadness for her tugging gently at his smile, but he didn't dare let it fall. It wouldn't have been fair for her. He nodded, understanding completely.
"I know exactly what you're talking about. I was always told that depression and anxiety went hand in hand, but I never had that problem. My mother, however, definitely did. She would have these awful attacks over sometimes the silliest things. It embarrassed her so much, but we always told her it was another reason why we loved her so much. She was the strongest woman I've ever met." James sighed, setting his pencil down again.
He turned to face Natalie, watching her paint again. He almost laughed, she'd seemed so much older than she really was. "Hmm, an older woman!" James laughed, poking fun at her playfully. "I'm nineteen, actually. I know, I look like I'm 14." He laughed again, more at himself than anything. "So what's the story behind this painting, if you don't mind my asking?"
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 4, 2013 4:00:59 GMT -5
Natalie did not want to brag about the wealth of her family. She was afraid to tell anyone about the failure she was to her parents and the despair that comes from such things when you're raised in a society of well bread, wealthy citizens striving for perfection over their neighbors, and everyone knows you're the one who fucked up. Everyone looks at your family differently once you've shamed them- and no one ever looks at you the same. In a way, maybe being here did everyone a favor. Her parents could get on with their lives now that their only daughter was put away... far away where she couldn't cause them any more embarrassment.
"I don't want to be here long. I just want to get my help, pass their little tests, and go home," she said, her tone sounding more harsh than she meant it to. But she hoped James would understand her thoughts, having once been new as she was now. "Thank you," she said warmly in regards to his watching out for her. She appreciated the thought and hopefully would rest a little easier knowing at lest one person cared.
As James spoke of his mother, Natalie began to feel his story pulling at his heartstrings. He had obviously lost her, but the fact that he admired her made it more sad in a way. It must be hard to grieve the loss of a parent. She stopped her painting and looked down at the dull floor. "How long ago did she pass?" she asked, wanting to reach out a suportive hand to his. She held back so as not to invade his personal space, but her expression was one of apathy, not sympathy or pity. "Sometimes I freak out over the smallest things. It can be really humiliating," she said, feeling sad knowing that someone so dear to her new friend had suffered in ways Nat could identify with.
She looked over at his tree and thought it looked real. The boy had a real talent, whether he realized it or not. She picked her brush back up and began to blend some of the colors. "Nineteen, eh? Well you should enjoy looking young.. it's better than looking old! Can you believe I've never been out drinking before? I never got much of a chance," she said, knowing that most people her age spent a lot of time in bars. She had been so busy between teaching dance classes, taking a few college courses, and doing her own dancing that she hadn't gotten much time for social outings. Now she would have to wait even longer.
She tilted her head thoughtfully as she looked at her painting. It really wasn't bad for it being her first time. "I'll tell you if you tell me, deal?" she asked, a smile on her pink lips. "At first I didn't know what I was doing. Just randomly putting strokes of color here and there... and then I realized what it looked like. My parents have a Monet painting hanging in the foyer of our... house. They really love that painting, so I thought I'd try to replicate it to hang in my room... maybe make it feel just a tiny bit like home," she explained. It probably sounded really corny, but she missed it so much. She put her head down, her eyes tearing up as she thought of this place compared to the warmth of her home. She closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows, taking a deep breath in and out to help calm the anxiety and sorrow. The last thing she wanted to do was cry like a big baby in front of James.
She wanted to quickly change the subject, so she asked about his sketch. "Your turn. How is this tree significant to you?" she asked, feeling the tears subside. She took another deep breath and waited for his response.
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Post by resurrectthesun on Feb 4, 2013 10:36:53 GMT -5
The tree was nearing complete, and James was discouraged by that. He didn't want to leave his new friend Natalie, that was for sure. In an effort to prolong their visit, he began to add things into the background. He started roughing out the structure of his childhood home, hoping he could get it right without ruining the beautiful tree. He spoke as he did so. "As much as I wish I could tell you that you can do that, and maybe you'll be done here in just months, I know that I can't. Things here are always more permanent... I haven't really seen anyone leave, to be honest." James looked up at her, genuine sadness filling him. She seemed so fragile, the last small flower in the middle of nuclear fallout. He tried to regain himself, not wanting to upset her too much.
For some reason, he was comfortable talking about his mother to Natalie. He felt like she could understand, or at least sympathize with him. And for once, he didn't feel like he needed to slink away and hide in his room. Still, his mother was a hard subject. Immediately, he felt a lump in his throat. "Not quite 5 years... ovarian cancer. She was the greatest person in my life, and sort of the reason I ended up here. Well, I don't blame her of course. I just kinda lost it when she died..." He swallowed the lump down, looking up to her with a reassuring smile. "It's just another thing that makes you unique. It may be an obstacle, but it's part of you. I'm sure someone will love you even more because of it." He smiled down at the floor, hoping it might make her feel better in the least bit.
James chuckled, looking back up to Nat. "That's no fun! Although, the thought of going out and drinking was never really enticing to me. Small parties with a few friends is the best way to do it." He grinned and added, "You know, in theory... Not like I would know anything about that." He winked at her, obviously joking. In all honesty, he drank a lot once he got in with the weird kids. They partied the best, he always thought. And being sober was never a good time for James.
He grinned. "Deal!" He listened intently, knowing exactly how she felt. He placed his hand lightly on her arm, hoping not to startle her, but possibly comfort her. James always felt the need to comfort those around him, it wasn't fair that they had to be so sad.
James shook the thought off, slowly bringing his hand back. He looked to the tree in front of him, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Actually, this was the tree I used to play in as a kid. It was my favorite place to be actually, and my mom always encouraged it. My dad even built me a tree house one summer. And sometimes, mom would come out and read to me. My favorite book was The Giving Tree, and she told me that that tree was my giving tree. Man, what I'd give to go see it again..."
He trailed off, biting his lip. The lump was back in his throat and he tried his hardest to swallow it down. "So, what did you do for fun before you got here?" James distracted himself, starting back up on the drawing.
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natalie finch
low-risk patient
LEST WE DROWN IN THE DARKNESS WITHIN.
Posts: 28
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Post by natalie finch on Feb 4, 2013 15:39:35 GMT -5
Natalie's heart sank slowly into the pit of her stomach as James told her he'd never seen anyone leave- and he'd been here almost a year. And his sad eyes just made her feel so hopeless about ever seeing her home again. She knew her students needed her, but here she was... locked up in a place where everyone is crazy and no one leaves. Her outlook had become quite bleak, but she would have her first session with a counselor tomorrow and hoped that she would have some sort of plan in mind to help Natalie get out of this prison. She briefly wondered if James had such a plan, but knew from his eyes that he felt just as hopeless as she did.
As he talked about his mother, she could feel his sadness. Clearly his mother had been one of the brightest spots in his life and it was just a tragedy that he lost her at such a young age. It's no wonder he tried to kill himself... it must still be so difficult. "I lost my Nana last year and my parents say that's when my anxiety and depression got really bad. I would never blame it on her death, but they do," she told him sadly. The thing about being here, she was learning, was that everyone had a sad story. And though she wished no one had a sad story, she was glad that she and James could identify with each others pain.
"My parents dont think it makes me unique- they say it makes me a liability. They dont want me to ruin their business by scaring off the partners. They don't want our neighbors and especially their church people to think they've failed in some way," she told him, her eyes not quite meeting his. She thought back to what her mother had said as they were leaving to come to Ravenwood. "Your father and I think it's for the best of everyone if you spend some time reflecting on your troubles. We can't have your... indescretions... ruining the life we worked so hard to build." She had then proceeded to reassure Natalie that her trust fund would still be available to her when she came home. As if that would be some sort of consolation. "I hope you're right... but that someone would have to be here then. Since it looks like I won't be leaving for a long time," she said with a small smile, her eyes meeting his. She quickly looked away, almost embarrassed.
Natalie listened very thoughtfully to James' story about the tree. "I love that story," she said about The Giving Tree. "Well maybe if we ever get out of here, you can show the tree to me sometime. We'll see just how accurate that sketch is," she said playfully. She was smiling, genuinely hoping that one day her new friend would show her this exact tree if either of them ever got the chance. She had hoped to brighten his mood just a bit.
Natalie went back ot her painting as James began to sketch again. Hers was nearly finished, but she kept tinkering with it just to have an excuse to stay. "I taught dance classes in my own studio, and I also danced professionally as a ballerina," she told him, wishing there was a way she could go back to dancing. When she was dancing, she stopped worrying about the world and her depression. It was like she was transported to another place and time where everything was perfect. Ballet was like her own personal escape. "What do you think you'll do when you get out of here?" she asked him. She hoped he would feel like there was hope for a life after Ravenwood. She did like it so very much when he smiled, and would like to see it again.
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