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Post by Delilah St.James on Feb 17, 2013 22:31:48 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top]  | [atrb=valign,top] WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE? Delilah sat staring at the box in front of her, her brown eyes beginning to dry out from a lack of bliking. She had never been allowed to watch television before, and now that she was she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of it. The different shades of black and grey dancing across the screen, the occasional pops of reds, blues, and greens, it was beautiful. The constant noise that it was making was a little bit annoying, but she felt as though she could stare at this magic picture box for hours.
Honestly it was the only thing that made her feel secure right now. She had been thrown into a building with over a hundred people she didn't know after spending her entire life basically in solitary confinement. Aside from the occasional visits from her father, that is. She didn't want to look around the room, she didn't want to catch the eyes of anyone, she knew what she was in here for, she could only imagine what some of these other people had done.
'Do you think they're going to hurt us?' Amber was more scared than anyone. She was scared of the nurses, scared of the doctors, scared of the patients. She was scared of everyone, and it was starting to rub off on Delilah.
"No, I don't think anyone here wants to hurt us." She was trying to reassure the young girl, but honestly she had no idea, there could very well be some people there who wanted to hurt them. There was no telling.
For right now all Delilah could do was sit and stare at the television and hope that she didn't catch anyone's attention.
The problem with that is if you're going to talk to yourself out loud, odds are you're going to catch someones attention, which obviously Delilah did. She felt a hand on her shoulder and immediately tensed up. She hated being touched. HATED it.
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Post by Elizabeth Tailor on Feb 18, 2013 16:23:51 GMT -5
Elizabeth jerked her hand back, seeing that the girl had stiffened towards her touch. "Oh! I'm sorry- I just saw you over here alone and I thought you looked sort of lonely-talking to yourself.." She didn't know what she was thinking, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. What if she wanted to be alone, Elizabeth? She thought to herself.
She took a deep breath, and sat down next to the girl, giving her space. She didn't know why she was here or what she had done, and the last thing she wanted to do was make her angry. More angry than she already had, of course. She just couldn't leave her sitting, watching the boring TV alone.
"Look, I just thought that maybe you needed some kindness, because that's kind of rare around here." She shrugged nonchalantly, trying to be casual. Cool, calm, and collected. Yep, that's me. Hah. What a joke. She was silent now, waiting for a reply. She glanced to the girl with her long dark hair and brown eyes. She didn't seem like she belonged here. But then again, neither did Elizabeth.
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Post by Delilah St.James on Feb 18, 2013 23:15:43 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,top] WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE? Delilah stared at the girl as she sat down next to her, flinching slight at the feeling of the couch moving underneath her. She didn't... look dangerous, but if there was anything that Delilah had learned over the years, it's that people don't necessarily have to look dangerous to be dangers. She was in a crazy house after all, this girl could be a crazed serial killer for all Delilah knew, planning how she was going to kill Delilah and what she was going to use.
You're being paranoid. she thought to herself. Unfortunately, she could never think to herself.
What if you're not? There's nothing irrational about the things you're thinking." Amber replied. Of course she would say that.
Alyssa chimed in "Make her get out of here, Delilah, make her go away." but how was she supposed to do that? She didn't want to seem rude to the girl. Closing her eyes for a moment Delilah shut the others out. Maybe she could use some kindness.
"My names Delilah." she said, her eyes never leaving that of the blonde girl sitting in front of her.
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Post by Elizabeth Tailor on Feb 19, 2013 19:44:49 GMT -5
"I'm Elizabeth." Elizabeth smiled, happy that she wasn't being screamed at. The girl seemed nice enough, now that she wasn't so silent. But maybe she was completely psycho, a killer. Or maybe she was like her, just a troubled girl in an awful place. Elizabeth hoped that Delilah didn't notice her weak wrists, and frail skinny body overall. She hated eyes on her for too long.
She cleared her throat, and considered holding out her hand for a shake. She almost giggled. What a silly thought, she said to herself. A formal handshake in an insane asylum, to a girl who clearly didn't like to be touched. She wondered where the idea even came from. The girl looked to be about her age, but still she asked, "..So, how old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" What she really wanted to know was what she did or what she had to get herself in here, but it was too early for that.
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Post by Delilah St.James on Feb 21, 2013 0:11:23 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,top] WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE? How old was she? It should have been the easiest question she had ever been asked. Why doesn't know how old they are? Well, when you spent every day locked up in a dark basement, with no way to tell how much time has passed, things tend to get a little blurry. Delilah hadn't celebrated her birthday since she was about two years old. Her parents didn't believe she deserved the celebrate her birthday, those things were reserved for good little boys and girls who listened to their parents.
Delilah sat for a moment, thinking, trying to remember. Then it hit her, they had told her while she was being processed. "I'm twenty-one" she blurted out awkwardly. It sounded weird to her, she didn't feel twenty one.
She was searching for the socially correct thing to do in this situation. She looked away, rubbing her palms together. "How about you?" Yeah, that seemed right.
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Post by Elizabeth Tailor on Feb 21, 2013 19:19:06 GMT -5
"I'm 18." Elizabeth answered. She smiled politely and hugged her knees to her chest. This girl seemed nice enough. She wasn't pulling her hair or yelling at demons or telling Elizabeth to run or trying to kill her-yet. Twenty-one...she wondered what her life had been like. Did she have an okay childhood? Or one like her own...? She hoped that she had a good life before here, but it didn't seem likely.
"So..what's your last name?" She looked like a Demi, or a Sara, or maybe an Ivy...not really a Delilah..Elizabeth's mind always seemed to wander off like this, guessing and wondering, like a child. It annoyed her sometimes, but it also allowed her to escape for a while. She imagined that "Ivy" was a daughter of four, with two happy parents that loved her. Ivy liked to read and paint, like Elizabeth, and she loved to talk with her older brother. She wanted to be an artist in New York City. Her favorite color was green. She- Elizabeth stopped herself, coming back to reality.
When she was back in her own self, she sat quietly and waited for an answer, playing with her hair.
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Post by Delilah St.James on Feb 22, 2013 19:11:21 GMT -5
Sorry this took so long to get up, I've been sick the past few days [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 450px,bTable][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=valign,top] | [atrb=valign,top] WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING HERE? "It's... St.James.: she replied timidly, tugging on the sleeves of her cardigan in an attempt to keep her scars covered up. She had never had anyone so curious in learning about her, the only person who had questioned her like this before was the psychiatrist who was diagnosing her. Why was this girl so curious about her?
'She's trying to make you think she wants to be your friend so she can kill you when you're not looking!' Amer was so paranoid, but what if she was right? What if all this playing nice was just a clever rouse to lure Delilah into a false sense of security? Her eyes began to dart around the room, searching for anyone who could help her if such a thing were to happen. There really was no one though. Of course they had security guards, but they were more concerned with leaning against the wall to nap than they were with what the patients were doing.
Nurses? No, too busy with gossip. She knew none of the other inmates would help her if something were to happen. She was all alone now. Well, as alone as someone with three other people living inside their head could be.
She mustered up a fake smile "How about you?" she asked, hoping that Elizabeth was just genuinely nice and curious.
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Post by Elizabeth Tailor on Feb 23, 2013 16:40:18 GMT -5
//That's okay! I hope you're feeling better!
Elizabeth was caught off guard by Delilah's scars. Her stomach dropped. No, of course she didn't have a good childhood, it was stupid to hope so. She frowned slightly, feeling sorry for her. She wanted to run her fingers across Delilah's skin and tell her that it's okay now, that whoever did that to her, even if it was herself, would never do it again. She had a friend now. But she also knew that Delilah hated to be touched, so she didn't.
Elizabeth also noticed that Delilah seemed stressed out, scared of something. She didn't know what it could be, I mean there wasn't many high risk patients in the room right now..but maybe Delilah was one? Who knew. Elizabeth didn't care all too much about that honestly, because she knew who needed a friend. This girl did.
Usually she was very shy, but something made her come talk to this girl. So far so good. "My last name is Tailor." She said simply. Why was it so cold in here? She noticed she was shaking. Because of her extreme tendency to never eat, her body could barely keep her warm at all. She noticed that she was shaking. Ignore it, you're shaking because you are fat and you want food. You pig. No eating. No eating. No eating. She coughed out loud to get the thoughts away. Maybe she was going crazy.
"Well...how long have you been here? I have't seen you before."
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