would you bleed for me?

Just nightmares. Eden told herself that all the time but it didn’t make them any less frightening. But she repeated it to herself again anyway, a good patient. “If…if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else right?” she asked, wringing her hands together nervously. “Because they’re memories, of very bad things.” She didn’t know how much she was supposed to say, didn’t know if he could try to make her go somewhere else for her own good. She sniffled again and dried her eyes on her sleeve. “Oh I guess you’re right, sorry, I’ll try.” She was weak, so that didn’t mean anything but she didn’t want to be annoying. “You can’t make me leave right? I don’t want to leave.”

He met those blue eyes when finally getting the therapist’s attention. “You did though. If you’re going to bitch about it, maybe you should pick a different profession.” Gray continued before giving a slight shrug. “That depends, are you going to listen this time? If not I can find someone else.” Not that he wanted to keep talking it out, but he did want to try his best to improve. That meant having to work with the staff.

Pushing his hands together, Elijah dropped his gaze down to the floor. He let his teeth fall down around his lower lip. Biting down to distract himself from memorize that did want to make him cry. “I just-”

‘Let me deal with this guy Eli. I’ll teach him how to talk to us.’

“Stop it. I am trying to think. Please just be quite for five seconds.” Elijah looked to his right. His eyes scanning over Lucifer’s face as he sighed. He watched his other half put a hand on his shoulder and felt the squeeze of comfort. As bad as Lucifer was, he was good to Elijah. He always had been. “I just don’t want to talk about the killings right now.” Eli managed to get out as he looked at the doctor. 

‘I’ll talk about them. I want to. Come on, I have so much fun with this shit and you hate it. Don’t make me take control.’

Elijah pushed his palm to his forehead. “Shut up. I hate it when you get like this. Just shut up.”

“I’m not crying. You’d know that if you looked at me.” This wasn’t the first time the therapist seemed to be barely paying attention. Graham didn’t take it personally, though he would like to leave if time was going to be wasted. “So what, anyway? Doesn’t therapy come with a few tears? You signed up for this job.” 

Cole looked at the doctor, he never understood why these people worked in a place like this. He knew he was supposed to share, to talk, but considering none of these idiots believed him, and half of them did but tried to make him think he was crazy anyway, he was sick of talking. 

“I don’t cry, I was just thinking about all the death and destruction behind me. All the evidence you people try to pass off as the crimes of a lunatic. And you say I’m dellusional.”

“But um, if the nightmares came back then that means I could get the day time panics too right? I don’t know why it happened…” Eden tried to hold back her tears but a couple fell anyway. “I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I can’t tell you everything. Don’t people cry all the time when they talk to you?” She thought that was pretty normal but maybe not.

“I’d rather be Barbie than be myself any day.” Chris was so down on himself, so terribly disgusted with his appearance and his weight, everything about himself, and it all went back to his father. The man was meant to love him and care for him, but all he did was make him feel bad about himself and make him feel useless. Daddy had been held on a pedestal for years, Chris believing that he could do no wrong, until the man took him away from Charles - that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. He was no longer daddy, just dad now, but the habit of calling him the former name still remained. “He’s always been mean to me, you know, always making me feel bad and telling me that I wasn’t good enough - he wanted me to be born a girl.” All of his siblings were girls, every single one of them. He had two older sisters and three younger half sisters - lucky him, he fell right in the middle of it all and was the only boy. Chris, at this point, was too involved in the conversation to notice what the man was doing, instead looking up at the ceiling again and thinking about everything that had happened with his father. “I had a nose job at fifteen,” He said finally, thinking back to try and remember. “I had liposuction younger than that, I think - he didn’t care that I didn’t need it, he made me feel like I did. Didn’t even sign any papers to consent - he did it all after-hours in the office.”

The lack of long hair had the blonde struggling against his restraints. His natural hair, dusty blonde unlike the lighter, almost bleached-blonde hair he usually wore, was quite long, nearly to his shoulders, now, after refusing to have it cut, but not quite as long or as voluminous as the wigs - not what he needed it to be. It fell from its place bunched up and twisted at the top of his head, down to fall where it naturally sat - he wasn’t allowed ponytails or wig caps in this place, so he had to make do with twisting it up. “Fuck!” He hollered, shaking his head to allow his hair to finish untwisting and finally settle into place. It was rare to see him without a wig, especially during the day, so this was odd for him. The next question, though, has the blonde looking at the other, his expression one filled with question. “How do you know that?” He figured that it was quite obvious - it was just that no one had pointed it out before or made a big deal about it. “Because - because my daddy wanted me to, he… Wanted to make me this perfect thing, like a doll or something, you know - he did it all.”

“H-hurt. KILLED.” He didn’t want to repeat it. He didn’t want to repeat that someone was dead because of him. His blackouts could be a problem, but he still couldn’t remember what happened. He never could. The grip on his wrist hurt, but it wasn’t something he hadn’t faced before. He wondered if this man’s grip would bruise like Mr. Blight’s usually did. He tried to put as little pressure as possible on his wrist, keeping in step with the therapist as they headed down a pathway. He hated this. The feeling of not knowing what was coming. The anxiety was eating away at him, his head starting to hurt from the thought of the unknown. He hated this place. He hated the people inside of it just as much. He sat himself down, as far away from the doctor as he could manage, before he sighed. “I’m not lying!” He wasn’t a liar. “I don’t know WHAT I did. Why don’t you people believe me?”

“No. They just send me on errands whenever I deliver flowers to the door. They really do need more staff.”

Damien smirked a little but nodded. He was pretty sure the fact he had keys clipped to his belt along with other helpful utensils was a dead giveaway, but then, he could just be a patient that’s knocked out a guard and stolen them.

“Unfortunately yes, to both those questions. I do, and I am, and if you ask me, they should of forced him to stare at nude paintings, might condition him to look at naked bodies without having to touch himself.”

Or they should of castrated him, but that probably wasn’t something to say in front of a therapist, it would show unwarranted anger and violent tendencies, and Damien was trying to fit in here.

“Actually it’s near the end of my shift, so all my jobs are done, hence why I was running errands. Why? Do you need help?”

Attempting to twist away from Dr. Greene’s grip, Baz made a sound as though all the air had been punched from their lungs, suddenly finding it impossible to breathe as panic gripped at them.

They turned, lashing out at Dr. Greene, giving him a rough shove despite their small size, fueled by adrenaline and the need to get away.

All they managed to do, however, was attract more attention, guards approaching to assist Dr. Greene if he needed it. 

Seeming to realize they were outnumbered, Baz looked up at Dr. Greene. They made a motion with their hands, trying to indicate that they couldn’t - or rather, wouldn’t - speak to him, even as their hands shook damn near uncontrollably, still wanting to run.

a mute. fantastic. ashton always found that making a mute scream and beg was an acheivment but as of late he hasn’t came across one in quite awhile. baz wasn’t one of his regular patients but he assisted in the red level as of late since their staff was lacking and referred medication to the doctors, but all he could really do was correct them and help them in his own way.