#asylum meme

My Character Has Been Committed To An Asylum. Send Me ☤ For Their Reaction To Yours Visiting Them.

My character has been committed to an asylum. Send me ☤ for their reaction to yours visiting them.

Spike sat in the corner of his cell, strapped in a straight jacket, his eyes looking glazed over.  He’d been drugged, the dosages maxed out, since it was run by human beings.

   It wasn’t the first time she had come to Arkham to see Murphy. 

   She had come just about every day since the accident.  Since she had failed to save her. The mission had gone bad fast, and it had been bad to begin with.  Briar knew she should have stayed with Murphy and kept her in her sights, but she hadn’t. And in failing to do so, she failed Murphy. 

   The doctors gave her the same warning at every visit. She’s dangerous. Bruce warned her too, that spending too much time with Murphy could cause her to develop delusions that perhaps her friend was getting better. She was smarter than that, people didn’t get better from Joker’s gas, they got worse. They become exactly what was sitting in front of her.

  And Briar hated knowing that. 

  “I’ll be fine.” She wanted them to leave, maybe she could get some sense from Murphy if there wasn’t an audience. The words of the poem caused an almost imperceptible  flinch, Bruce had told her a million times to keep her emotions under control when in Arkham. And now it was a fight. 

    There was laughter in her head. So much laughter. It hurt some days. It always made her laugh. The jokes didn’t stop. Little limericks and dirty jokes. Funny puns and dark, dark humor.

    What’s Scarecrow’s favorite fruit?Boo-berry.         No fair. No fair. Knew the answer. No fair.

    She grabbed at her hair. No, they’d put her in the jacket again. No, no, no. “Hey! My nose itches!” That was what she wanted to say, but all that came out was an onslaught of laughter that left her sides aching.

    “She’s dangerous, Ms. Gale.”

    Ms. Gale. She knew that name. Dorothy wasn’t blonde. “Shut up,” she giggled. “Briar, save me. Save me, Briar.” Only more giggles. Two words and nothing more.

    Her smile suddenly shifted into a grin, her red lips spread wide in a grin.

“Ms. Gale, a wielder of fire and ice,        Thinks we used to be oh so nice.    Let us get gassed,                And it broke us so fast.            Now we’re locked up real tight like a vice.”

This was embarrassing.  She was in there for talking about the Doctor.  At least, that was what she figured she was in there for.  No one seemed to give her a straight answer.  When the Doctor figured this out, there was no way that he was going to stand for this.  He’d get her out of there, she was sure of it.

When she had been told that she had a visitor, the first thing she thought was that it was going to be the Doctor. Boy, was she wrong.  At first, she didn’t recognize the girl, but, the more she thought about it, the more she remembered.  She had been a friend at the shop… mere days before it had blown up what felt like a lifetime ago.  Alex, right?  

//I hope this is okay; it makes an assumption or two, but if you don’t like that we can put it down to Lucy’s delusions or remove it//

She honestly thought she’d been doing so well. People had opened their hearts to her slowly, began to trust her again. The stigma of having psychiatric issues was just being lifted, and she was so happy, and that feeling had been so alien for so long. Not that she hadn’t been happy before, but the feeling of happiness without it dipping right back into depression or anxiety or disorder was so familiar yet so distant. Contentment had been mostly achieved. Old friends tried to rebuild their bridges and new friends gave her such amazing support.

So what went wrong?

What threw her back into that chaotic disorder she used to practically embody? What gave her that shove back over the edge? What undid all of her hard work and saw her locked back up, back in a plain white cell with just a hay cot and a closed window and herself for company? 

And then he walked in, and it became clear. Snorting confrontationally, she glared at the draconequus.

Discord.