#bhqtask02

There has been a change within Brielle Institute and we are still recovering from it. When the riot officers stampeded through the doors and recovered as many patients as they could, everybody experienced something different. Some were taken to the cafeteria, whilst others were on the run - making their own SURVIVAL. But where was your character? Maybe they weren’t in Brielle and arrived after the wreckage...

What we want to know in the task, is how your character was feeling once those doors were knocked down? Were they scared or prepared to fight? Who were they with? What is their own personal recollection of what happened? Members can answer this however they may feel - it could be in an interview style with Doctor Wright himself or they could be thinking about it late at night or they could take themselves back to that day in flashback style and relive it. Perhaps they are haunted by the thought of Lucy comitting suicide in the kitchen. Maybe they saw her body... What if they had their own issues and did not know anything of it? Use this as creative freedom and write whatever was most significant to your character during this event.

If you were not part of the roleplay when this happened, what does your character make of the situation? What do they know about Doctor Wright, taking a rogue Brielle and restoring it as his own? Which characters in Brielle have influenced their thoughts towards the doctor? What are their current thoughts on Brielle Institute and how are they finding their stay so far? What were their own thoughts anf eelings when they entered Brielle and what did they know about it beforehand? Again, feel free to answer this in interview style, thinking about it late or night or they could be in a therapy session.

The commotion of the emergency room woke her up though she was still rather groggy. It was all touch and go, people milling about around her as they barked orders at one another. They seemed to be discussing her, the spoiled teen heiress turned washed-up coke addict laid out on a gurney. She opened her mouth to speak, to let someone know she’d be fine and they could send her home, but her vocal chords were constricted tightly. Her body felt cold but there was still a tingling in the ends of her fingertips. She willed them to move, to respond to her brain signals. Someone needed to listen; someone needed to understand that she didn’t need their help. But no one seemed to care what she thought as she felt them prop open her already slack jaw, Heather fell unconscious again as the rubber touched her lips.

Heather gasped as she was startled awake by the memories of the night that got her admitted. The pounding in her chest synced with the one in her head calling for a few extra seconds to slow down her breathing. The room was dark, the only other sound being that of her roommate sleeping soundly. Her blindly grasped for the phone on her night stand.

3:14 AM

The time flashed before her amber retinas, shocking her system further awake. She blinked a few times and debated whether she should attempt sleep again or stay up once again. With the involuntary thoughts racing around her mind, Heather figured she’d be better off taking a few minutes to pull herself together rather than forcing herself into feeling better.

Sitting up carefully on the age old mattress as to not wake up Noah, Heather mentally counted the days she’d been stuck at Brielle. The number forty-nine sounded right though she expected to be discharged by now. Since she’d been admitted, she was certain seen more than enough psychos to last her a lifetime. There were other patients with serious disorders who need major help with basic functioning and other factors that didn’t matter to her. It’s not like believing in her own worth was means to imprison someone for an undetermined amount of time. Her life had been satisfactory; her parents were hands-off, to put it kindly, so she’d learn to fend for herself and had made a name for herself in town on the back of their reputation.

And if this blemish made any schism in that pristine picture she had painted on her own accord, Wright could be expecting her wrath.

Dickface Wright.

He was the easiest target to blame. She’d heard a few things about him here and there from other patients but most seemed to share the same sentiment - the guy was a grade-A asshole. He seemed to be on the greatest ego trip of them all as he looked down upon the patient over his long, Anglo-Saxon nose. In many ways, he acted like the hospital was the proper fit for his reign as if this were the fall of the Western Roman Empire and he was Odoacer, the first King of Italy. Heather had noticed the destruction he had left in his path, mirroring that of the creation of a new kingdom, but as a queen herself, she’d hope one would have some creativity and restraint. As calculated as he may be, his style was lacking any substance that hadn’t been performed dozens of times by other men with matching features.

The only person she’d met thus far who had anything good to say about the new head of Brielle was Jared. They were Father and Son, a notion truly lost on Heather seeing as she barely had that relationship with her own bloodline. Having only a figure head had been enough for Heather while this greedy tutor had found himself a second one. But this little symbiotic relationship of chosen family had only increased her attraction to the older male, making him nearly irresistible.

- To rule yourself is the ultimate power.

“Listen, man. I don’t know what the FUCK you expect from me.” Jax rolled his eyes as he sat in Wright’s office, legs propped up against the man’s desk obnoxiously. “I’m new, okay? I haven’t even been here for two days.”

It was SO clear that ROBERT wasn’t having any of it. The older man’s hawk-like stare didn’t falter in the slightest. In fact, if anything it only seemed to grow stronger, if it was even possible. However, Jax didn’t even flinch as he stared at the old man. His cocaine high had long since passed, and he was dying to get another fix. Chances were that Dr. Wright knew this, and that was causing Jax’s irritation to go spiking through the roof.

There he went again--blabbing on and ON about what-the-fuck-ever. Reminding him that drugs were strictly prohibited and blah blah blah. Jax honestly couldn’t care less. He wasn’t here to be cordial in the slightest, and listening to this guy talk was giving him a major headache. Rubbing a hand over his face he laughed, kicking his legs off the desk. It was a miracle that Dr. Wright hadn’t shoved his feet off the furniture in the first place. 

“God, do you ever shut up?” He raised a brow inquisitively, a smirk already forming on his lips. “I know you’re acting all high and mighty because you want us to FEAR you, but I’m calling bullshit right here. I’m not scared of you or your punishments, okay? Throw me wherever the fuck you want, I’m not scared.”

CRASH !! BOOM !! Brielle was already out of control and now patients were running around – frantically and chaotically. It was as though Brielle was a castle, under siege and about to be invaded. The explosions GROWLED through the building as the screaming of patients, fearing for their lives echoed through the hallways – high pitch shrills sending even the most INSANE of patients feeling crazier. The hospital was like a sea of FISH – panicking, trying to escape from the nets of doom that they were being caught in – wrapped and gutted like some kind of meal. Eyes BOLTED wide in alarm; hazels trembling as the petite brunette staggering around the corridors was getting pushed around and bumped into by everybody else is was worried. “GET OFF OF ME!” Demetria screeched back, pushing the next person to nudge into her against the wall. What the FUCK was going on here? She had heard murmurs that the building was under attack and really, there was only one thing to do. 

Her vision was so blurred that she couldn’t really see anything. It probably didn’t help that patients were moving at the speed of lightning; travelling past her like a group of formula racers, only the finishing line was FREEDOM. Panic tainted her eyes, muscles turned week until she collided straight into Abigail. “What is going on?” Demetria screamed, TERRIFIED, as she latched onto her roommate and pulled her aside. Of course, Abigail was THRILLED by the fear that was bouncing like electrolytes into the air… Demi couldn’t even remember the conversation – nor could she remember her roommates protests but that didn’t stop her from pulling her fighting friend through the crowds. The next person she saw was Charlie; who was in a panic of his own. No words were exchanged. Not any that she could recollect anyway. Grabbing his palm too, as she yanked Abigail towards the therapy offices was the first thing on her mind and surely enough, she came by one more friend, two more friends… Tristan and then Abrielle. “GUYS – Holmes’ office. Now.” A renegade of bandits – together – stormed through the corridors, dragging one another through the FRENZIED crowds. Forcing everybody through the doors and then safely locking it behind them, where the sounds all seemed to drown out and fill the room with nothing but silence, the brunette forced herself against the oak. Fingers twiddled behind her back, turning the lock as a wave of RELIEF came crashing over her – like a storm at sea… Demetria didn’t really know how else to feel. There was a sickening feeling in her stomach and whilst she did feel an inch of relief, Demi was not NAÏVE… She knew that there was far more trouble to come.