David didn’t belong here. There was nothing wrong with him. This place was becoming a total waste of his time. He had no idea what had been up with Peter. Why he had started acting so odd near the end. Whatever, at least the two of them had managed to keep some order about the group while everyone else lost their heads. Not that David still wasn’t angry at him, just a bit less so than everyone else. Which brought him to one of the things that had been floating around in his head ever since he got dragged here and realized the scale of the place. He measures to keep them from leaving. If the opportunity to leave arose: would he get the others and escape with them? He scowled slightly, resentment flaring up. Right now that would be a no.

Of course, he should have remembered from their tour around this prison that there were bars on all the windows. He wasn’t that dumb or forgetful. No, this was scouting. Find the weaknesses and assess them. Then make a break for it. Since he had been so focused on the window, he almost didn’t hear the other person until they suggested a way to deal with the widow. Crowbar. “Maybe.” Yeah, that was one idea he had. The other had to do with extreme heat or extreme cold, but even then, he didn’t think he’d have any access to either. Unless he got a lighter. “No, I’m currently formulating around fifty-six,” he returned tonelessly, not caring whether the questioner was a patient or a staff member. Rank didn’t matter to him. Never did.

From her placement behind him, Heather could only capture a small section of him. But the longer she stood there the more her interest in the new specimen freshly ejected from the outside world grew. If he was this intently focused on getting out, and motivated, then she’d just have to slip the idea into his mind to take her with him. Most men wouldn’t dream of turning Heather down and she doubted this boy was any different. Lacking any knowledge of his history could present an issue to Heather. Setting someone off wasn’t exactly the best way to get anyone on her side. She had already annoyed a few doctors; she had repress some innate response to frustrate everyone (even if it was fun, sometimes).

“Fifty-six? You’ve got a pretty quick mind there. Care to share any?” Her body slithered over to the portion of wall just next to where he stood. They weren’t close enough to touch but enough for him to notice her presence. She flashed him a bright smile. “C’mon, I won’t tell anyone. I know this place is a fucking hellhole.”

Her gaze was unwavering, though anyone too weak may buckle under its weight, as she held out her hand. It was a friendly gesture, unlike Heather, but she needed him on her side quickly. “I’m Heather and I’m usually not the welcome committee but... Welcome to Brielle. For your sake, I hope your stay isn’t long.” And hopefully he could shorten her stay as well.

Her neck strained at an extreme angle as she tipped back to insure the last drops of alcohol fell onto her tongue. Giggling to herself, Heather rolled the bottle next to the other two on the bathroom floor. She had chosen one in a far off corner of the facility, clear of anyone’s path this late at night; it was both to deter patients and staff. Getting caught by the staff would end all of her fun or, with her current luck, she’d find some fellow alcoholic patient and they’d come fucking drool at her feet until she gave them a measly bottle cap full. Using the sink for leverage, Heather cracked open the last cooler. Feeling the sweet burn in her throat, warming her insides and unlocking her senses in a way nothing else could, she welcomed the fuzziness like an old friend. It was only 4 small bottles of vodka, a snack compared to her usual intake, but it was enough to satisfy her craving for now. Director Sugar’s prices were relatively decent but she wanted to enact some semblance of self control so she wouldn’t run out of fare anytime soon.

Pacing herself was a foreign concept; she paused down the drink for a quick breath as a small belch passed her lips, making her giggle again. There was a moment where she caught a look at herself in the mirror. She was gorgeous per usual but there was a haziness in her amber eyes that clouded her whole image. But against the stained white walls and under the fluorescent lights, Heather was still a goddess among men.

A sigh escaped her lips before she downed the last few gulps of her drinks. She tossed the glasses into the trash and haphazardly tossed paper towel in bundles on top of the heap. It didn’t matter too much how it looked as long as it wasn’t traced to her necessarily. Slipping out the door, Heather peered down the corridor for a few seconds. The coast was clear so to ease suspicions, Heather took off in a stride that mirrored her own but lacked urgency. Her fingers casually twirled through the ends of her hair, eyes scanning the halls. Heather didn’t think she had dropped her composure though she had a little smile permanently plastered on her lips as she walked. For the night, Heather had traded out her usual pair of heels for a pair of sneakers to avoid drawing attention to herself. Each step was effectively muffled, further concealing her presence.

She practically bounced on her toes as her eyes darted around the halls in a mediocre attempt to slink through the halls. Her senses were slightly down, an unusual facet even while drunk, so when she rounded another corner, Heather collided with something hard against her abdomen. “Oof,” she groaned as pain centered on the point of contact. Her fingers lazily rubbed the spot as her eyes hazily raised to the man before her. Her face relaxed into a warm smile. “Guess I didn’t really see you there. My bad.” The sentence was punctuated by a slow, slightly exaggerated shrug. “Need any help?”

“Was that a threat?” Laurie’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossed as she examined the other.  “Look I told you I didn’t mean it, okay. You’d be rushing too if you were me.”

“If I were you?” Heather scoffed at the ludicrous statement. “I take my good sweet time wherever I go because the world waits for me.” As social as she was, other people never made any sense to her. She was incomparable; comparing this girl to herself would be similar to mere mortals searching for some common ground with gods on Olympus. “And are you deaf? You didn’t mean to inconvenience me and yet - here you are. So was it a threat? Maybe. Just take you meds, fucking chill out and everything should be ok.”

    “I don’t have a kinky interest in biting, thanks. Could be possible that you do considering that you’re going on and on though.”

The longer she stood the harder it was for Jared to avert his eyes. His heart began to race, not to an extreme extent but enough to cause him to become aware of his breathing - palms following suit, becoming slightly clammy in the after math.

Thankfully her mouth continued to spew fourth phrases that he could latch onto like a drowning swimmer to a life preserver ‘Have an in with the boss’ he couldn’t help but be slightly offended at the phrase. It wasn’t as if Jared was a staff member who abused his relationship with Robert - yes they were close, but that had little to no effect on the way he carried himself around Brielle and even less of an effect on the way he did his job. She had said she couldn’t relate but how hard was it exactly to put yourself in someone else shoes, honestly was empathy so hard to come by?

He was grateful as she sauntered away and as such let his chromatic orbs rest on her retreating figure for only a moment before he forced them back to the computer screen. Heather was gorgeous and confident - but not very nice it seemed, perhaps that was what Dana had referred to as ‘vibes’ but whatever the case, Jared found himself less interested in the patients mind and more so in her body. In the incredibly male centric part of his mind Jared found himself reliving a porn or two he’d come across - in which the girl was, to put it bluntly, a fucking bitch and had been spouting bratty, self absorbed things only to have her slightly irritating voice silenced with a rock hard member. The tutor had cast Heather in that role in the x rated video of his mind - the member obviously his. There was something inherently satisfying about it of course - shutting her up with part of him, turning her haughty self righteous sentences into garbled gags. Once more Jared dragged himself away from the recesses of his mind - afraid if he stayed present with them for to long he might will them into reality.

With the in mind, Jared checked the clock, it seemed she had been grading papers for longer than he’d intended and the hour was getting rather late - even he found despite the stimulated blood flow throughout his body. Sleep was indeed calling his name and so, mustering his best teacherly tone Jared glanced up from his computer, sapphires dull with the onset of drowsiness. “Thank you for your assistance Heather - but I’ll be packing up in a few minutes - I trust you can find your way back to your room?”

The fogginess of her mind spread rapidly with each passing second. It was inevitable that she’d eventually tire out but she had hoped for better stamina than this. Exhaustion in this moment was like a parasite; a kryptonite to her otherwise impenetrable front. She cursed her mortal reaction, it was always the same downer on all of her best plans. A few more hours and she could have this in the bag. And then she could move on to the next target. It was selfish of her, but when was she not thinking about herself? It was a simple equation of knowing how to take care of her needs better than anyone else and having the know-how to achieve it. Needing a second, or even a third, warm body for her current escapade or fancy was simply a pit-stop along the way. And that’s all Jared was to her anyway.

A new entry on her ever growing list of fancies.

But Heather figured Jared was smart enough to refrain from falling for her; after all, there were over ten years separating them. Older men weren’t off limits for play but anything resembling a relationship traveled directly into mundane territory. The first few months, with the other party lovesick and filled to the brim with compliments, it was glorious. But the moment that puppy love stage ended and the attention faltered, Heather would be gone without a second look. It was fortunate for her that men as soft as Jared never fell for women as sharp as her (unless they were sadists). Her outward projection was either a huge turn on or a slight turn off but she refused to sugarcoat her tongue. If the other other party didn’t find her irresistible regardless then she wouldn’t waste her breath.

The taboo nature of this type of meeting had kept Heather constantly scoping for the perfect teacher to seduce. She’d ruffled some feathers in her past and made men hot under the collar but never had it gone past that. Being back in a classroom reminded her of all the times she had fantasized about various teacher’s taking her at school. She’d make them feel like they had the upper hand, playing into the age old fantasy about a young school girl being deflowered by her teacher (or tutor/professor; all sufficient substitutes). Each thrust would be magnified by danger and desire, a cocktail not meant for the faint at heart. A chill ran up her spine as she imagined herself in the role of student and Jared as teacher; quickies in his classroom and long, overstimulating sessions during private lessons. And after all was said and done, turning the tables on him would be easy as pie.

Besides, blackmail was a huge turn on.

Jared’s question burst through the barrage of thoughts crowding her mind. She forced a smile, straightening her back to deny any hint of tiredness. “Of course, it is getting late after all.” Heather quickly reshuffled her papers and adjusted her shirt. Checking around her desk, as if she had dropped something, Heather pulled her shirt down a bit further. It wasn’t far enough for the cups of her bra to show but a few millimeters of lace peaked out along the rise of her pushed up bosom. Satisfied, Heather stood from her seat, clutching the papers and the borrowed pen. Her voice was laced with the last ounce of charm she could muster as she leaned over his desk again. Laying out his sheets delicately next his arm, she made direct eye contact as she leaned into the desk. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jared. And I’m always here to help, if you ever need me again. Room 401.” A slight giggle left her as she gave him a small wave and glided to the door.

Pulling the door wide, Heather stopped in her tracks. Over her shoulder she called, “Goodnight and sweet dreams.”

    there was something about the other that immediately radiated a sense of… familiarity. whether it was the pushed back shoulders, the upturned chin, glassy eyes with a complimenting pout; this girl was the embodiment of what audrey would have become had she have been taken all those years prior. tall, gorgeous, aura dripping with pride; audrey almost felt as if she was gazing upon her younger self, and all she wanted to do was grab her by bony arms and tell her to RUN.     alas, a distorted part of her mind allowed her to remain… why run from the inevitable?? she had spent years dismissing simon’s love and advice, disregarding him, promising to herself that she could never love him and yet; alas. here she was missing his company, wishing that there was someone here who understood what it was like to wield the power of LIFE and DEATH between your own two hands. when the other addressed her, her name a securing answer to a question audrey hadn’t even noticed her mind inquired, audrey folded her arms over her chest. ❝ court ruled in favor of clinical insanity, ❞ audrey informed the other, as if they were old friends, as if she was making up an excuse for why she hasn’t been around like oh, i’ve been so busy or oh, i was kidnapped. ❝ psychological evaluation proved nothing i did was of my OWN volition & that i was mentally unfit to be sent to prison, so… here i am.❞

An average person would probably be scared while discussing the sentencing with a known killer. They’d feel a chill run up their spine and goosebumps glide over their skin as the other stared them down with a blankness unbeknownst to the masses. They’d wade into the conversation with caution and restraint as to not set them off again. As if every aggressor was a ticking time bomb constantly waiting for a wire to be cut. But luckily, Heather was far from average.  She nodded periodically at the appropriate times during her statement, easing into this strange realm of comfort around the other girl. It was already odd enough having her jump out of a two dimensional image and into flesh and bones before her.  But maybe there was a unseen red string connecting every young, rich bitch - the more fucked up, the better.

One corner of her lips upturned in a sort of friendly smile. “Well, I suppose that’s at least some reprieve - orange would totally wash out your complexion,” she joked. Though it wasn’t a lie. Big, highlighter orange unisex body suits were kind to no one. In perspective, Brielle wasn’t the worst possibility but was still a hole in the wall Heather wouldn’t be caught dead in. “I know this place isn’t the Hamptons but... I suppose it has it’s benefits.” The sentence was punctuated by a shrug as she noted her few months. Maybe it was just a Heather “thing,” never bothering to look at the destruction behind her, taking rules as suggestion and disregarding consequence on grounds of her invincibility. And if none of it caught back up with her, she’d be fine. Conquering a new kingdom as a pastime wasn’t half-bad either.

It was then that she took in the full reality of her outfit; one so large the other girl was practically drowning in it. The look was moderately pathetic and was finished off by a hand-me-down feel that no one of their stature should have to endure. Before she could stop herself, Heather blurted, “You know - I don’t usually do this - but if you need some clothes, like shorts and a t-shirt, until your stuff arrives...” Heather waved her hand, lightly eyeing her frame again. “I’m sure I have something that will fit you.” Her face had twisted back into its usual haughty scowl as if it pained her to show another person kindness. She was equally genuine and uncomfortable; an unusual combination for Heather. 

Payson was tense, a likely combination of being tired and abruptly waking up, and being genuinely concerned for the other’s presence at her doorstep at such an hour. Regardless, the blonde was concerned; she was a caring person, she was going to worry. But as the other spoke, a sigh passed over her. It was just…. Heather shenanigans, nothing urgent. “I hate you,” she joked, rolling her eyes with a smile, now that she was officially awake and had accepted her fate. “Is it bad that I would probably pay you to do that…? Obviously I’d want to record it. Although I feel like you’d get in trouble… a lot of trouble……. I don’t know what they’re do, but I can’t say I’d want to find out either,” but of course, there was a part of her that desperately wanted it to happen, the scenario unfolding in her foggy mind. “Baking, on the other hand….. baking sounds much safer. Are we even allowed in the kitchen right now?” she wondered then, having not done this kind of thing in here before. Who was she to deny an opportunity like this? She had started to come to terms with her attendance of Brielle…. might as well make the most of it. “What’s with the late night baking urge?” she questioned quietly, silently shutting her door behind her as the pair headed down the hallway.

The inner tornado billowing through her body was beyond anything Heather could understand. She knew what emotions were, objectively, but had never fully experienced an emotion she hadn’t faked. Anger came easily, for one, but the others were a completely different story. Two years back, while at a funeral, Heather had actually shrugged the whole thing off like it was just a bad test grade. Her reactions were never red flags in her mind because she had briefly watched her parents do the exact same. But they were mostly hands off and bought her love through gifts they thought made up for it. So now that she was stuck at Brielle, Heather was almost forced to acknowledge her own thought process. The same cheeky smile still adorned her features as she walked beside the other girl. “For the record, I know you love me because who else tries to keep this place interesting. And a little bit of trouble every now and then can be... exhilarating. You ever give it a try, Pays?”

Heather quickly checked down the corridor and with no sign of any security guards, she continued down their path. There was a part of her that debated revealing a facet of her childhood to Payson, minuscule in the grand scheme, but it was important to her. “I’ve always liked baking and cookies taste better at 3 am. Anyone telling you otherwise is a liar.” She bit her tongue before she went too far. The truth was, there was a singular memory in her bank where she remembered baking alongside her Mother. The only time she had ever been given her undivided attention. Baking had come naturally to her, as much did, but ever since that day, Heather had been itching to grasp that feeling again. “It’s also,” she added, “a good stress reliever in lieu of illegal activity. Well... not all illegal but I wasn’t in the mood for my other stress reliever.”

It was rather amusing seeing the girl sit in his leather chair. For a small fact he knew he was being played. The girl might have seen him with a box filled with book underneath his arm, but she probably didn’t spot him with the first two boxes. Boxes that were partially emptied on the shelves just beside her. So even without his little plaque he could see his worn out favorite books on the shelves. “Mmmm that’s- Peculiar… Well I might have to wander to find my own then…” He turned around walking back towards the door. “I do have to say you have a pretty interesting taste in books. The making of Assisi, Painted Glories big fan of art from the renaissance?“ He asked with a small smirk just before turning back to her, his face back into his curious mask.

Her eyes glanced to the side, realizing how unobservant she had been. In the back of her mind, she assumed it must have been the last inhabitants of the room because she didn’t think the doctors were particularly thorough. And she couldn’t easily fake her knowledge because her memory of the Renaissance was a minimal. She recalled an overwhelming amount of religious art (boring) and that was about it. It was a rookie mistake, going in without a script, but regardless, her fun wasn’t over. Heather’s insatiable desire to toy with people had been tickled and wasn’t yet kept at bay. Still enraptured by her own performance, Heather turned her chair slightly to give him an even better view of his books. “Oh, these old things? Part for decoration, part for some light bedtime reading. My true passion is the Victorian Era - there’s just something about their lace appliques and elegant simplicity that satisfies my palette.” It wasn’t exactly a lie - she did truly believe the Victorian Era was stunning. But how far her knowledge could stretch was questionable.

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.