* VICTIM / INSANE

:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((

i was just curious thooooo :(((((((((((((

and, okay, i admit…….i went looking just bc im PsychicTM and COULD.

but, still.

:((((((((((((((((((((

yes, Alexander definitely would and has.  it’s happened on more occasions than Roxana would probably care to admit.

when roxana calms down, her sadness clear on her face, alexander moves over to the bed where she sits. he reaches into the pocket of his doctor’s coat, pulling out a bottle of pills. not sedatives, but something to make her a little more compliant to the lethe program and his words. “take these,” he says, shaking two out into the palm of his hand. “you’ll feel better soon, my persephone.” hand holds the pills out towards her, waiting for her to take them and swallow them. “everything will be alright, my love. i promise. you just have to trust me. you did once, why not now?”

the fact that she agreed to the date seemed to make him feel  happier  than he usually was. the smile on his face is genuine, truly, not the one he plasters on his face for patients and their families. and he doesn’t even really know her. not yet anyway.  (  there’s a feeling of soul remembrance, he supposes. as if some part of him had been looking for her. )  “lucky guess,” answers he. “i happen to love italian as well,” he ads on. “how about i pick you up at 8? or do you suppose that’s too late for a date.”

          “ You don’t happen to have a lighter on you somewhere, do you? ” In all honesty, the reason that Roxana Elizabeth had approached had little to do with a lighter, though she had left hers back in her hotel room.  It had everything to do with the fact that she could SENSE that he had experienced Derry’s darkness firsthand and she needed to know more.  Everyone else seemed to be blissfully unaware, oblivious.  But, not him.  Call it her newly acquired psychic senses, but she could just tell.  However, she couldn’t very well just come right out of the gate with that now, could she?  How AWKWARD.

          “ Are you from Italy? ” Roxana Elizabeth realized after the question left her lips that it was absolutely stupid.  OBVIOUSLY, she was from Italy.  The accent gave her away.  Shaking her head and chuckling under her breath, she waved a hand dismissively as if to say ‘forget that I asked that’ before clutching her notepad to her chest, “ I’m Italian, so it’s nice to meet someone from there. ” Then, a stray hair was pushed behind her ear and she smiled widely at the customer, “ What can I start you off with? ”

          “ Who...who are you? ” Roxana questioned, blinking drowsily up at the visitor.  She had never seen her before, had no clue who she was.  Though, granted, her memories had been WIPED, for the most part.  But, she felt no stirring of familiarity.  She was tired, could barely move because of the drugs and sedatives that had been pumped into her system by the hospital’s staff, “ Are you here to help me get out of here? ” The question was whispered; she was extremely FEARFUL that someone would hear and she would get in trouble, be forced to go through another round of so-called ‘therapy’, “ If you are, then....shhhh..... ”

There is a slow, soft sounds of jingles that chime every other seconds as if triggered by steps. It slices through the silence that otherwise hovered around the space that IT was currently moving through. The only clear indication that anything was even out of the ordinary as the sound was not followed by anything visual just yet. The kinds of sounds that might just strike that ‘is that really something?’ thought.

@tortured-she // closed.