ƛƧƳԼƲM ƑƠƦ ƬӇЄ ƇƦƖMƖƝƛԼԼƳ ƖƝƧƛƝЄ {ˢᵉᵐᶦ⁻ᵃᵈᵛᵃᶰᶜᵉᵈ ʳᵒᶫᵉᵖᶫᵃʸ} discussion

Here patients who have visited the treatment rooms for acquired injuries may stay the night if they have been hurt severely enough.

Dressed in the standard gray uniforms, an handsome but rattled looking African American man known as Carson Kendall sauntered down the hall that lead to the infirmary. After he was being diagnosed with psychopathy and schizophrenia by some quack, Carson was brought to the infirmary to pick up his tranquilizers medication and get a physical. After that, he would be released into his horrifically insane cell. He would meet actual murders. People who probably finger painted with the blood of their victims. People who were actually certifiably insane.
Carson shook his head, trying to clear the panic the fogged the functioning parts of his brain, and stepped inside the blindingly white room.

Priscilla turned around as she heard the door open, and gripped her clipboard tightly. Out of all the nurses, she was the only one available to give the new patient a physical. And a physical meant having to touch people. Priscilla was pale just thinking about it. As she turned around she surveyed the man standing before her. "Carson Kendall?" She questioned, motioning to the table for him to sit on. "I'm just going to give you a quick physical, nothing major." It was major, she had to touch his skin. Nausea rolled in the girl's stomach, and she turned around to face the locked cabinets of supplies, almost ready to grab a pair or rubber gloves. She just needed to calm down, taking deep breaths. After turning around she forced a smile, picking up the instrument to find his blood pressure. "Then I'll also need to take your pulse, and draw blood. Am I right in assuming the guards have searched you for weapons?" In her head, another situation played out. He had a weapon. He killed her with it. She would be dead. Priscilla ran a hand through her blonde hair, hoping he couldn't see the fear she held inside.

It was easy to mask fear. Very easy, Carson used to do it all the time when he worked as a criminal lawyer. But here was the thing: fearful people found their own. And Carson was afraid, and so was that nurse. He felt incredibly disheartened at that, though he didn't know why. He was a supposed murderer. Who wouldn't be afraid?
"You are correct, I have no weapons." He finally said, staring at the wall, then prying his light brown eyes to her. "What's your name?" He asked, examining her.

Priscilla stepped back as he turned to face her, startled by the sudden movement. "Priscilla. I'm Priscilla." Her lowered quickly, just above a whisper. She stepped forward, trying to become absorbed in placing the cloth around his arm. She tried to avoid as much skin contact as possible, and when she had to touch his arm to fasten it, her fingers were as soft as feathers, and were quick, the burning and sinking feeling developing in her. She measured, and quickly marked down the number before looking up. "What did you do for them to find out you were crazy?" She asked as she turned her back to him, not wanting to meet his eyes, and then reached for a stethoscope. As she turned back around, she felt the cold stethoscope in her hand, and dreaded what she was going to ask now. "Could you take off your shirt for me? Or I can let you change into a gown." She flushed slightly, taking a step away from the man, and in the process pushing aside the wheeled chair, sending it spinning across the room. "I'm sorry, but it's required." She actually was going to have to touch him, hold him steady while she checked his breathing, and there was going to be contact. Her breathing quickened, and she forced herself to look up from the ground.

"Hello Priscilla." He said as she took his measurements, a tiny, almost unreadable smile on his face. But it vanished in a matter of seconds when she asked The Question. "I thought it was protocol not to ask that question." He called to her as she reached for a stethoscope, his eyes following her body. She was...pretty, in a frail way. Like a dove with a broken wing. "And don't be sorry." He said, relief evident in his deep voice. Without a moment of hesitation he took his shirt off. His brown skin was stretched over years of muscles developed from playing lacrosse in college. He stared blankly ahead and waited for her to check his heartbeat. "What's wrong?" He asked, noticing her nervousness.

She looked up, watching him almost completely avoid her question. "It's not exactly protocol, but more wise advice." She stared at his chest, resisting the urge to shiver. Skin... too much skin. "Besides, it's not like I couldn't just find your files." She gave a short laugh, her blonde hair briefly bouncing. On the inside, Priscilla knew she wouldn't ever go that far. She'd rather hide away in her room, or visit her brother. He'd be out soon, and they could leave, away from the asylum. Soon wasn't coming as fast as she'd like, and Priscilla knew she would have to deal with it anyway. She moved in front of him, licking her chapped lips. "It's nothing." She muttered, not meeting Carson's eyes. "Nothing's wrong." She stepped forward, placing the stethoscope down against his skin as she held onto his shoulder to steady him. She felt like her fingers were burning from the contact, and she almost yanked it away, only calmed by hearing his breathing through the scope. "My brother's in here." She said softly, scratching something down on her clipboard.

Carson gave a smile that was not remotely convincing after she said the file thing. "Yeah. I suppose that's true." He gave a slight jump when she put the stethoscope on his bare back from the unexpected jarring cold. She was nervous. He could tell; the way she licked her lips, the avoidance of eye contact. He stared straight ahead, his eyes empty. He blinked in surprise when she mentioned that she had a brother. "Really?" He wanted to look back at her. "Is that why you're working here?"

Her fingertips seemed to warm on his skin as she held him still, and when she had the chance she lightened her grip. A panic attack was blooming somewhere within her, and she seemed to swallow it back with considerable fear and apprehension. Priscilla gave a quick, jerky nod, "I can't be apart from him. So when he came here, I went along with him and became a nurse." She gave a small, proud smile, "He'll be out soon. He told me so." She removed her hand, and the stethoscope, giving it a light shake. Priscilla grabbed her clipboard, marked down some things, and then wrapped the stethoscope around her neck. She turned to Carson, leaning on the counter behind her. "He's okay." She repeated, numb as she though about her brother. Some people said she was still in shock that he got put in the asylum, but she just felt like a ghost without him. "He'll be okay." She nodded to herself, her eyes on Carson, but her mind somewhere else.

"What do you mean, you can't be away from him?" Carson asked curiously, not a hint of aggression in his tone. "What will happen if you stay apart? Spontaneous combustion?" He joked, knowing that it was ill-placed. He only wished to lighten the mood, to erase the ever increasing tension. "How long has he been in this place?" Carson asked. He wondered if Priscilla's brother was his roommate in the Horrifically Insane ward. If that was true, then there was no way he would be out any time soon. Carson knew how institutions worked. They kept you in there until you became part of it, until it came calling you back when you were freed. It was the case with nearly all of his clients.

She gave a small smile, "Would you believe me if I say I don't know. We're never been apart, so I don't know what happens when we do." She rubbed her lips together, thinking about the itchy, anxious feeling when she hasn't seen her brother in a while. She didn't get it often, she was almost vising her brother everyday. "I just get," She swirls her hands in a circular motion, like that would make up for an answer. "I just can't be away from him." She tapped her chin in response to his next question. "I don't know exactly. Maybe two years? More? I've forgotten." She shrugged, not remembering the date when she first got here. "Jason's getting better though. He told me that he's going to be out anytime now." There was no doubt in her that he was just trying to cheer her up. Priscilla felt that Jason would never lie to her. "You're new though, right?" She gave him a small, shy smile. "You'll be out soon enough. You just have to get better."

The man listened intently as she spoke. It seemed to calm her down, talking. He relaxed, and nodded slowly to her responses. Again, the word fragile came to mind. Everything about her was; the way she spoke, her movements...her sanity. Carson wanted to know the things that she's seen over the years that made her that way. "Yes. I am new." He answered, her last sentence crushing him. But there's nothing wrong with me. Carson wanted to tell her, feeling hollow inside.

Priscilla looked at the cabinets, as she spun around, her cheeks red. She was suddenly afraid of what she'd revealed to him. She'd never told her brother about her anxiety, her fear of touching people, but yet she had just gone ahead and told this stranger, this insane man. Who knew what he had done to been cooped up here. "I should take your blood. That's the last of everything, before your prescription." She murmured softly, grabbing the needle and other equipment out. Priscilla turned on the sink, washing her hands quickly, before moving back over to the man. "I'm not crazy." She made herself say, almost completely out of fear. "I'm not. Just..." Priscilla looked down, forcing herself to go back to drawing blood. "Can you make a fist please." She asked, moving his arm to be palm up. She gently rubbed his skin with the disinfectant. "Just try to relax."

Carson nodded and obliged, taking a deep breath. He wasn't afraid of needles. He was afraid of leaving, of being with the psychos. He took another breath. "You aren't crazy." He assured her, half smiling as she rubbed the disinfectant on his skin. "But this place will make you that way."

She smiled, but knew that it wasn't the asylum that made her her afraid. It was the car accident that killed her parents, and seeing her brother covered in blood and being led away by the police. She'd never admit it though, she never could. Priscilla couldn't even figure out how to tell people she was afraid of touching them. She gently placed the needle, inserting into the vein, and watched as the blood started to appear in the tube. "I won't need too much blood." As she waited for the blood, she looked up, meeting Carson's eyes. "Saying I'm not crazy, it's like saying you're not crazy. You may be insane before you get here, but once you're here, it's official." She gave him a nod, her eyes flickering to the door. "Beware of everyone. Guards, other patients, no one is on your side." She pulled out the needle, and squeezed the blood into a clean tube before closing it securely. "I'm on your side, though I might be the only one." She wiped the puncture mark, but knew she wasn't allowed to bandage it for 'safety' reasons.

Carson knew the brief sting from the needle was coming, so he didn't flinch. He watched his blood inch through the tube, his eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. What a long, hellish day. He wasn't sure how much more he could take. Then for the first time the nurse made eye contact with him. He stared at her, taking in her grave words, the look of exhaustion contorting into fear. "What-the guards?" As she finished the procedure, for once the ex-lawyer was speechless. "The guards. Are they insane too?" Before she could answer, he swallowed and spoke again. "Thank you. For being on my side. But I have to ask why. For all you know I'm a murderer."

Priscilla turned around glancing at the door with dark eyes before turning back to Carson. "I'm not saying they're insane, the guards, but I'm definitely not saying that they are in their right minds." She learned this soon enough when she got here. It took a long time to get their eyes off of her, as they just seemed to stare at her like she was the prey, and they were the hunters. Everyone here seemed to be insane, like the building itself held an illness that spread to everyone who entered it. And who knew if there was even a way out. As she crossed her arms around her chest, she flicked her eyes away from his. "Why I'm on your side? Because you're possibly the only person who hasn't tried to kill me, rape me, or keep me as hostage." Most of the men, and even some of the women who came in, tried to talk their way out of the asylum. Some even tried to force their way. Everyone was dangerous. "You seem somewhat sane."

Carson almost broke down at the young nurse's last sentence. It's because I am. He wanted to tell her. But wouldn't he be like everyone else in the asylum? Insisting that they weren't crazy? He bit his thumbnail. Priscilla was just like him. She was a minnow in a pond of piranha's. She was just out of place here than Carson was. He blinked at her, the new information swirling in his brain. They had to stick together. "Thank you." He said, looking up at her. "I'm on your side too." There was seriousness in his voice. Carson believed in equality over anything. If Priscilla watched his back, he would watch hers, no questions asked. He hoped she understood the gravity of the unspoken promise.

((I think Carson is in the same cell as her brother :O want to RP them?))

((I don't have her brother, if that's what you meant! It's up to you :) ))

Priscilla watched him bite his nail, focusing her gaze in the jagged end that was left on his thumb. She was crazy, she knew it, but would never admit it. That wasn't something she would tell anyone, but it itched, and irked at her just knowing that her fears weren't natural. "Ask for me, when you are hurt." She didn't say if, he would get hurt, everyone did. Prisoners or guards, they would be hurt eventually. "The other nurses will bring in the doctors." She busied herself with smoothing her apron, "The doctors aren't nice either." Priscilla didn't bother herself with saying crazy. Around here, everyone was, and there was no need to say the word itself. "You'll learn a lot soon, these first few days will teach you more than enough." She gave him a grim smile, moving to sit next to him, but keeping her distance from his skin. "Any questions?" She asked, her voice quite sullen.