St. Peter's Asylum discussion

Raven's room. He's not in here much, so it's stayed relatively unchanged since his arrival: a simple bed in one corner (now laid with black sheets instead of white), plain walls painted a gentle shade of cream, thin gray carpet. The only two things he brought with him to the asylum are his chest of drawers and his nightstand, both of which he almost completely ignores. There is one thing, though, that lets you know someone actually lives here. On the nightstand, next to the lamp, is a picture of a young, smiling Indian girl. And carved with a steady hand across the bottom of the frame is one word: Anna.

Having wandered, once again, Hada found herself in an unfamiliar dorm. Cautiously, she stole in, unsure even what floor she was on or what wing. Her eye caught the picture frame, and she struggled to read the word carved into it. "A...An..Ann..." She tip-toed closer, trying to sound out the name.

"Anna," Raven finished from behind her. The Indian stood in the doorway, glaring, arms crossed over his chest. "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my room?" Irritation flashed through him--his dorm was supposed to be that, his. What right did this little girl have to come snooping around? None.

Hada jumped, then turned around, to look at the tall boy glaring at her. "U-um, I"m Hada, and I didn't know this was your room, I got lost...I'm sorry." Her voice was a bit squeaky in fear, but she also just was startled. Hada's red-rimmed chocolate eyes stared up at Raven, for she was utterly sorry and lost. "Who's Anna?" She piped, unable to repress her curiousity. At that, her eyes grew wide, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Not nice to pry. Not nice at all

Raven sighed and shook his head, crossing the room to the girl. "Where're you trying to go, kid?" He sat down on the bed, realizing then that the only reason he wasn't hitting her right now was because of the way she looked at him--the way a child might look up to an older sibling. The way Anna had when she was still alive. He glanced at the picture on his nightstand, giving another soft sigh.

"I was going to find my nurse, because I want to know what 'murder' is." Hada turned to face Raven, unaware as to the effect that word might have on him. "What is 'murder?'" And, she tacked on, "Was I murdered?"

First came disbelief, then frustration, then anger. All three emotions crossed his face over the span of a few seconds, but anger remained the longest. "Not if you're standing here talking to me," Raven said then, trying to keep his anger in check. Trying hard. She was just a girl, he told himself. Just a stupid little girl who'd asked a question. Nothing more. Nonetheless, he found his fists were clenched. "Murder is..." he trailed off, trying to find the words. "Murder is when somebody goes off and takes the life of somebody else," he said finally. "On purpose."

"Oh." He had explained it in much more simpler terms than Margot had. "So I...wasn't murdered, but the Man murdered. The Man murdered." Her voice had turned soft, remembered the shrieks and blood that day in the temple. "The Man murdered Mama, and Papa, and Abraham, and the Rabbi, and he wants to murder me, too." Her hand went to her pocket, caressing the crime scene picture that she always carried with her. Mind was far away, thinking about the Man. Eyes were wide, and frame stood defeated. She was even more terrified than usual.

((The Man murdered her family and the rabbi at her synagogue, and she was there, but hid.))

((I know. I've read her thingie.))

No surprise there, Raven thought. That explained it well; the girl had lost her family and as a result was in one of those insane states that people go in instead of shock. He tried his best to look sympathetic, but really it was hard. She wasn't the only one who'd lost family. "I'm sorry, kid." That was all he could manage.

((Because she seems to like the question, what if Hada goes and asks if 'the girl in the picture' was murdered? That should fire him up, if that's what you want to get at.))

((You do your HW. Sure, good idea.))


"It's OK." She glanced over to the picture. "Was she murdered, too?" It was an innocent question, really. She had just learned the meaning of a new word, and being so young, she didn't understand all the consequence that that little, six-letter, word held.

((I do, haha.))

Raven had to admit, the question surprised him. Anger soon replaced that feeling; his eyes flashed dangerously and his nails dug little furrows into his palms. "No! No, she wasn't!" His tone sounded ferocious and loud, even to him, and he knew he should calm down--but God, why would anybody even ask that? Despite his best efforts, the fury came bubbling back, mingled now with guilt and shame. "And if I were you, kid, I would leave it at that." He then pointed to the door. "Get out. Now."

Hada yelped, and scurried toward the door, but tripped on her dress on the way. Hitting the floor with a dull thud, the wind knocked out of her little body, she was too bewildered and confused to be able to leave.

And she wasn't even gone. "Get out, goddamit!" he yelled, feeling himself breaking down even as he began to tremble. Then, louder: "GET THE HELL OUT OF MY ROOM!" Six years' worth of grief and fury had catapulted into those seven words, and Raven couldn't say he felt any better. If anything, shouting at the girl on the floor was making him feel worse...but then, how does one feel good during a breakdown?

Hada was still confused, and his shouts pounded against her ears and hurt them. She curled into a ball on the floor, trying to hide from his shrieks. The strategy had always worked well for her, pretending the threat wasn't there, that nothing was wrong. It was an instinct that she always listened to.

((Oh my God, and then she lays there! He's gonna kill her. But your call; what should he do?))

((LOL, she just got the wind knocked out of her, so she's disoriented, and he's screaming at her, and she doesn't get it. What if he attacks her and starts to strangle her, and then feels bad because she reminds him of Anna?))

((He wouldn't strangle her. Maybe...*thinks*))

That did it. Raven sprang up, over by Hada's side in seconds. But he didn't go to help; no, what he did was kick her. Once, twice, three times. "GET--OUT--NOW!" One kick for each word. When he was finished he reached down, yanked the girl up, and gave her a powerful shove towards the door. Maybe that was his mind's unconscious way of making up for the fact that the poor thing probably wouldn't have been able to get up on her own. Maybe it wasn't sympathy but fury, simply blinding him. He didn't know, and right now Raven didn't care. He just wanted her out so he could die a little in peace.

The blows hit her back, making her cry out in pain, then the shove sent her straight into the door. Her nose had started to bleed, and she could feel large bruises starting to form on her back. Crying silently, she looked back at Raven with tortured eyes, hand shaking as she reached up, from her place at the ground, to open the door. But her hand was slippery with blood from wiping her nose, and she was unable to open it.

((Geez, she must really want to die.))

For the moment he was able to ignore the pain in her eyes, that would come back to haunt him later. He closed his eyes tight and clenched and unclenched his fists to avoid flying at her again. You're a statue, he told himself firmly. Don't move. Let her go, then move all you want. But he did end up moving. Only his lips, only to warn Hada that she had about ten seconds to leave before he went over there and beat her into the middle of next week--he didn't even know if he meant that, but it's what came out. "Go," he growled. "Go now. Right now, kiddo. Unless you want to join your family up in the sky."

((LOL, Yeah.))

She stood now, frantically struggling with the door. As she finally got it open, gasping at the sharp pain in her side, she scrambled to rush out the door, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" was all that she could cry over her shoulder.

((Fade?))

((Fade. Poor them.))

((LOL. We're evil.))

Jake Wards stood uncertainly outside the door of Dorm 179, his bleached almost grey eyes flickering over the golden number emblozened over the white washed paint, hesitation filling his heart, as it thumped painfully. Finally, he lifted a hand, stained with dark and old patches of burns and knocked heavily upon it.

Raven had been busy with his thoughts, staring rather unfocused at the wall opposite his bed--but at the knock he jerked around, surprised. Who could that be now, here at this hour? He didn't get visitors. The Indian stood, a little frustrated, and walked to the door. He opened it. "Yeah?"

Jake mumbled something under his breath, before clearing his voice and speaking louder. "I am your new roommate." He introduced himself gruffly, before studying his tattered shoes again.

And Raven's nails, which had been resting lightly atop the door frame, dug with startling intensity into the wood. Roommate? He didn't ask for a roommate. But he tried to keep the anger off his face and out of his voice as he responded in an attempt to be civil. "Are you? Huh. Didn't know I was getting a roommate." Behind his lips his teeth ground together. Just what he needed, someone to stare at him whenever he had one of his unstable moments.

Jake glanced up, his eyes traveling over the Indian's facial expression before nodding. "Yes. A roommate." He would scowl, but the the scar the ripped into his skin, tugging his mouth downward already transformed his features to that. "Can I come in?" Jake inquired, shuffling his feet at the dirt that littered the dimly lit hallway.

"Sure." Raven moved back, going back to his bed. He sat and studied the boy. "The name's Raven. If we're going to be bunking together, we might as well know each other's names." Not that he would know anything about sharing a room, of course. He'd been on his own just about his entire life and liked it that way. Looked like things were going to change.

Jake glanced at him carefully, before stepping in, carrying nothing by a worn photograph. "Jake. My name is Jake." He frowned, well as best he could anyway and scanned the room. One bed. Well, look's like he was going to take the floor. He didn't mind. He spent enough time on the floor anyway.

Raven nodded. "You have a bed?" he asked. "Things besides that picture?"

"No. The nurse told me to sleep on the floor until they bring a bed." Jake replied, his gaze flickering over a picture frame that perched beside a lamp. And simple handwriting scrawled a word across the bottom, under a picture of a smiling, beautiful young Indian girl. Anna said the name inscribed. But Jake didn't inquire about the photograph, nor did his eyes linger.

Raven shrugged, he was fine with that. His legs crossed and he studied the boy, his new roommate, Jake. The scar on his face had surprised him, but he was smart enough not to stare. It didn't matter much, anyway; this guy clearly had his problems. They all did. And until Raven knew of them he couldn't do what he did best and play his games. "So, Jake," he said, returning to the present, "are you one for conversation or are you just going to stand there and stare at my room?"

"Staring works for me." He replied, a slightly annoyed edge to his tone. He rubbed at the light navy fleece that covered his torso and arms as if his arm bothered him before glancing back at Raven. He usually didn't speak to people, preferred solitary motions, but if this Indian boy was to be his roommate, he might as well know him.

"Fine." Raven shrugged again, then went to look past Jake and back at the wall. He wasn't one to converse either, not until he had ammo. And he didn't, so he wasn't going to speak until he had to.

Jake slid the photograph that had been clutched in his seemingly bruised fingers into the pocket of his jeans and spoke softly. "How long have you been here?"

Raven looked back at him, his expression thoughtful. "Not long," he said. "A little longer than half a year. You?" He was perfectly fine with talking when he didn't have to be sympathetic. And who knew, maybe it would be interesting, talking with Jake. Maybe he had triggers.

((Changing Jake's profile a bit...))

"A year." Jake replied, watching his feet again as if they were particularly interesting to him.

((*whistles*))

"Fun." Raven rolled his eyes, voice heavy with sarcasm. "What are you in for, Jake?"

Jake didn't reply for a long time and for a moment it seemed as if he wouldn't answer, but he did finally, speaking quietly. "I don't know you enough to tell you."

Raven nodded; he supposed he understood. At least for now. Jake would talk when he wanted to. So instead of replying he just went to look at his picture of Anna, a slight sigh escaping him as he did.

((Fade?))

((Sure. Meet at chat. Of course, we will pick this up again sometime.))

Jake shrugged, scratching his very shaved head before tromping out of the room, his steps flickering away down the hall.

Lena arrived almost quite breathless before the dorm door. She had heard, in passing, that the number of Raven's dorm was a number 179, which was rather close to her own. She traipsed down to his room, a ink sliced paper clutched in the pale as parchment fingers. She lifted those fingers and gave a smart rap to the door, waiting patiently. Oh how she hoped he would accept it! Instead of fidgeting to pass the time, she observed the thick door handle without interest, composing a particularly creepy poem about doorknobs and skulls in her mind.

After a few short moments, the door eased open with an annoyed-looking Indian standing on the other side. "Hi, Lena," he said upon seeing who had knocked, eyebrows raising in surprise. "What brings you here?"

Lena raised a brow of her own, a slightly questioning one, as if she was curious on why he seemed to have forgotten their deal. She shrugged. "Simply walking the halls and thought I would drop by for a visit." Sarcasm tinting her voice just barely.

The tone of her voice made it click. "Oh!" Raven gave a light laugh at his forgetfulness, shaking his head. "I'm sure, Lena." He stood aside and gestured for her to come in. "Have you brought my things?"

"No Raven. I have come to tell you I haven't found a thing." She looked completely serious, no sign of a lie. She stepped past him and into the quaint, simply furnished bedroom.

Raven only laughed. "I hope for you're sake that you're lying to me," he said, his own tone serious. "Otherwise...well, let's just say that the door has a lock, and I'm rather impulsive when I'm angry."

"Dear me, seems as if I have stumbled upon a sticky situation then." Lena exaggerated, perching upon the edge of his bed. "Yes, I am jesting Raven. I have all you need." She extended the paper clutched in her fingers.

Raven nodded approvingly, taking the papers with one hand and gesturing to the nightstand with the other, where his file sat next to Anna's picture. "And, as promised, there is my file. Read and judge, Lena, but breathe not a word of this to anyone."