Detailed Roleplayers discussion
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Julia Horan x Isis
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message 1:
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Isis
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Jun 20, 2014 10:05PM
Alrighty, here we go.
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Alright, I love idea 1. and 3. We can do either one you want and I'll play any of the characters you don't want haha. They're all really good ideas by the way.
Thank you :P and I've really been wanting to do idea 1. Would it be okay if I was the guy?
Yes! I was kind of hoping you would want to do that one haha.
Awesome (: so for the characters I was thinking we should make their ages anywhere from 19-22. Is that okay with you?
Okay great (: shall we start our characters?
Sure! I'm not gonna be home much today so I'll work on mine whenever I get the chance. If you want to start that would be great.
Okay! I haven't had service all day (I'm on vacation in California at the moment) but when I get to my hotel I'll get started!
Alright, I'm going to start working on mine. How detailed should she be?
Alright I guess I'll just make her basic so I can play out her personality and stuff in the actual role play.
Name: Zoe Sorenson Age: 20
Appearance:
Background: Zoe's mother was put into a mental institution when she was only a young girl due to severe bouts of depression which caused violent tendencies. Her mother spent the rest of her life in the institution and Zoe was rarely allowed to visit, but she hated the conditions when she did. Her mother died when she was only 15, due to suicide, but Zoe didn't lose the feelings she had toward the people in the institution. She spent her high school years preparing and then applied for the job when she turned 18. She is now one of the guidance counselors for the institutionalized and a care giver when needed.
Name: Nash JacobsenNationalities: British and Canadian
Age: 20
Birthplace: New York City, New York
Birthdate: December 26
Appearance:
Tattoos: (view spoiler)
Height: 6'3
Eye Color: Blue
Personality: Nash isn't a good person, but he's far from a murderer. He's actually got a very brilliant mind, but like most criminals, he uses it for wrong reasons. Due to going to jail a few times and growing up in a rough area, Nash is a tough guy and it takes a lot to break him down.
History: Nash, along with his twin brother, was born to a 15 year old mother and a 25 year old father. His father was never really around much, he was a known player of the area and has several other children due to the reputation he lived up to. His father was not only a player, but involved in a lot of illegal activities. He has been in and out of prison for most of Nash's life. Nash's mother, Eleanor, was hardly a mother at only 15. Growing up, Eleanor was more of a friend to Nash, which is why even now Nash calls her Eleanor rather than mom. They lived in the ghetto of New York City. Money didn't come easily and Nash was shoplifting by the age of 8. He was put in juvenile detention for the first time when he was 12. At the age of 13, Nash was admitted into a pediatric mental institution after an episode where Eleanor ended up calling the police. He was released a year later. His twin brother was killed in a gang shooting when Nash was 16. After that, that's when Nash starting selling and buying drugs. He was arrested a few times that following year. When Nash was 19, the murders happened. He knew all three women, and he was found with the same gun as the murder weapon, which made him a prime suspect. His attorney, who was assigned to Nash due to his lack of money, was nothing short of an idiot. He decided to file Nash for insanity rather than not guilty. The jury bought it.
Family:
Mother: Eleanor "Ellie" Maslow, 35 (view spoiler)
Father: Mike Jacobsen, 45
Twin Brother: Jack Jacobsen, deceased
Older Half Brother: Matthew Jacobsen, deceased
Older Half Brother: Cooper Jacobsen, 27
Older Half Sister: Bailey Margo, 25
Other:
((Sorry he turned out longer than I expected haha. That's what boredom does to me. She's perfect, btw!))
((Sorry, I created her in like two minutes haha. I didn't try very hard but I'll fill her out during the action))
Haha it's all good! I usually don't make very detailed characters, boredom just managed to get the best of me lol.
Well it's all the better for me I guess haha, you want to start?
Sure! I'll need a bit because we are just about to go to lunch. But after that I'll get something up (: do you prefer first or third person? And is it okay if I start with him first coming to the institution?
Yeah that's a great place to start and I prefer third person. I'm headed off to work right now so I'll have to respond later tonight, just so you know.
Okay third it is! And alright sounds good (:
Nash Jacobsen's arrival was a big deal at Dalewood Mental institution. It's not everyday a murderer is admitted entrance. Reporters, cameras, and some of the angry public stood outside, shouting anything from questions to death threats at Nash as he was led inside the institution by two guards. His hands were secured behind his back by handcuffs which matched his orange jail clothes. Most of Dalewood's patients don't arrive in handcuffs, but Nash was deemed 'dangerous' and therefore extra precautions were taken. This is what happens when your idiot lawyer pleads insanity rather than not guilty. Nash didn't commit the murders. He had nothing to do with any of them. All three murders had been absolutely brutal, another reason why Nash was so hated by the public. One victim had all of her skin peeled off of her completely. The second victim had died a slow, painful death due to blood loss from having her legs cut off. The last and third victim had five bullet shots to the head.
It was easy for Nash's lawyer to plead insanity, considering Nash had been a Dalewood patient a few years prior. But that was for a completely different reason, it had been something along the lines of a very severe panic attack. Apparently that deemed him insane. This time, however, there was no good reason for Nash being here. He was innocent, but it seemed like not a single soul believed him. Even the way he looked separated him from the other patients. Nash, unlike others, looked completely with it, tired yes, but still aware.
The moment Nash was pushed into his cell, the cell where he would spend the majority of the rest of his life, his hand cuffs were taken off and he was thrown a grey jumpsuit to replace his orange one. "You've got an initial check up in ten minutes," one guard told him, gruffly. "I'll be back in five to escort you there."
Then the door closed and Nash was alone.
Zoe listened as all the commotion throughout Dalewood and outside of Dalewood. It had been an awkward bustle of attendants and police officers all day and there had been reporters sitting outside the building since the early morning, but it all got a lot worse when the new resident arrived. The awkward bustle turned into an angry roar of confusion, hatred, and a sort of awe. She herself was feeling a bit of it, but more than any of those things she felt curiosity. She peaked out one of the small windows in her office door. It wasn't much of an office beyond the door, but the door itself was a dark wood with three small windows slightly to the right of the door, near the handle. She often looked out of them to see what was happening, or residents looked in to see if she was around. This time, she was trying to get a slight taste of the action before it was time to fully jump in.
She saw him going down the hall toward the cells, or the dungeon as the residents liked to call it. It was the maximum security area where the dangerous residents were to live, at least until they were deemed safe enough to be around the others. Fortunately for Zoe, the maximum security was very little security indeed, usually consisting of one or two sleep guards outside the main doors at night. It was fortunate for her because the high risks were her favorite to visit. She liked to be with them in their environments and get to know them, even though she was most definitely not allowed to do so.
But, having seen so many of the high risks, dangerous, and deadly, this new man, Nash, looked nothing like the rest. He was handsome, fit, and he seemed to be completely aware of his surroundings. He obviously hadn't attacked anyone recently or they would have drugged him for the transfer. Interesting. They almost always attacked before the transfer if they were deemed to be this violent.
Already she felt the urge to get inside his brain and understand it. She wanted to know why he did what he did more than anyone, though she wouldn't admit that to any of her coworkers. Most of them actually found him boring and not worth the risk, so she pretended to play along. She would simply have to do her work in secret until they assigned him to her as a dirty job of sorts. She was still so low on the food chain that she only got the people no one else wanted to deal with. She didn't mind.
As the bustle started to die down and she was once again alone with her thoughts she moved away from the little window and opened the door. She walked out of the room and strolled nonchalantly down the hall toward the dungeon. The officers had already lost interest and were about the premises looking around for more interesting crazies in their natural environments.
She was easily into the dungeon and walking down the dim hall, greeting some of the more permanent residents as she did so. Most refused to respond but some did with very pleased voices. She was generally loved by the worst of them, which once again she didn't mind.
When she reached his cell she stopped in front of it and just sort of smiled at him. "Hello, I'm..." she didn't finish because she was interrupted by the opening of the main doors. She had forgotten about the damn initial check because she had been too excited.
Hopefully they didn't increase security.
Hopefully she knew this officer and could talk her way out of a sit down with the higher ups.
((That was such a gorgeous post omg <33))Nash's lawyer explained Dalewood to Nash after their 'victory'. Well, his lawyer say it as a victory. He got his client off of death row, what an accomplishment! Nash, on the other hand, found this mental institution worse than death row. At least on death row his misery would end at some point. Not here. Nash would rot in this building for the rest of his life. What a victory.
Anyway, his lawyer had basically told Nash everything he already knew about the place. You get two uniforms. You change your uniform every other day. You get to shower everyday, for five minutes, and the water is always cold unless you're reward for good behavior is a 10 minute hot shower. You get three meals a day. It is the same options everyday. If you don't like the options, you don't eat. Being a high risk patient, you are given your own cell that way no fights break out. In case of bad behavior, there are punishments. Such as solitary confinement, electroshock therapy (illegal, yes, but Dalewood thinks otherwise) and other various things. The list goes on and on about what you need to know about being a patient at Dalewood.
Nash had changed into his grey jumpsuit thing, still wearing a white t shirt underneath. And then he sat on his bed, and waited. Everything in this place was grey. The walls, the floors, the sheets, the uniforms, and most likely the food as well. Welcome to Dalewood, Nash. Nice to have you back again.
He looked quickly towards the door when he heard someone who seemed to be addressing him. She was talking to him? Nash had no idea who she was. She obviously wasn't a guard, maybe she was the nurse for his physical or something? He didn't know. "Um..." Was the only thing he managed to get out before a guard appeared, next to the girl.
The guard was a big guy, and he looked a little too happy considering his job was working with insane people. But hey, if he likes that, he likes that. The guard looked at Zoe, smiled at her, and then said, "Can I help you?"
Nash just watched the exchange, from his uncomfortable bed, not quite sure what to think of either of them. Why the hell was he so happy? Why the hell had she approached him? Surely she knew who he was, right?
Hell, seemed like most of the country knew who Nash was. He's that good for nothing, asshole, who killed three women and deserves to rot in hell. Well, this may not be hell, but Dalewood is almost the same thing.
((Thank you! I was actually pretty proud of it...not gonna lie. I love full on roleplays like this))"Greg!" Zoe grinned and gave the big man an awkward hug. He was easily twice her size, if not more. He had about five heads on her. She was short compared to most people but compared to him she looked like an ant. "It's been a long time since I've seen you around here? Did they switch you back over to motorcycle stuff, or are you doing something new now? Are you just back for today? Are you going to be around?"
She put a hand over her mouth and shrugged. She had a bad habit of asking a million questions and not letting anyone have a chance to answer when she was excited. It had been over a year since she had seen this particular guard, or maybe cop was more appropriate, and she was beyond excited that he had been the one to catch her.
She fidgeted for a moment then let her hand fall back down before he even had time to say more than three words. She couldn't help herself, she never could. "I'm so glad it's you. I thought my goose was about to be incredibly burned. What do you say we go back to old times and you don't tell my boss that I was down here?" She gave him her best puppy eyes, puffed out her lower lip, and batter her eye lashes. It always worked with him, or it always did in the past.
Zoe wasn't exactly a manipulator, but she knew how to twist things her way when she needed to. Making friends with Greg had been one of her better moves and he was such a nice guy, to her at least, that it hadn't taken much. A few short conversations had gotten her an unlimited pass to the dungeon and privileges that the higher ups would gladly kill her over if they knew. Of course, she had to promise to keep her big trap shut and that was difficult at times.
When the higher ups started to brag she wanted to shove her progress in their faces. She had talked to and learned more about the residents in the dungeon then they could ever dream of. She had a way with people, especially crazy people, and she could get even the most stubborn to talk. She prided herself on it all in private, usually behind the recesses of her big office door.
Zoe cut out her puppy face and looked over at Nash. "I just wanted to talk to him. You know I would have done it later anyway and I'll do it again whether you try and stop me or not."
She realized she was talking about Nash like he wasn't there and she mentally slapped herself for it. He was human and humans hated that. "Sorry. I'm Zoe and I'll hopefully be your counselor, or therapist if you prefer that term, in the next couple of days. I'll also be down here every couple of night if you ever want to...chat." She gave him a charming smile then she turned on her heel and started away.
"See you later Greg!" she called quickly before she bounded out of the dungeon and back to her office before the guard could get a single serious word in on what he was going to do about her presence in the dungeon. She would simply go back to her office and wait to see if consequences arrived or not.
Back in her office she thought about Nash's face. He looked upset to be where he was, but not in the usual way. He seemed more miserable than lost, more resigned than confused. Interesting. So interesting.
((Same here! The more detailed the better :P))Greg kind of chuckled as the small girl attempted to hug him and then went off, spitting questions at him and then not giving him time to answer a single one. "Dalewood has re-hired me as a guard, so I'll be around more often," he explained quickly, once she stopped asking questions. A few months ago Greg had left his guard job and returned to being a police officer. But then he decided he preferred crazies over the criminals and came back. Of course at Dalewood you get some criminals who are crazies.
Best to both worlds.
Nash had looked away from the two of them, looking around his cell a little bit more. There really wasn't much to take in. It was small, and for the most part empty. Nash was trying not to focus on their conversation. Where he grew up, you learn at a young age to not stick your nose where it doesn't belong. That'll get you in trouble really quick.
Greg knew Zoe wasn't allowed to be here. These people were the dangerous ones. Some of the crazy people were only a danger to themselves, those were the people in Ward A and Ward B. But the dangerous patients were kept in Ward C. Ward D was the last one. Unless you worked in Ward D, you didn't really know what's in there. There are rumors that the people in Ward D are just literally too crazy to function. Which was probably true. It was absolutely prohibited for anyone, other than authorized personnel, to go into Ward D.
But this wasn't Ward D and Greg knew Zoe was careful and really didn't mean any harm. Not to mention her puppy dog face was hard to say no to and he didn't want her getting in trouble. The warden at Dalewood, Mrs. Woodbury, was nothing short of a complete and utter bitch. She believed in harsh treatments and no sympathy. Whether it he to her employees or the patients.
Of course Greg knew Zoe would keep coming here whether he told her to or not. She's been doing it almost as long as she has been working here. And he's seen her with the crazies, she has a way with them. And she gets them to talk more than anyone else can. Greg didn't give a shit about any of the patients, especially ones in Ward C, but Zoe seemed to. And that was her choice. "I won't tell anyone," he assured her. Just like old times.
Him. Nash has been referred to as 'him' a lot ever since the murders happened. 'Him' has almost become a synonym for his name. It used to bother him, that he was degraded to that, but not anymore. Him, Nash. Same thing, right?
But then Zoe turned to him, apologized, and then introduced herself as his therapist. She added a charming smile at the end, which Nash almost wished he could return but he didn't. He hasn't genuinely smiled in a while. It almost feels unnatural to do it now. And not much in Nash's life has given him any reason to smile.
"Bye Zoe, don't get yourself into too much trouble. Not everyone is as nice as me," Greg laughed, watching her go. "Alright, kid, let's get you sorted out." Nash watched as the large man unlocked his cell door and the proceeded to walk into the cell. He got Nash by the front of his shirt and pulled him onto his feet, a little rougher than necessary, and then put the handcuffs back on, also tighter than needed. "Tight enough?" Nash didn't say anything, but they were too tight. The hard metal dug into his already sore wrists.
Not all guards are nice to the other employees but there is not one guard in all of Dalewood that is nice to the patients. Most guards are somewhat physical with the patients and every single guard verbally bullies the patients. Mrs. Woodbury doesn't care, so the guards do what they want. Even if it is at the expense of the patients.
Greg pushed Nash forward, and the they proceeded to walk to the nurse's office. It was later that night when Nash finally returned to his cell. Nash sat on his bed, rubbing his cut up wrists in attempt to ease the stinging. He wasn't tired but at the same time he was very tired. His body wasn't fatigued in the slightest. But mentally, he was drained. And he has been drained for almost a year and a half now.
Zoe didn't have a particular schedule that she had to follow at Dalewood. She was paid based on how many patients she saw and it didn't matter when she saw them or how long she saw them, it was the same flat rate. She could see one hundred patients in a day and get paid for all one hundred, or she could see only one and spend the rest of the day just lounging in her office. No one really cared what she did or who she did it with as long as she wasn't making a fuss about anything. She had tried to make a fuss once. She had tried to get the residents, she didn't like to call them patients or inmates or crazies, better treatment and food. She had only succeeded in getting herself suspended from Dalewood for a week and a harsh talking to from Mrs. Woodbury about respecting her position. Needless to say, Zoe learned not to make a fuss and to just make little changes herself here and there.
For instance, she was able to get the menus to change every day. The same bland ingredients had to be used, but the foods they were put in were slightly different on every day of the week. It recycled every Sunday, but it was better than the same thing every day. Mrs. Woodbury didn't care as long as it wasn't costing her money.
Then there was the issue of medical care in things as simple as band-aids and ointment. The residents could go to the nurse to have cuts and what not cleaned, but that was it. Only real medical emergencies got taken care of for real. Unfortunately, without the band-aids and ointment, infection was easy to catch in even the smallest of cuts. Dalewood was a dirty place and the residents didn't always know how to take care of injuries. They did, however, know to come to Zoe if they needed a band-aid or ointment, because she kept them in her desk.
Zoe also found out who was getting electo-therapy and when so that she could invite them to her office afterward. She would dress the pad spots which were either burned or ripped of their skin and then she would talk to them about it after they had finished crying. She hated that treatment and she knew how awful it was from experience so she tried to help them through it the best she could, and the candy always helped.
She kept colored tootsie rolls in her desk for special occasions and for the children in Dalewood. There were very few children at Dalewood because it wasn't really a child facility, but there were a few. They were kept in Ward D mostly because they were extremely hard to handle and no one wanted to deal with them. Most of the children's counseling was put off on Zoe, but she didn't mind.
On this particular occasion she was not going to see an injured resident or a child, but she brought both ointment and a few pieces of candy. She didn't really know why but it seemed like the right thing to do in the moment. She shoved the items into the pockets of her slacks and then headed toward the dungeon, or Ward C, or the cells. It didn't much matter to her what it was called, she was going there anyway.
She walked in the main doors past the guard, who was talking on the phone with what appeared to be his wife. It was a heated argument and she slipped by completely unnoticed. She walked straight for Nash's cell and she stopped in front of it, glad to see that he was still awake for the time being.
"Sorry for running off earlier," Zoe began, looking him over without trying to hide it. He really was a handsome man. He had a nice build and he seemed to be in healthy condition. That was good. It was best to come into this place healthy. His wrists, however, she noticed her a little cut up from his cuffs. She knew Greg didn't treat the residents the same as he treated her, but it was still sad to see the proof.
"Put your wrists next to the bar," Zoe told him. She wasn't concerned about being grabbed or hurt; she could break his wrist in an instant with the position she was putting him in. "I'm going to put some antibiotic ointment on them so that they start to heal up a bit before the cuffs are put back on. You don't want those deepening more than they have to."
Zoe could feel the adrenaline pumping now. She was going to touch the new resident and talk to him. Mrs. Woodbury hadn't done either of those things yet. It was kind of nice to know that she was somehow above the highest of the higher ups. She smiled to herself.
Nash could already tell it was going to be hard to fall asleep in this place. You could hear murmurs from people who were actually insane. The guy in the cell across from Nash was sat by the front of his cell, mumbling about how "he didn't mean to burn the house down" and "he thought he was helping his wife, not hurting her". Nash stared at the sorry sight of the man, before becoming thoroughly creeped out. A lady a few cells down was crying... Hysterically I may add. She was calling for someone, and it was actually pretty heartbreaking. She eventually caned down, though. Occasionally there were even screams from further down the hallway. And then it hit him, he was in a mental institution with crazy ass people for a crime he didn't commit. Could life really even get much worse at this point?
All of the sounds of the night brought him back to his first time at Dalewood. He had been out in Ward A, since he was only a danger to himself and not to others. The sounds had been somewhat similar, but there was more screaming. And sometimes you would hear a loud bang due to someone knocking their head against the wall. That was probably the most disturbing.
But maybe Nash would become one of those disturbing people one day, who tries to smash his head against the wall because he truely has gone insane. Yeah, Dalewood has "activities" for their patients and there is also recreational time, but that's not enough to keep you from actually going insane. Staring at these grey walls really could turn a person insane.
Nash could see it. He as a 40 year old, sitting by the front of the cell mumbling "I didn't do it" over and over again. Maybe it would even get to the point that he attempts suicide. Who knows? Nash knew he shouldn't be thinking about that stuff, because that could actually make him insane. But it could happen. And that's a depressing thing to think about.
Nash jumped slightly when he heard an unexpected voice. He looked at Zoe, startled, and then calmed down when he realized it was only her. No Greg, no other guard, just her. He almost wanted to tell her to leave him alone, he's had enough of people all over him today. Not to mention the nurse took a fairly large blood sample during his physical, and it made him dizzy to stand or sit too quickly.
But Zoe seemed different from the other employees. Nash remember from earlier that she said she would come back and talk to him. Talking to a normal person might help to keep him sane.
In addition, it's best to just do as your told in Dalewood. Life is already had enough without adding solitary confinement or the electroshock therapy. That shit can really mess you up, Nash knew that much. In his early Dalewood days, he never had to go through any of that. It was the first time in his life that he actually behaved himself. As for this time around, Nash wasn't quite sure how he was going behave yet.
"Okay," Nash heard himself say. He slowly stood up and sauntered over to the cell door, putting his wrists where she had told him to. His wrists were both very red, and there were a few open wounds on each of them. Nash can usually handle pain pretty well, but this was a mixture of burning and intense pain which was hard to put up with.
Not to mention Zoe had a point. They needed time to heal before they were exposed to the handcuffs again. Just the thought of wearing handcuffs made Nash slightly pissed off. He was suffering through all of this shit while the actual murderer was doing whatever the hell he or she wanted.
The other patients weren't required to wear handcuffs and Nash wasn't sure when he would be granted that luxury. Hopefully it would be soon. His wrists would be rubbed completely rubbed raw otherwise. There were pale scar marks that were slightly visible on his wrists from past times he has been in handcuffs. Not fun.
Nash watched Zoe's expression as she was about to put the ointment on. She looked almost... Excited. And she had a small little smile on her face that Nash almost asked her about, but then decided to hold his tongue and not mention it. If she wanted to smile then she was going to smile. She was definitely a lot higher on the Dalewood social ladder than he was, and therefore he had no right to question her.
Zoe carefully, and gently smeared the ointment over the marks on his wrists. "This will also dull a bit of the pain, for a while anyway. I would do more if I could, but I'm not exactly a doctor." She finished with the ointment putting it back in her pockets. When her hands came back out of her pockets she was holding tootsie rolls. "Want one?" she asked him. "I know it's not much but I love them and I like to bring them around to a few of the other residents. It helps to calm them down." She passed a few through the bars to him. "I'll just have to take the wrappers when you're done so you don't get into any kind of trouble. Um, give me a second."
The lady a few cells down had started to cry again and Zoe was going straight toward her. "Cathy, Cathy honey," Zoe soothed while reaching her arms through the bars. Immediately the woman rushed into her arms and was quiet.
"Were you crying for Trevor again?" Zoe asked softly.
The woman nodded, shook her head, then started to cry again.
"I told you it wasn't your fault. Ok? Don't cry anymore. Go lay down and get some sleep before you make yourself sick. You know being sad isn't good for the body. It wasn't your fault," Zoe told her. She spoke in a loving voice, like she really cared and believed in what she was saying.
The woman nodded her head again and started toward her bed. "Not my fault," she whispered a few times before she was quiet and laid down. She waved once to Zoe then closed her eyes.
Zoe walked back to Nash and shrugged a little bit. "That's Cathy," she whispered to him. "Her son, Trevor, killed himself a few years back because he couldn't handle his father's abuse anymore. After reading the note he left Cathy killed her husband. She used a cleaver. She cut him into pieces and spread him all over her lawn. She doesn't remember it at all but she does remember her son's death. She doesn't remember why he did it but she thinks it was her fault. It's really kind of sad..."
Zoe looked back in the direction of the woman's cell and sighed. The poor lady was completely lost now, but it was still sad to think she was there out of revenge for her son. It had been instinct.
"Well, anyway, if you ever hear her crying you can just call to her and tell her it isn't her fault. It will calm her down for a least a little bit. As for the scream down the hall, well that's Hank, screaming is how he entertains himself. He cut off his hands and feet so he can't move around much. He's still dangerous though, don't forget that and don't get on his bad side."
She looked both directions down the hall and popped a tootsie roll into her mouth. When she swallowed she continued talking.
"Across from you is Burnt Billy. His real name is William but he doesn't mind the nickname the guards gave him. He was here a few times before the real incident but just for minor things. His wife was cheating on him and he totally lost it. He claimed he was trying to help her, purify her if you will, by burning up the house with her tied to the bed. He apparently didn't remember their new born baby and he didn't think about getting out of the house himself. He lost most of the right side of his face and much of the skin all over his body. Oh, and the investigators also found the man she cheated with in the backyard with his throat eaten, by human teeth."
"There's also Shelby, Ruth, Carl, and Big Jimmy," Zoe said, naming off the rest of the residents currently in the dungeon. "Shelby was a prostitute, but instead of money she took men's lives...and their boy parts. Carl was a rentable party clown but he ended up strangling six kids at a birthday party when he couldn't get any of his balloons to blow up. Apparently he just went around the party snatching the kids away, strangling them with the balloons, then stuffing them in the bushes. No one noticed until the last kid. Big Jimmy was a hitman, but he turned himself in when he hit a kitten with his car. He confessed to everything he ever did and went absolutely nuts when one cop claimed the kitten was the least of his worries. He killed the officer on the spot, with his handcuffs. Ruth killed all three of her kids because they tracked mud on her new carpet."
"Elmer used to be in the cell next to you but he died last week. He was ninety-three years old. He was ninety when he got her but he had cancer even then. When he found out he went to the children's ward of the hospital and did some things I don't even feel comfortable talking about. He was the only one in here I couldn't bring myself to understand."
Zoe shook her head sadly then turned her attention back to him. "I'm surprised they even bothered putting you in Dalewood."
((I love making up stories about crazy people...sorry I went off on it a little too much))
((Haha don't be sorry! That was perfect and very creative i must say lol))Nash inhaled sharply as the cool ointment first made contact with his skin, but he relaxed as the pain numbed. It was a nice relief from the pain he was constantly in before. "Thanks," he said, quietly, pulling his arms back through the bars of the cell once she was finished. He looked down at her extended hand, almost unable to believe that there were tootsie rolls. He accepted them as she handed them over to him. He couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten candy.
"Okay," Nash nodded, as she excused herself for a few moments. He took that time to eat the tootsie rolls. They were heaven. He also wasn't given dinner, due to the blood work or something, so they helped to satisfy his near empty stomach. He kept the wrapper clenched in his hand, remembering what she said about taking the wrappers from him that way he wouldn't get in trouble for it. Because everyone knows how much Dalewood loves to punish the residents here.
Nash didn't know where Zoe had went, but he could still hear her voice somewhere down along the aisle of cells. It sounded like she was comforting someone. And after some more listening, Nash decided it was the lady who was crying about whatever problems she had in her life. The crying settled down and Zoe returned not long after.
"She cut him into pieces?" Nash repeated, after hearing the story about Cathy. Yeah, it's horrible that her son committed suicide, but it takes a certain kind of crazy to not only kill someone but then cut them up. The thought itself was sickening. This is what happens when you get stuck in Ward C, you're with the dangerous crazies.
Hank was almost as disturbing. Cutting off your own hands and feet? Screaming for entertainment? Nash looked down the hall, the best he could with the bars in the way, when he heard the same scream from earlier. So that was Hank.
Nash looked at the cell directly across from him, right at the character they called Burnt Billy. Nash hadn't gotten a good look at him before that point. The scarred skin all over him really was quite off putting, but his story was even worse. It basically implies that he resorted to cannabalism. That's a new type of insane.
"You understand the rest of them, then?" Nash asked when she said Elmer, the old guy, was the only one she couldn't understand. Nash didn't understand any of them, not that he had even bothered trying nor did he have any interest to try and understand these people and their actions. Their horrible, disturbing actions. It didn't make sense. None of them made sense.
And these are the freaks that Nash was going to be living a few meters from for the rest of his life. There would be new psychos along the way possibly with even more revolting stories. No one could guess who would walk through these doors next. And then, Nash thought, people around the country probably found him just as disgusting as he found some of these people. That wasn't a good feeling.
Nash looked at her, surprised, when she said she was surprised he was even here. "Because apparently I murdered three people, that's why," Nash said. "And some official looking doctor guy testified that my brain frequencies aren't technically normal, or something, so I belong in a mental institution."
"I just meant that your murders were more serial killer than crazy man," Zoe shrugged. "I doubt your brain waves were that abnormal. If they were you would likely be drugged right now, or you'd have the same look on your face that everyone else here does."She stared at him for a moment then shook her head. "To answer your question, yes I do feel like I understand them. Not perfectly or anything, but enough. They didn't do the things that they did because they had to, or wanted to, they just needed to. Some part of them got lost and they were trying to figure out how to find it. Some spent their whole lives fighting the fog but couldn't beat it out in the end, and some just had a moment of fogginess that pulled them under forever."
Zoe reached her hand in the bars. "I need those wrappers," she told him. When she had them back she put them into her pocket to throw away later.
"So, how are you liking your cell so far?" Zoe asked, but it was obvious that she wasn't being serious. "If you're good you might not have to stay in this place forever. Even the dangerous patients can move out of this place if they're good. Then, you can get an actual room."
"Ward A gets a room with a roommate. They each have a bed, there's a barred window, and there are two desks and two chairs. They're actually pretty nice. Ward B gets a room to themselves but there is only a bed and a chair. They don't get the same privileges that the desk entails. You're in Ward C so you get it. There's not much color and it's not not very comfortable. Ward D is worse though. Well, except for the couple of kids' rooms. I've only seen it a few times, but it's not a very nice place. They have actual padded rooms in there..."
She shook her head as she thought about it before giving him a big smile. "As long as you behave yourself you'll never have to see that part of the building though, so that's good."
"Hey, is it alright if I come down here to talk to you some more, some other time?" she asked him. "I'm going to anyway, so don't say no. I'm gonna get back to my office and then I'm gonna go home for the night. It's been a long day with you arriving and all. You caused a few breakdowns just by arriving."
She laughed then walked away from him and out the main doors.
