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C5 - Bumpy Beginnings

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C5 - Bumpy Beginnings Empty C5 - Bumpy Beginnings

Post by Guest on Sat Jul 09, 2011 11:11 pm

Her first plane ride wasn't what she expected it to be like. For starters, they didn't give her a pilot's pin and a tour of the cockpit. Instead, they rushed her towards the back of the plane and sat her between an elderly lady knitting and a man who smelled of scotch and breath mints. The woman knitting refused to switch spots, and what looked like the starts of a woolly circus tent blocked the view outside the window.

After the initial excitement of being on a plane, the trip to St. Christina's was mostly a blur of motion-sickness, trying to find some way to be comfortable, and hoping the plane wouldn't drop out of the sky like she had seen in the movies. Is all that shaking and bumping normal? Before she knew it, a whole day had nearly passed and a staff member of the Center had touched her in places only her boyfriend Max had ever seen.

They welcomed her to St. Christina's and directed her to the Bennett Home for Girls. Floor C, they told her. Room C5, Bed One. She didn't quite understand until she reached the room, walking down the hallway and through the door marked C5. There were four other beds inside. Roommates. She's going to be bunking with roommates. This will take some getting used to. Luckily, it appears that she's the first to be assigned to the room.

"Thank goodness for small miracles." she muttered to herself, hoisting her suitcase onto her bed.

As an only child, she wasn't used to sharing her room with other girls. Sure, she had plenty of sleepovers as a kid, but now that she was practically a woman, she wasn't sure she wanted to start fresh with a new group of girls. She understood all too well how friends can suddenly turn into frienemies. Soon, it's rumors and tattling, and a CW primetime drama. Yes, getting the room to herself would suit her just fine. That way she could warm up to the other ladies of the Bennett Home for Girls at her own pace.

Her inner monologue continued on with silly reasons for not wanting to share her room with other girls. Stealing each others clothes, reading each others journals, the cat-fights... but really, she was just trying to think of anything to distract her. Thinking of petty, unreasonable, reasons not to talk to anyone else was a much better option that her thinking about -

Max. She reached into a small hole in the lining of her suitcase, and pulled out a worn black-and-white photo of her lover. She cut it out of the newspaper during his trial. What a farce that was. Sending him to jail for showing her what love was? What sort of a society did we live in, now that love is illegal? Dr. Wilkes wouldn't be very happy to find out she had snuck a photo of Max with her to St. Christina's... but what she doesn't know...

Is it too soon to write him? She wrote Max when she found out about being sent to St. Christina's. There was a whole country between them now - she almost wished the application wasn't accepted. But perhaps it's for the best. She'll be 18 soon, and then no one can tell her who she should or shouldn't love.

She smiled, and put the photo between two pages in her journal. A brand new journal for her brand new beginning.

Pushing the half-full suitcase off the bed and onto the floor, Katy flopped down onto the bed. She rested her forearm over her eyes and tried to get comfortable. After hours of traveling, a little down-time would be nice. After all, there's plenty of time to unpack.


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Post by Guest on Sun Jul 10, 2011 4:20 pm

Tara Anne hadn't exactly been well-behaved as of late. Ever since they tried to put her on that plane it seemed like her blood ran hotter than usual. She attacked one boy: his only crimes being giving her a strange look and admitting to–in her eyes–mistreating his mother. Then came her lucky break came, during the chaos of the move she managed some time alone with Levi. Apparently the kids and bags to search through had mean the St Christina's staff had their attentions divided enough that no one noticed the volatile combination of a sadist seated beside a masochist and left them uninterrupted. Then they were moved into their rooms and Tara Anne was met with both good and bad: possible friend and a new enemy. The new room, the only one occupied in Ward A, was opened with screams, blood, and restraints. Just the way things ought to be at St. Christina's.

Today, she was once more trying to make a slight effort to behave. After all, as much as she got away from herself on a regular basis she did still care to some extent. She wanted to 'get better' at least in the eyes of the psychiatrists and administration. The sooner they saw her as healed the better, the sooner she could get on with her life, her family. Tara Anne liked to believe there was a chance of all that. Even if there lives a tiny voice in the back of her head reminding her over and over again 'you're ward A, the worst of the worst. They're never letting you out. Never ever....'

So she was wandering down the halls of the lowest security ward. Surely, no one there would give her mind that irresistible pull towards trouble and chaos. These were the good kids: all mild phobias and a general aversion to other people and things like that. They weren't the kind to start fights or even follow though in one. That drip Jackson from the plane, he was probably a ward C kid. He hadn't even fought back. Just seeming to try to politely ask her to leaving me alone has she pulled out an actual clump of his unfairly long hair.

Peeking through the open door Tara tried to keep her face neutral despite the urge to sneer. The lucky bitch brought the same sort of resentment to Tara as Jackson had. With too much hair to be fair. Dressed in a pair of beat-up, two seasons behind the trends jeans and a plain, slightly ill-fitted purple t-shirt. The kind of clothes that clearly came to her as donations instead of purchases. Her head was obviously shorn not too long ago. The beginnings of dirty blonde regrowth living as peach fuzz on her head. A soft pink fedora pulled on top. Obviously not doing much to hide the fact that she was in fact bald, but at least she was trying. She crossed her arms under her bust with a lock and watched the girl critically.

"New kid huh? Welcome to hell. Where'd they find you then?"


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Post by Guest on Sun Jul 10, 2011 10:39 pm

It seemed like she has just laid back in bed when she heard someone come in. She sat up, startled, and half rolled, half stood up off the bed. "Real graceful, Katy" her little voice criticized her movements. Katy stood up and gave a shy little wave, looking over the girl who greeted her. A bright pink fedora rested atop her cropped hair. Definitely not like the girls she knew from school back home. She hoped she managed to hide her surprise as she nervously tucked some of her long, dark hair behind her right ear.

"Montana," Katy said, stepping towards the other girl. The girl didn't have a bag or a suitcase in tow, so she didn't appear to be her new roommate. But this girl looked tough - a lot tougher than her. Was she going to try to make Katy her bitch? Surely that's just something out of a prison movie. It wouldn't happen here, right? Not taking any chances, Katy was determined to win over the lady with kindness. She straightened her flowery white blouse, pulling it down over the top of her tight blue jeans. It was awkward not having a belt, a weird feeling that makes you worried your pants will slip down. It's interesting what you realize you take for granted when it is suddenly gone.

Now she was closer to the girl, close enough to touch, but far enough back to duck away just in case. "I'm from Helena - the Queen of the Rockies!" Was that too chipper? She didn't want to come across as a ditz.

"My name is Katy. My Mom and Doctor sent me across the country to hopefully get help here." Katy tried to keep her greyish-blue eyes focused on the hazel eyes of the other girl, trying to get a read on her. "Hell? Is that what this place is really like? How long have you been here?"


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Post by Guest on Mon Jul 11, 2011 2:24 pm

"You don't say..."

Tara Anne gave a little smirk, coming from someplace both cold and amused. Figured this girl would announce her origins with a tourist ready name slapped on it. She was probably the type to act a tourist in her own town. Making pictures of everything little thing and gasping at sunsets. In those bags somewhere she probably even had a cozy hoodie with that very slogan embroidered across the front. Shipped in from China where the sweatshop workers couldn't even read the words, never mind dream of the location. Full of fresh air and snow-capped mountains.

"Salt Lake City, Utah" she countered, then gave a shrug before adding. "Previously a little map dot ranch you've never heard of. A little place called Prosper, like some kind of sick joke." A far cry from 'the Queen of the Rockies' no doubt. But most early lives of the kids here probably were. This little drop of sunshine and snowflakes ought to learn that now before reality came a calling. Her arms uncrossed a bit now and her fingers moving. It probably looked like she was picking at her skin, but that wasn't quite the truth. With a lack of hair on her head-and as Katy probably noticed now with a closer look a complete lack of eyebrows and eyelashes save for a little drawn on with eyeliner- Tara Anne had adjust a bit to pulling out her arm and leg hair bit by bit. Slowly the skin started to redden, irritated from the stress and abuse.

'...My Mom and Doctor sent me across the country to hopefully get help here...'

A little snort met this comment, but Tara Anne let her finish. All questioning and concerned. Like a little lost fawn standing on the center line of a highway. It was a little tragic and a little pathetic at the same time. Tara wasn't sure if she ought to give her a good tough love kick or put her out of her misery entirely. Another side still suggested she should maybe help the girl, or at the least leave her be and let St. Christina's do the wake-up call work. Maybe even give her a dose of hope and encouragement. She decided on the kick. That was the middle ground after all.

"I've been here six months." She said simply. Half a year with half a country between her and her family. Half a year of her daughter's life. It hurt to even say it out loud. Vivien's first birthday had been two months ago. Right when she became the cause of so much trouble. But naturally no one noticed. This was St Christina's after all, and no different from Hadley she was just another troublesome lost girl they had to deal with. Meanwhile the people who made her this way were 'happily' living their lives free.

"Do I looked real helped? Real fixed to you?" A little more anger rising in her, Tara Anne thrust her arms out, displaying the strangely parallel and straight-as-arrows scars running across the inside of her forearms. A little too perfect of lines to be created by the shaky hands of an emotional self-harmer. She normally didn't point them out. "Don't bother expecting them to help you here. You're always better off helping yourself." Tara Anne walked past her, further into a room that wasn't her's. She walked over to the window and looked out on the the courtyard outside. "Don't let yourself be dumb enough to try to rely on anyone in here, especially not an adult. But then, that's just a rule for life in general really..."

"You've got a nice view." She added in a side note, turning back around to look at the girl again. Her fingers pulling out her arm hairs once more. "So, what's so wrong about you that you figure you need to fix yourself up with drugs and a new home? You seem disturbingly well-adjusted to me... Or is that happiness thanks to a lot of street drugs."


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Post by Guest on Tue Jul 19, 2011 11:39 pm

The venom that came with the tone the other girl used was enough to knock the strongest of men dead. Katy was shocked when the girl smirked, looking at her like she didn't know anything about anything. Katy immediately felt small, hurt, and angry that this person would just waltz into her room and start taking out her anger on her.

She was about to say something, when the girl began to pick at her skin. The area on her arm got more and more red, but the girl kept picking. Is that why her hair was so short? When Katy first noticed the drawn on eyebrows and the lack of hair, she thought the girl suffered from Alopecia. Thursdays after her appointments with Dr. Wilkes, she would often see a girl with drawn on eyebrows and flamboyant wigs sitting in the waiting room. Dr. Wilkes wouldn't mention much about the girl, but when Katy asked Tony the receptionist, he told her that she was struggling with Alopecia, and was losing all her hair. Katy prided herself on her long, dark brown hair - she enjoyed twisting it into an updo, braiding the length, or even just wearing it in a ponytail. She couldn't imagine what the Thursday appointment girl was going through, and she used to count her blessings that she didn't suffer a similar fate.
But then this blonde girl with her pink fedora and bad attitude didn't seem to have Alopecia. It looked like she was tugging at her hairs, ripping them out of her arm. What would cause a person to do that? And why did she have long scars on her forearms? The blonde was talking to her, but Katy hadn't been paying attention, she was transfixed on the red splotch and the arms thrust out in front of her.

"Don't bother expecting them to help you here. You're always better off helping yourself."

Now she was looking out the window. Katy hadn't even had the opportunity to look out of it. Just who did this girl think she was?

No. Katy was going to be nice to this girl. This was an opportunity to make new friends, to start fresh.

She was still looking at the window, and had resumed pulling on her arm hairs. Should Katy ask about it? Was that rude? This girl already didn't seem to like her... would this simply set her off?

Street Drugs? Did she look like a druggie? There was not a single blemish on Katy's face! Okay... maybe a persistent spot on her chin... but she didn't look like some cracked out menace to society! Katy chose to ignore the jab, and instead focus on the question.

Why was she here? What made St. Christina's the only option?

"My boyfriend," Katy started, going and sitting on her bed. "Both my Doctor and my Mother don't think he's very good for me. He went to jail because of me, and now I'm waiting for him to get out of jail so we can marry and I can be a good wife... maybe even a good mother. But there's an age difference, and they think I've been brainwashed or something into loving him. My Max."

She worried she said too much. While trying to contain her anger, she seemed to lose control of her mouth and it all just flowed out. In the grand scheme of things, her problems didn't seem to compare. She wasn't pulling out her hair, she was relatively scar free - she was just in love.

"Truthfully, I don't think I need to be here - with the medications and all... But they wanted to prove something, I guess. Get me away from Max, so I can't call him or visit him... see if that changes things. But it won't. I love him, and that's never going to change."

She sighed in frustration. This was probably getting her nowhere. Maybe this was destined to be - like the girl said - a hell. Maybe Katy just wouldn't be able to connect with other girls her age anymore. She felt certain that would be brought up in therapy.

"Listen, you seem like you've had it really bad. Compared to you, I've had it really easy. But do you know what it feels like to love someone with all your heart and to not be allowed to see them? I feel like a piece of me is missing sometimes."

Katy had started to tear up. Thinking about Max was getting to her. This was going to be much harder than she initially anticipated. She blinked away the tears, hoping the other girl didn't spot the weakness.

"Anyways, I don't even know your name. Who are you? And why are you here?"


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Post by Guest on Sun Jul 31, 2011 8:06 pm

Tara Anne pressed her lips together tightly, listening to the girl's story and forcing herself to bite her tongue. She'd heard this song and dance before. In fact she'd seen it's birth back on the ranch. Young girl, impressionable and gullible, in the hands of a man too much older, too much wiser, and with too much of a underground motive. Manipulation was never pretty and it came so easily to some. And it came with such a price tag. The kind that can leave a young girl drained out and dried up. Left like a long-forgotten fall leaf, crunched into dust, at St Christina's Rehabilitation Hospital. Either to get right or to fade away. Dependent on how the sorry wind happened to blow her way.

Feeling a trickle of pity now, Tara softened a little. She never liked to hear about a girl twisted around by a guy on a power trip. She'd met a few like Katy around St. Christina's and its predecessor of the Hadley Institute, the ones who couldn't see what was wrong, even if the true Adults in their lives could. Maybe if she was lucky someone would take the interest required to help her. If not, her own skewed world view would probably keep her hopelessly stuck there. Tara considered 'helping' her with her own special brand of reality realization. But what with them only having just met it wouldn't take much for the new girl to just straight up tell her to get lost. And as much as Tara Anne wasn't big on the idiotic girly population she was feeling rather lonely lately. The marginal success of befriending her new room-mate Ellen, Tara was driven to keep trying, at least a little.

"Yeah actually, I completely know what that's like." She admitted, giving a nod and turning to face the new girl fully again. However could any mother fail to love their own daughter with every muscle and fragment of their heart and soul? Hell, she probably knew the feeling with more intensity than anyone. Katy made a good point. There was nothing wrong with feeling that, she probably just needed to redirect that love to someone more deserving. Like herself. "I'm Tara Anne... Quick, if you're into last names. I'm an ex-cultie." She said, as a sort of severely abridged kind of explanation. After all her life story was something of a doozy and her diagnoses where enough that you certainly couldn't make note of them on her hand or anything. "You might meet a few of us here actually, every so often they get a new one in. Really makes you love organized religion, right? So basically I'm messed up from here to the next millennium so I'll spare you the details unless you want them."

Tara Anne looked around the room and took a seat on one of the empty beds. Crossing one leg over the other and tucking her hands under her bottom for a moment. Trying to control the urge to pull, if only for a moment. "So, what makes this guy so special? Oh, and why do you think he'll be sticking around? I'm sure your not the only vagina he's ever seen.... I mean, unless he swings both ways I suppose."


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