Suffer The Children
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I've faced my demons, Wrestling these angels to the ground (AJ)

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I've faced my demons, Wrestling these angels to the ground (AJ) Empty I've faced my demons, Wrestling these angels to the ground (AJ)

Post by Michael Courtenay Wed Jul 20, 2011 1:57 am

It had been almost two months since he first arrived at St. Christina's... and Michael Courtenay officially had cabin fever. Boredom had washed away fear of sudden change at this point, which he wasn't about to argue with. Michael wasn't used to boredom- he always gave himself something to do when he lived with his mom. His options weren't limited to cleaning, pitching at the target outside, homework or visiting Alan, but they took up most of his free time. (Cleaning being much more dominant above the others, though homework was completed first.) Even when he lived in the youth home he had more stuff to do than he did at St. Christina's- this was most likely due to Jorge's unbounded energy, however. This was their rhythm: Jorge came up with the scheme, Michael followed it, they both got in trouble, they were at it again. It was a continuous cycle, and although it prevented boredom, it also made Michael feel extraordinary amounts of guilt that came along with social acceptance. Jorge didn't seemed at all phased by rule-breaking (He'd done it his whole life) but guilt had pretty much taken over Michael's life since he was very young, so each scheme was added one by one to Michael's Hurting People list... and it wasn't like he could say no. He was just glad that he wasn't getting into so much trouble here.

Michael was running out of things to amuse himself with. He already made a list of things to keep him from going insane in the journal that Teagan gave him before he left for the island. He already wrote to Jorge, his mom and Alan... and refused to write to his "sperm donor" (a.k.a. his father), he looked for everyone he previously knew already, refused to read his copy of "The Fellowship of the Ring" because it had Golem in it, and had even taken up another hobby: he was so bored that he made an octopus out of orange duct tape, and was planning on giving it to Talon when he saw him next. Michael hoped his big brother would like it- he even gave the octopus MIB shades, also out of duct tape. He was eager to give it to Talon, but unfortunately, he was out. It wasn't like Michael was resentful either- Talon was in Ward C, so it was only natural that he would be gone some days. He hoped he was having fun, wherever he was.

Michael had been staring out the window of Room A2 for longer than he realized himself. Nate, Connor and him had a view- Floor A was on the top floor, after all... unfortunately, all three of them and the other denizens of Ward A couldn't actually leave the grounds. Michael was starting to re-think how okay he was with the day leave rules. He didn't think it was fair- Nate and Connor weren't dangerous either... definitely not as dangerous as the handbook claimed them to be.

Michael took a long breath and a frustrated groan became his exhalation as his forehead flopped against the glass. "There's no-thing to-do..."

Just like how Michael wasn't used to boredom, he wasn't used to complaining either. His stomach sank due to the guilt, as his thoughts berated him.

'You complained.'
'You complained.'
'You complained.'
'You complained.'
'You complained.'
'You complained on July 20th, 2011.'
'What is wrong with you?'
'That's not how your mother raised you.'
'You complained.'

"I'm so sorry!" His mousy voice became stricken with panic again. His apology was meant for Nate or Connor... although it was clear that they didn't care from the absence of reply.

Michael sighed, pushing off on the window and decided to get out of the room. He felt too guilty, and wouldn't know what he was going to do at light's out when he had to face his roommates again. Something in the back of his head was telling him that they weren't affected by his crime- Connor usually kept to himself anyway and Nate didn't seem to judge. They probably wouldn't think twice about it. Still...

Michael's steps were quickened, but he was very careful that he wasn't running like the first day he came to St. Christina's.

'You ran through the hallways.'
'You ran through the hallways.'
'You ran through the hallways.'
'You ran through the hallways.'
'You ran through the hallways on June 3rd, 2011.'
'You could have crashed into someone like you did on January 29th your last year at Graveraft Middle School.'
'That poor girl was late to her class.'
'You're a terrible person.'
'You ran through the hallways.'

Michael bit his lip as he entered the Robertson family room. He prayed to God that there was someone else in there so that his OCD would shut up. It was what he felt he deserved, of course, but it became unbearable at times. He was already on edge because he walked alone thus far.

He was relieved to see there was someone else in the room. The bright and cheerful smile on his face was definitely not forced- he was so glad he had company. Maybe his thoughts would stop repeating once he talked to someone.

"Hey there!" He gave a small wave as he walked toward the person he was addressing. "Mind if I join you? I'm really really bored. I'm in Ward A, so I can't go outside the hospital at all. I underestimated how bored I would be- I can't clean here, so that's kind of troublesome. That's all I really did back in Michigan. Anyway, sorry, I'm talking too much- I'm Michael. What's your name?"
Michael Courtenay
Michael Courtenay

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