Ichigo Kana blinked her eyes rapidly as she woke up. How did I get in bed? Ichigo Kana sat up and rubbed her eyes. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. The last thing I remember was my head hurting and... Ichigo Kana gasped. No...My first day here and it already happened? Please don't tell me she already hurt someone. Ichigo Kana tightly closed her eyes. She opened them wide when she felt that familiar pain in her head. No! Kana gabbed her head and screwed her eyes shut. Fisting and pulling on her hair she tried to mentally will the pain away but she couldn't stop it.
As soon as the pain died she opened her eyes again and smirked. Kana looked around the strange room. What the...Where am I? She got off of the bed and made her way to the door. When she left the room she had to protect her eyes with her arm form the harsh bright light of the hall. Kana wondered down the the cold floors peaking into the other rooms. When she got to the end of the hall she stopped. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as reality hit her. I'm in a mental hospital.
Kyo was persistent in believing that he was one of the most intelligent men that had ever set foot in the hospital.
And it was true, he was certainly one of the most intelligent of all patients. Even some of the doctors, he was sure, couldn't match up to his mental abilities. Like his psychiatrist, who after two years and two months, hadn't done a thing. Not that any of this was important to Kyo, there was nothing wrong with him. He didn't need some 'cure' or medicine. He needed understanding, for these people to realise that he was, indeed, God.
Most of the time, he was left alone by both patients and staff due to his occasional outbreaks. But recently the young man had been well behaved, quiet almost.
The voices had been distant, and it almost annoyed him. Kyo was sure that it was just their way of plotting something, trying to ruin his prophecy.
The morning when they came back, he was almost delighted. It meant that he had to cleanse himself now, carve prophesies into his body to keep the devils away.
This, too, wasn't a problem. By two years, he had quite a collection of sharp objects, ranging from razorblades, to stanley knives, to simple cutlery. Some things he stole from staff, others he'd found.
Now, he was quite happily sat underneath a large green tree in the garden. It was the quiet time, the personal time. The time for him to get the doubters, the unbelievers out of his body.
Without hesitation, he pressed the blade of a razor into his already scared arm, outlining a 'p', in English. The blood quickly started to flow.
Open to: Everyone
It was humid. Humid, too unpleasant, and anything he could make up that would make Toshiya give himself another reason to hate this place. Oh yes, and then there were the patients. The patients that he absolutely did -not- feel anything friendly for. Maybe it were troubles in adapting to his new environment, but it felt like he couldn't associate with anyone because they were all complete lunatics. He groaned audibly when someone actually came running by, screaming, as if to underline his thoughts. Why was he put here anyway?
Toshiya was toying with an abacus. Such a useless item but interesting enough to kill time with. How long was he going to stay here anyway? But all the while he did with the slightest bit of hope observe the other patients, hoping that maybe, maybe, there was someone like him out there, someone whom he could at least relate to. After all, he was alone here just like everybody else.
Where: His bedroom, staff canteen.
When: Around 11 am.
Open to: Staff.
The large amount of new patients that had been introduced to the hospital did not interest Tatsuya in the slightest.
His shift didn't start until later on tonight, after all, so for him, several hours were to be spent doing something productive. Of course, Tatsuya had planned his initial meetings with the patients in advance. All the introductory meetings were always the same anyway, and judging by the sorts of patients they had in this time, most of them would take a while before they got comfortable enough to speak to him.
So now, he had four hours to waste, which was a delight to the black haired man, as he took out the small bottle from his bedside table, that was only really intended for patients.
Tatsuya's pupils dilated even before the drug was even in his system, a sense of excitement rushing over him as he took out one of the small tablets, studying it as if he'd never seen it before, which wasn't true at all.
One of the reasons why Tatsuya stayed here for so long was because their drugs were so easily accessible, and when questioned, he'd just simply say that the patients were getting out of hand, and needed more morphine.
A sense of delight fell through his body when the morphine began to take place.
Soon enough his limbs had lost that heavy feeling, and by the time Tatsuya had found himself in the staff dining room, he was cheerfully clasping his hands together, and shooting crooked smiles in all directions.
He didn't even realise that he was eating. But apparently, porridge was for breakfast
Where: Halls, going towards the dining area.
When: Around 8am.
Open to: Anyone!
A pale yellow light shone lazily through the one window in the room. The bars blocking off the glass didn't provide a homely and comfortable feel at all, like he was reassured. Especially with the strip of grey shadow over his eyes, Die had began to feel especially awkward.
It was his first morning in the hospital, maybe even the second. All that Dai Andou was really aware of was the clammy texture of the walls, and a comforting roar of hunger in his stomach.
He could recall, that despite not putting up a struggle, an injection was forced into his arm anyway, taking his consciousness within seconds. In a dazed state, he heard voices, felt his clothes removed, and realised that his body had been thrown into a cell, a single cell, before he lost consciousness completely.
And now, he was awake.
He wasn't woken naturally either, but rather by a loud ringing bell, which was later accompanied by a masculine voice (a nurse, perhaps?) telling them all to get up.
Now, he waited quietly and patiently by the bars, until they were open. He was told to follow the other patients into the dinner hall, since he didn't know where it was.
Awkwardly, Die wriggled himself to be the last in the line, eyeing the depressing grey pyjamas of his fellow inmates. What an odd feeling, to be clinically insane.