For days Tommy had let himself remained stowaway, hidden up in his room, body at war; mind even more so. It could have been weeks. The aches, the pains, riddling his nerve endings and plaguing his mind—was it so impossible for him to have forgotten time itself existed? Bad trip, he’d thought, just trying to forget. Trying to ignore the growing signs. Too many pills, or rather, not enough.

  It shouldn’t have been this bad. He’d been well, had he not? In recent weeks things had been…good. They’d been chipper and cheery and everything they oh-so-obviously should not have been. Not for Thomas Parker, no. They should never have been. But he’d found a hope, a little pretty thing with raven locks and eyes that rivalled the blues of any winters past. Even in their shortcomings, their worst ways and addictions—Tommy had found a bit of himself in Tim. Found a bit of himself here at Castle.

  The had been in the beginnings of patching things up with Abby, he’d been recovering from his more recent confrontation with Doctor Sullivan. He’d been doing more and more and more, putting effort into others, into himself. He’d been trying and trying was not something Tommy was used to. He did or he didn’t—simple. He was or he wasn’t. It just was with him. No explanations.

  Tom’s feet sprawled themselves out over the length of his bed, his head resting at the edge of one corner, one of his feet hanging off the mattress; kicking lightly at the air. He was bored, he was pained. He had to get out of this room but he just couldn’t bring himself to. What laid outside was painful, it was bright. It was facing himself and Tommy was still running from that. But somehow with a small protesting groan, his feet shifted; his ribs and his bones and his marrow and sinews moved as one toward his bedroom door and he was. He was a person again. Living, breathing, blinking. He ran his palm over the handle, pulling the door open slowly. White walls with bright light. The smell of Clorox misted the air, and...food. Something sweet, like honey rolls. Castle usually ruined their meals, made mush of whatever they served, but hot dam; they could make some mean honey rolls. Toms favourite of the moment, according to his rumbling stomach.

  Tom winced as he rolled the tightness from his shoulders. Eyes fell upon him, prickled at his skin. He averted his glance, wishing not to see. But he would. He had to. Face yourself, face your fears—Tommy was done with that losing game.

 Tom stretched his shoulders out bare before his small bedroom mirror. His stitches had finally settled into the sensitive curves above his collarbones. His flesh had accepted them. The snaking centipede of a scar still etched itself into his chest. Disgusting. Tommy tapped his index finger against its center. He could feel the flesh risen there, the lines fighting in all directions. How uneven it had healed. Not like half of his own self infliction’s had ever healed quite to his liking. This scar drew attention. Not like the scars on his shoulder blades born from a lovers will, no, not that kind of attention. Not that kind of reprieve. He’d welcomed those stares, those averted second glances and furrowed brows. This was nothing like that. There was nothing pure, nothing remotely accepting about that scar, and yet; there it was. For all the world to see. His world, mainly. He half considered cutting the defect from his chest, or perhaps letting Timothy cut it from him. He wanted no reminders of torture—less it be of his own.

  It had been days since he’d been with his other. With Timothy. It was highly unusual, even Tom could feel the distance. It shouldn’t have been. Solitary was the usual for the pewter hued blonde. In Chicago, it was all they could offer him, given his ‘condition’. Here, at the Castle, he found himself craving the attention and company of another. Just one, really. All others were of disinterest. They couldn’t keep Tommy’s attention for more than a few moments, for perhaps just a light, the draw of a cigarette. That was all. Tom grabbed a light white patient uniform shirt from his dresser, throwing it over his shoulder and sliding through his ajar door.

  The light on his body was never a welcome sensation. It beat the breaking shadows and shifting night that usually engulfed the Castle—still. Timothy’s room wasn’t far. No introductions, no breaking in, no warning. Tom turned the copper handle, pushing the door open and stepping inside, only turning back to close the door behind him. He pulled the shirt from his shoulders, slipping it over him before letting a smirk spread over his lips, calm, insinuation far from there. He could be real here. Not just a doll on display, a puppet made for talking. He could smile, laugh, joke, and just simply be.

useless-kyle:

The institute was quiet, too damn quiet if Kyle could have a say in the situation. It bothered him for an odd reason, to have the place so quiet and well, calm. There was always some sort of whining, or screaming and crying, patients running around loosely and doctors calling after them as they tried to give them their medicine, or to get them to bed. Either way, the place was calm. It was even creepier now that it was so quiet than before. The screaming and the grunting was just a sign that the place still had some sort of living inside, and it was comforting to Kyle to know that he wasn’t alone in a huge place like this. 

He kept walking down the corridors, silent and thoughtful, as he tried to find someone that was still awake. Since Kyle was already dead - which he hated, mind you - he didn’t need to sleep like the mortals did, nor he needed to eat and shower like all the patients and nurses around Castle Grove, so Kyle used this time to walk around and think, make a few pranks and overall feel useful. That was the only purpose Kyle had now, the only thing that made him feel connected to the world was to help others, or to push them around. Both ways made him feel useful and well, not so detached from the world as he sometimes felt, as he had felt his last few minutes before he had died. 

He stopped walking when he noticed that a light was on though, which struck him as strange, due to the fact that it was a little later than four in the morning and most of the nurses were asleep, and the ones that weren’t just spent their times smoking or reading in the living room. Deciding to see what was up with that patient, he became invisible and stepped inside the room. 

  Tom wasn’t insomniatic. He should have been sleeping, dozing, off in his own world by now—but he wasn’t. Instead the blonde lay there sprawled about his bed, marred arms tucked neatly behind his head in the shade of a yellowing bed-side lamp light. He couldn’t fall to sleep on nights like this. It bothered him, this fear of his. The one fear he doubted many knew of. It was irrational. Idiotic. Childlike. Weak—That’s how Tom viewed his fears. All of them. But this…? He couldn’t push past it. The lamp beside him flickered. His head jerked to the side, eyes sharpening as they focused on the bulbs wavering luminescence. His chest tightened for just a second. He remembered what if felt like, completely enveloped by the night. He remembered how for a month, when he was seven, he couldn’t speak. His screams had rubbed his vocal chords raw, drawn them bloodied and useless. His teachers merely thought him stubborn. That was alright. It’s not like he wasn’t. Tommy wouldn’t let anyone else know how badly just a flickered lamps light, a moment of insecurity, of blindness; how it could affect him. It was an advantage to all others—his secret—it was his weakness and his downfall. Why on earth would anyone reveal that much of themselves to anyone? Abby had caught on, somehow, he’d guessed. From his first night at Castle. Tim? Oh, even the blonde, naive as he chose to be, knew that Timothy picked up on those things. 

  Tom flipped onto his stomach, lying his growing stubble onto his bleached, Clorox-reeking pillow case. He ran his hand over his dresser surface, pulling open his top dresser drawer. A moment later his slender fingers resurfaced, holding a pack won over Chess from the previous day, and a lighter he’d stolen from an Orderly. It was during times like this Tom missed (hissmallerbrunettelover) Tim. He hadn’t seen the boy in quite some time and that addiction was something nicotine couldn’t kill. Couldn’t even take the edge off with. Tom sufficed, however. He would always have to. One long drag and a flitted eyelid later he had calmed himself. His nerves slowly broke their rampage, his blood fell silent beneath the muscles and tendons that sat above them. Another breath. Another drag. Smoke and ash. His throat no longer felt the burn. Not when you smoke nearly a pack a day, no. The only burn Tommy Parker felt was in a little cavity nestled tight in the left side of his rib-cage, just below his collarbone. And it stung like a bitch.

  Tom had won a poker game. Well, technically it had been a forfeit  (Tom couldn’t play poker to save his life). When you’re partner’s a severe schizophrenic with paranoid tendencies and has the competence of a sack of well boiled potatoes (give or take the firmness by an half hour or so, Tom was feeling generous), you really don’t have a lot of room to lose. And so, the blue hued blonde walked away with five cigarettes and a lighter three-fourths full with his favorite fluid. Today was a damn good day for Tommy Parker.

  The blonde walked away from his partner, giving the younger boy a quick node, wink and salute. His smirk was fitted firmly on his pale lips today. Dangerous for Tom. On these days, not giving a fuck almost always meant trouble. Not that he minded of course, with him, could he ever? Tommy pulled out his first cigarette, feeling the crisp tape of the pack break as his nail ran along its edge. The blonde flipped a cigarette into his palm, running it through his slender fingers for a second before setting flame to the nicotine stuffed sticks end. His smile only broadened as he plopped down on the leather couch on the other side of the common room. Somewhere in the distance a television blipped and purred. Someone adjusted it. Attempted to. Futile. Tom closed his eyes, cigarette hanging in a loose fashion from his lips as he settled down into the couches confines. He took in a deep drag, feeling the bitter ash graze his larynx and infect his lungs. “Fuckin’ amazing.” he whispered, heavy lids closing for a moment as he tilted his chin forward, smoke leaving him in a steady stream. 

  More bandages. More. Thick and stiff. It would take effort to break them now, to dig down into his stitches. New stitches. That’s what they’d given him. Clean wounds, new hatred, no strength. No, effort was definitely something Tommy Parker no longer possessed. The blonde sighed, leaning back into the couch he now sat on. Where was he? Tom shook his head. Like he gave a damn. He was in hell, no, purgatory. Worse even. Fuck, did it even matter? The responsibility for his actions, the actions of others—others, Gil‘—Weighed down on him. Much as the blonde wanted to deny any fault for the past events, he couldn’t. He never would. He knew damn well what he’d done. He always would.

  The blue eyed blonde crossed his arms in his lap, noticing only now the silence that surrounded him. Where had everyone gone? Why did he care…? Tom closed his eyes, only for a moment, only one. Too many. He re-opened them, skin tingling within their tight bandages. He knew that feeling, didn’t he? Marlena had felt the same way, her presence, her aura…No. This wasn’t Marlena.

lisa-janekeller:

Lisa had simply been wandering around the halls for the past half hour, obviously having nothing better to do with her time. She walked- well, actually, when she got bored of walking, she started to skip down the halls, humming along to a tune that she’d never really heard before- but liked anyways. Her eyes wandered to the doors along the hallways, looking at their numbers. She paused in decision when she reached one she thought would be nice to enter. She took a long stride towards it, clearing the distance between her and the door in a moment. She tilted her head slightly at it, deep in thought. She wasn’t exactly clear headed at the moment. Well, she never really was, but this time was different. She hadn’t been able to get a single instant of sleep during the past few days. She was awfully tired. She yawned, covering a hand over her mouth in a polite manner.

She didn’t bother knocking, she didn’t find the need to. She plainly turned the knob and let herself in, closing the door swiftly behind her. She leaned on the door, giving a small smile. She hadn’t realized whose room this was until she entered it. She almost frowned. It’s not that she was disappointed, she was simply expecting someone different was all. Who were you expecting? You don’t even have any friends. I have friends! …You’re an awkward child, aren’t you? She bit down on her bottom lip for a split second, as if to tell herself to be quiet. “Hello sir!” She greeted happily, as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with her barging into his room. “Lovely day we’re having.” She commented, nodding her head to herself as if to be agreeing with what she was saying. “How are you anyways?” She asked, casually looking about the room. Her room sure was different than his.

  Tommy stared at the ceiling from the opposite side of the room. The blonde did not lay in his own bed, but another’s. His former roommate, Anthony’s bed to be exact. Anthony had been gone for quite some time now. Somehow the blonde found himself missing the company, the presence of another who cared not what he did while alone. It upset him, the way he had begun to long interaction with others. Tommy, for seven years, had been alone. Not one friend. He’d hadn’t wanted one. Well, that was a lie. The blue eyed blonde had wanted a friend—one friend. Gilbert Alton. But where was the red head now? Tom sighed, rolling over onto his stomach. Tom didn’t know where he was now. He was in a purgatory of sorts. Days kept passing but the boy did not count them, didn’t notice they had even come and gone. It was excruciating to think that this would be his life if he remained doing nothing. God, how he longed to feel. How he longed.

  The door whipped open, an unfamiliar face slipping through. The blonde nearly bared his teeth at the intruder, eyes like steel. A girl this time, not a nurse, a fucking patient. She looked young, maybe his age. The brunette girl had a brightness about her, a light as he bounded into his hideaway. Tom shut himself off, anger spiraling through his body. “Darling,” He growled, tilting his head to one side. “You don’t just go bustin’ into any random crazies room.” Tom was irritated and on edge. This girl didn’t know who he was, evidently. He’d show her. Oh, he would have fun with it too. As the brunette remained in his doorway, Tom straightened himself. His voice softened as she continued to ask him questions. The blonde threw the girl a leer, voice leaving him with a musing edge. “Curiosity killed the cat, dontchya’ know?” Tommy Parker sat up in his bed, eyes focused on the other.

willowp:

The way Tommy spoke was particularly..odd. She knew about Tommy and knew that he wasn’t as crazy as some of the others, like Landon, but Willow knew that he was pretty depressed. “One of the good guys?” Willow defenses went down, a smirk rising up on the corners of her mouth. “I don’t think the word ‘good’ is a word we can use around here.” She chuckled, shrugging a bit. She looked around his room, finding vinyl and records against his counter. She peered over, noticing Elvis Presley was among the small group. “No Simon and Garfunkel?” She looked over at him, eyes raised. Simon and Garfunkel had to be one of her most favorite bands, finding their music always put her in a calm mood. 

She laughed at the way he said his name, nodding slowly as if she was deep in thought. “We were blessed with bad names, I suppose.” Though, she still found hers to be the worse of the two. Who names their child after a tree? And an ugly tree at that?! 

She listened as he spoke about her, digesting the little things he said. At least it wasn’t anything bad or embarrassing. Maybe someone had heard about the scuffle between Willow and Jason..She shook her thoughts away to refocus her attention on the boy in front of her. “Admirable?” She scoffed, her eyes rolling. “I didn’t know someone that liked to kill their sister’s cat and had an alcohol problems was defined as admirable.” She took a tiny bow as she remained on the bed, a small laugh sounding from the back of her throat. “Thanks, I guess.” She shrugged, now changing her attention on the Day of the Dead. “Hm… Well I was thinking about grabbing any snacks I could find. I know they said to just grab crackers but…” She thought of the perfect way to phrase it, “I find it to be lazy. Who the hell just wants to eat saltine crackers all night? I figured we could sort of travel to find things.” 

Willow looked around as to check to make sure nobody else was around. “I know how to reach the basement pretty easily. Landon and I, well Jason actually, we had this big plan of stealing the nurse’s keys. The keys can practically open anything so I figured after we sneak up to the kitchen that maybe we can hit the basement next. I’m sure we can find even better things down there that nobody has found yet.” Her eyes were locked on his, waiting for any expression that might help her plan their adventure. 

  Tom leaned back, smoke trailing out after his laughter. “There are a lot of great things about this place!” He mused, smiling. “Just gotta’ look for it.” He didn’t know whether he believe himself then. He had found happiness here, despite all he’d been through. All that had been done to him at ever previous institution. He had Gil’. He had Abby. Hell, despite the obvious lack of faith in himself, he was even making friends. That scared him more than anything. People liking him. He would dissapoint in the end. “Just gotta’ look for it…” He breathed. Tom noticed Willow’s eyes wandering over to his record collection. He didn’t have much, but it was enough to keep him satisfied. He shook his head at her question. “Who?” His expression dropped to a curious amusement. After a few seconds he dropped his facade, laughing a bit. “I never had enough to buy their records, girly. Hell, I stole half of these.” Another long drag. Tommy wasn’t very particular on music. If it had a decent beat and he could listen to it without ripping the record off the player half way through the song—it stayed. “You a fan?” He asked. “Simon and Garfunkel?”

  Tommy sat up straight, stretching out his back. He ran a pale hand through his golden hair, yawning. “I never had a cat.” Tommy smirked, taking another puff. “Girl I knew down in Chicago did, though. Annoying little fuck I’ll tell you that. Always meowing in the dead a’ night.” Tom smiled. “I don’t blame you.” He nodded. “Others have done things much more severe,” He ran his fingers over his arms. The surface was ridden with speed-bump like flesh, raised and white. Many of his newer wounds were healing, leaving him with annoyingly itchy scabs. He hated it. “And not just to animals.” He paused, removing his hand. “Or to ourselves.” Tom shrugged once more, eyes trailing from the flame of his cigarette to Willow. “And you’re name is pretty neat,” he nodded in reassurance. “Blessed with bad names, I like that.” He pointed a finger at her, laughing. When Willow spoke of the ‘Day of the Dead’ Tommy nodded, scooting closer atop his bed. “Yeah, I catch ya’ on that one. Fuck the crackers. I heard about alcohol from Raelynn, but I’m pretty sure if you’ve got that kind of hook-up, sharing’s not really an option.” He gave her a wink. “Basement?” Tom smiled. Well, hell, let the adventure begin. “Done.” He nodded, flicking the butt  of his cigarette across the room.

  “I’ll take anything you throw at me, doll.” He assured her. “I wasn’t thrown in here because I let other people have their way. If there’s somethin’ better than crackers down in the there basement,” Tom grinned. “We’ll get it.” Tom stood up, stretching his back out with a groan. “Now are you and Jason gonna’ have all the fun, or can I jump in on the action too?” 

kylexjensen:

A man who could say a lot in a few words; Kyle liked this kid already. He was appreciative, he didn’t grill him about beating his brother. The ghost was extremely secretive about a lot of things in his life when he was alive and even after death no one could pry them from him. Kyle began scratching at the insides of his arms unconsciously as Tommy offered him a cigarette. It was extremely tempting but he knew damn well he couldn’t have one even if he wanted to.

“I haven’t smoked in a long fucking time.”

Kyle shrugged as his nails dug deeper into his flesh, reopening old wounds by tearing the scabs off and causing blood to bubble to the surface. His pale colored orbs flickered to the television where a nurse was trying to get it to work, a few other patients argued with her about how to fix it. This was typical, he should’ve known better than to get his hopes up on having entertainment for the night. At least he had someone to talk to. The ghost’s attention moved back to Tommy; he carefully watched him for a moment. “Ever heard of the ghosts around this hell hole?” He tried to keep his tone casual but it came out more curious than anything. This kid seemed alright, maybe Kyle could let him in on his little secret and he’d be alright with it. “I heard there’s a couple of ‘em floating about.”

  Tom pulled the cigarette to his lips, nodding when the boy responded. “I catch you, man.” He smiled, shrugging as he pulled out his lighter. He pulled the flame to his lips, smoke seeping through the cracks of his fingers. “I should quit.” He laughed. “One of these days it’ll kill me.” He blew the smoke into the air. A few patients turned around at the smell of the bitter ash. Tom mouthed them a casual, ‘fuck off’ and turned back to his new found conversational partner. “I’ll just have to wait till’ then.” He nodded, eyes far off into the distance. “It’s a good thing,” Tom tilted his head to the side, still so far away. “That you haven’t. Wish I had that kind of will power.” Another lie. Tommy liked being a chain smoker. He liked it at thirteen and he sure as hell wasn’t about to quit for anybody sake. Not even his own.

  As Kyle began digging into his arms Tommy turned. Spurts of blood dribbled down his pale skin like a painters stroke, small and intricate. Tom hesitated, wondering if the kid was just nervous or it was just a habit. Habit, Tommy understood. Most of the fine lines dragged across his skin were accidents. “You sure you don’t want a smoke?” Tommy joked, chin pointed towards the boys bleeding arms. 

  Tommy raised his brow at the boys comment of ghosts within the Castle. “I haven’t heard,” He was intrigued. This kid knew how to play his cards. For once, Tom was interested. “Got any stories you’d like to share?” He asked. “As for believing in ghosts,” He continued, another long whisp of smoke reaching out from his chapped lips. “Can’t say I don’t believe.” He turned his cold glacier blues on the boy next to him, waiting.

kylexjensen:

I haven’t heard of you yet.

Shocker. Kyle almost shot back in a sarcastic tone at the boy but he bit his tongue instead. Instead of growing agitated he breathed slowly out of his nose: it wasn’t Tommy’s fault he didn’t know Kyle was dead. Most patients didn’t but the old “haven’t seen you round these parts” got on his nerves more than anything. Instead he offered the boy a slight smile. “I keep to myself.” He said casually with a shrug, his usual response to everything.

“You get sad and kill people? Join the club, we’ve got jackets.” He snorted with a chuckle, his smile curling into a sneer. “Me? I beat my brother to a pulp. I get angry, s’all. I can’t control it so I break things or hit people, or hurt myself. I guess that makes me a nutter as much as the others in here. And…and don’t ask me why I beat him.” His sneer faltered and turned into a frown. “Hartman’s been trying to get it out of me for awhile but I won’t tell so don’t bother askin’.” He turned away from him, his tone was much harsher than he meant it to be and after a moment of awkward silence he glanced over at Tommy. “Sorry, I get asked a lot why I did it and I’d rather not talk about it. But what about you, who did you try to kill?”

  Tommy appreciated the small response as much he could. He nodded, eyes lost. “I’m not very good at that.” He laughed, cutting it short. Tom liked socializing. He was deprived of it for so long now, he literally felt like he fed off of the energy of others. He craved it in both bad moods and good. Withdrawals and fits. It didn’t matter anymore, not to him. 

“Don’t go and make it sound so normal there,” Tom laughed, eyes sharpening. “Being sad is a serious deal.” He laughed. “Jackets aren’t my thing.” Tom stretched his arms out before him. The countless white, raised carvings covering his skin reflected in the low lighting like speed-bumps on asphalt.  Tommy listened to the boy as he went on about the beating of his brother. He smiled, knowing he shouldn’t have liked the sound of it as much as he did. Tommy could relate, the beatings. Only he had been the one beaten previous. It had been years since he’d been beaten. Now he was the one dishing out assaults, he’d never go back. It was obvious this kid wouldn’t either. “Don’t stress, man. I ain’t your Therapist. Why the fuck would I wanna’ know?” He gave the kid an appreciative nod. Saved him from that sob story. “Me?” Tommy shook his head. “Y’know,” He laughed, a sudden calm coming over him. “I kind of lost count. I never really got to finish the deed.” Tom grinned again. He knew that was a lie. He was a murderer. He’d always be one. This kid didn’t have to know. He wasn’t a murderer and Tom would spare him that.

  Tom leaned back into the chair. “Do you smoke?” He asked, pulling out his own cigarette. Fuck this, the movie still hadn’t started. On a good day, Tommy wouldn’t have shared a smoke with anyone for anything. Well, except for a trade. This kid was a special case. He’d done something terrible, and Tom admired that. Not in the sickest sense, but pretty close.

felixmademedoit:

Before Castle Grove Eddie didn’t really go to any clinic. Not ones like Castle Grove he had gone to doctors many many doctors actually. Therapists as well, and so when Felix shot and nearly hurt someone it was then he was transferred to Castle Grove. The entire ordeal had shaken Eddie and Felix simply laughed about it. When Tommy began to talk once more Eddie looked at him when he was asked about the old place he shrugged “I d-d-didn’t r-r-really have a b-b-bad p-p-lace I m-m-moved a-a-a lot” he said and looked down at his feet than back at Tommy. Tommy gave off a vibe that he hadn’t seen in the other patients, he was calm to some degree at least. He wasn’t quite sure if this was a play for the guy or if he generally was this way all the time. 

Eddie nodded his head “t-t-they g-g-gave me m-m-medicine t-t-too.” He paused “it h-h-has b-b-been hel-helping m-m-me t-t-too.” He said nodding his head. The medicine he had been on had actually been helping. It had helped him sleep through the night and it kept his motions during the night under control so he didn’t lash out or fight himself in his sleep. 

Eddie shot his head over in Tommy’s direction at what Tommy had said. He looked to his feet before he said “I..” he paused “I h-h-have t-t-too.” he said his eyes moving to look at him. At the next question Eddie blinked. The subject was changed so quickly so he figured it was done for a reason. Eddie nodded his head “my m-m-mom.” He said.

  Tommy nodded at the boys words of moving around a lot. He understood that all too well. He wished he hadn’t, in fact. At the age of eleven Tommy had been transferred around from Foster home to Foster home. He’d lost count there had been so many. At age thirteen, however, he was finally admitted to an actual Institution. Ironically, it was in his own home-town, the Juvenile Clinic. “I moved around a lot, too.” He shrugged, not knowing if he should elaborate.

  A smile crossed Tommy’s lips at the mention of medicine. He leaned in closer to Eddie, mischief clear on his face. “I get the medication for free,” He smirked. “But don’t tell anybody. I’d get in trouble.” Tom’s voice was childish, musing. He laughed. “I hated the meds they gave me back in the place before this one.” Tommy shrugged. “I was a fucking zombie, y’know.” He took a breath. “I’m not going back to that.” The smile crossed his lips once more. 

  Tom remained silent for a moment after Eddie spoke of his mother. Tommy wished often as a kid for a mom. He wondered what his mom was like. When he asked his father, however, he learned very quickly that it only ever got him a beating. So he stopped. He’d never know his mother. “Is she nice?” Tom asked, forgetting again that he’s spoken aloud. A lot of things were slipping by him, through the cracks. “I’m sorry.” Tom shook off the shadows hanging over him, laughing. “It’s not my business.” 

felixmademedoit:

Eddie watched him nodding a bit. “T-t-the place I w-w-was in b-b-before w-w-was r-r-really d-d-different f-f-from this p-p-place.” He said remember most of what he had been through in the hospital back home. He had blocked out most of what he had gone through and it had been better that way. Though some part of him felt that Felix got worse as they were there. Here he seemed a little calmer, but he knew that at some point Felix would do something that was bad and Eddie would be the one that paid for it in the end.

Eddie shook his head “i-i-it’s f-f-fine” he said and swallowed lightly. “I g-g-get l-l-lost in m-m-my o-o-own.” He said nodding his head slightly before looking back to Tommy. “T-t-thought I t-t-think a-a-all of u-u-us do it.”

Eddie had more trouble keep Felix at bay here than at the other hospital. I guess this is what happens when one becomes friends with someone. Your alter personality gets jealous and that ends that. You start feeling angry, jealous, and annoyed. Eddie had each and everyone of these emotions. 

He looked to Tommy and shook his head “n-n-no.” He said and cleared his throat looking down at his feet. It wasn’t the reason, and though he seemed to find Tommy good company he didn’t think he could talk about the girl from his old school. The one he had nearly shot and killed, or Felix had nearly shot and killed in this case. “I h-h-have n-n-nightmares… v-v-violent ones.” He said. Though it was a cover up, it was still true. His nightmares however had been slightly less intense and less frequent since he came to Castle Grove.

  Tom thought about the Clinic, about Chicago. He hated it, in all honestly. Castle Grove was much more of a haven to him, as shit as it was. He wasn’t being beaten daily, didn’t have to fight for every little thing…He was safe. Something Tommy wasn’t at all used to. He wondered then, what other Clinics of Institutions were like. When Eddie mentioned his previous being far from the same as Castle Grove, Tom spoke up. “What was it like, man?” He tried to sound friendlier than usual. Keeping a conversation was hard when you weren’t trying to be a wise-ass. “At your old, uh, place?” Not the right word at all. Tommy didn’t want to say, ‘mental institution’ or ‘nut-house.’ Eddie seemed like a good kid, a sensitive one. Not crazy. Not yet.

 ”I don’t really have nightmares.” Tommy said simply. Eddie seemed a little uncomfortable when asked about his question, so Tommy tried something he’d never really done before—relating. “I have them during the day.” He admitted. “I don’t sleep, for the most part.” He clenched his jaw, trying to get more words to come through them. “I’m taking medication, willingly, for once.” Tom laughed. He remembered the old Clinic. How the medication they’d forced him to take had caused him to be extremely violent on occasion. Countless orderlies had quit because of him, of the fear. “I hurt a lot of people…” Tommy said aloud, not meaning to. He may have sounded childish then, almost sorry, but Tom wasn’t. He’d never admit it to Eddie, but he enjoyed pain. Misery. Sorry. He was bred for it especially. Eddie didn’t seem like the time, so Tom spared him the details. ”Do you have a family, Eddie?” Tom asked, eyes regaining their amused spark. Tom had a family once. Well, for just a few moments.

Eddie watched him as he talked. So far Tommy was faring to be a pretty normal person or as normal as one can be considering where they all were. He looked from Tommy back down to his feet as he heard him talk. He blinked and looked at Tommy once more. “H-H-How do y-y-you m-m-mean?” He said and brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck before he put into his lap and curled his knees up against his chest. Eddie knew exactly where he stood in Castle Grove he was at the bottom. People walked all over him and he knew exactly why. He couldn’t bring himself to be different, he knew they walked all over him because of how easily he was frightened or how easy he would do what people wanted him to do. He was very easily manipulated and it was not something good to have while being in this place.

He had tried to be more open. He tried to talk with people as often as he possibly could but the fact it was difficult not only was he fighting back Felix he was fighting back his stutter. It held him back because he thought people would make fun of him and most of them had. That idea in itself made him nervous.

Well at least his stutter passed with Tommy. He didn’t seem to mind it and that was a relief for Eddie it really was. The idea of another person making fun of him slowly left his mind and he was happy to know that he would be fine. For now. 

“I-i-it’s not j-j-just this” he said lightly digging his fingers lightly into the fabric of his pants as he sat their next to Tommy. He lifted his head up to see Tommy’s marks on his arms and than looked to Tommy once more as he talked. Eddie shook his head slightly and smiled before moving and lifting the left side of his pants. “I h-h-have my o-o-own” though technically weren’t self inflicted not intentionally anyway. He tended to fight himself a lot when keeping Felix at bay so he had a couple of cuts and bruises from himself.

  Tom shook his head, shrugging. “Thing are…” He paused, remembering how the Clinic back in Chicago had been. “Different—here.” Tommy’s words drifted. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t understand the crap that goes on here, y’know man?  I’m beginning to feel like I actually belong here.” He hadn’t meant to say so much. Tom’s eyes flickered to Eddie’s for a moment, wondering if he’d caught the honesty in his voice. This place was turning him, changing him somehow, and Tommy didn’t like it one little bit. He felt caged almost, only he didn’t feel like fighting much anymore. It was as though he’d accepted his fate, and for Tom, that wasn’t a good thing.

  “I get caught up sometimes in my own noggin’,” Tom tapped on his temple with his pointer finger flashing a grin. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He kept up his smile for a few seconds afterwards, letting it drop suddenly. Tommy wasn’t one to get caught up in his own head, not in front of people. He acted on everything without really taking a second thought.

  Tom watched the boy’s bruised and broken skin with a stoic face. Felix reminded Tommy a bit of himself when he was a kid, and maybe that’s why he’d been so easy to take to. Why Tommy hadn’t completely ruined the chance of their ever being a friendship in the first place. Tom wondered why the boy had done that to himself in the first place. What things were going on in his head? Were they like the things playing over and over in his? 
“Tell me they didn’t just put you in here because of that?” He asked, letting his head rest on the palm of his hand. He tilted his head, trying to read the boy, wondering what he was hiding.

Eddie knew of people, he didn’t know what disorders people had and he didn’t know the names of half of the patients that were there. He just knew that some were dangerous and others more just messed up in the head. Eddie wasn’t sure where he fell on that radar. He hoped he wasn’t dangerous but if he was he would be in here for along time, but if he wasn’t dangerous he was in here for nothing. Okay maybe not nothing, the fact that Eddie was here meant something was wrong with him and he oped for the fact he was just messed up in the head.

Eddie watched as Tommy put the cigarette to his lips before asking his questions. “N-n-not long” he said and rubbed at his legs a bit as he sat on the steps next to Tommy. He watched as he leaned back then instantly went back up. Had he hurt himself? Or was that just an uncomfortable position. Only Tommy knew. 

He traced his fingers against the tips of his shoes as he heard Tommy talk he turned and looked at him. No one had actually ever out and asked about his stutter. It wasn’t a touchy subject or anything but the fact that someone had so easily asked about it made it a little… different.

“It’s a s-s-stutter.” he said and put his arms up and rested them against his now bent knees. 

   ”Me too, man.” Tommy shook his head, thinking back to exactly when he’d gotten here. Had it already been a week? Longer? Shorter? “Shit…” He whispered under his breath, smoke unfurling from the corners of his mouth. “This place is already makin’ me feel a fuckin’ loon.” Tom laughed into his cigarette. His eyes hardened as he took another drag. He didn’t know if there was truth in that statement. Tommy was always keen on the reality he kept so close, yet so far. Here, he felt like the tables were turned. He didn’t know where he stood with anyone, almost. It confused him, angered him—put Tommy out of his element, and that was never where you wanted him to be.

  Tom followed the lines Eddie traced with his finger. His thoughts drifted, falling into a dark place. This kid was quiet, something Tommy was learning not to look past in the male patients. His best friend Gil’, the most soft-spoken of all the people here, proved that fact all too well. Gil’ had an alternate personality, and a fucking asshole one at that. Tommy suppressed the urge to curse further. It wouldn’t help anything. Wouldn’t change the fact of the matter.

  Tom nodded when Eddie mentioned his stutter. “Don’t sweat it, man.” Tommy told him when he noticed his obvious sensitivity to the subject. “People got far worse things than just a little stutter up in this joint.” He turned his eyes to the courtyard, watching the other patients for a moment long. Tom let his arms fall down into his lap, exposing the gruesomely raised scars and burns that covered the surface of his alabaster skin. “Not much room for judgement, here, eh?” He smiled, eyes meeting Eddie’s.

Eddie looked down at Tommy and at the spot that was next to where Tommy was. Eddie moved and slowly sat down near where Tommy currently sat. He moved looking to his feet as they laid on the step in front of him. He turned to look to him as he light his cigarette.

Eddie wasn’t one to smoke, it wasn’t that he disliked it he had no issue with it or anyone that did it. He just never tried, and he figured if he didn’t know what he was missing there was no point in starting right? He sort of thought the same with sex though technically it didn’t matter since Felix had had sex plenty of times before hand as someone put awhile back Felix was somewhat raping Eddie when he had sex without Eddie’s consent. But do you really think the guy is going to stop mid way so he can ask the “good” voice that he wanted to have sex. Yeah no that would just be weird…. not that Eddie wasn’t already weird to begin with.

Eddie heard him say his name and took note that it was Tommy not Thomas. He nodded his head “Eddie” he said amazed at how easily it came out for the first time in awhile.

When Tommy offered a smoke Eddie simply shook his head “n-n-no tha-thanks.” He said and turned his attention back to his feet.

  Tommy had seen this boy around somewhere, a few times actually. Didn’t know much about him—hell—he didn’t even know the kids name.  Tom noticed the hesitation in the boys body when he offered him a seat. If he took it, good on him; maybe they’d even be friends—But if he denied it, well, Tommy was in one of his moods. It really could go either way. The boy sat down, avoiding Tom’s glance. He seemed to have things on his mind. The look reminded Tommy of the one he’d seen on so many others, he wondered if he sometimes looked like that, too.

  “You seem like cool enough of a cat,” Tom commented, pulling the cigarette to his lips. “How long’ve you been here?” His back touched the hard surface of cement, stinging in the places Abby’s nails had planted themselves, raking them across his skin. He sat back up.

  Tom shrugged when the boy declined his cigarette. “What’s uh-” Tommy paused, looking at the boy in confusion. “up with your, uh-” His eyebrows crinkled as he motioned toward the boys lips. “Voice, there.” Shit, he thought. Like that didn’t take long enough to get out. Tom bit at his lip as he waited for the boys reply.