Forums » General Roleplay » The Laurel Mental Institute

The large white building seemed hideously out of place in the open fields and farmland of Laurel. Its simple box-like appearance didn't help, nor did the evenly spaced windows. Whoever had designed the building did not try very hard to make it seem homey, it still looked like a prison. The barbed wire fence surrounding the perimeter and barred windows only added to its prison-like grandeur. However ugly, the building was still impressive and utterly intimidating. The interior varied greatly from the stark bleak outward appearance. Half of the first floor was the reception area, once you got past the three thumbprint locked doors and two guard checkpoints. The floor was marble and seemed more like a hotel lobby, the lady sitting behind the desk had a large welcoming smile plastered onto her face, but there was unease behind her chocolate eyes. The other area of the first floor was storage and meeting rooms, there was also an area of receiving deliveries and a waiting room for parents or relatives if visiting. The second floor was less homey than the lobby, but the floors were carpeted and the walls painted a happy yellow color. The second floor was split into three areas, The Left Wing, The Right Wing, and The Common areas. The Left Wing had its less dangerous inhabits and Right Wing it's more unstable. The Left Wing was residential looking, with almost dorm-like rooms. The Right Wing was a different story, with padded cells and thumbprint keypad locks on all the doors. This ward was high security and the patients inside where either a large danger to themselves or others. The Left Wing also had four different Common rooms within the wing, they were like lounges with bean bag chairs and some flimsy paperback books. These rooms had shag carpets and large windows(still barred) it looked almost normal aside from the lack of certain items such as electronics, moveable light fixtures such as lamps, and wooden furniture. The books were stored in plastic storage containers and instead of pencils, they were offered crayons. On the second floor was the dining hall, which was locked except for meal times. This floor also had the group therapy rooms. The third floor was blocked off from patients, housing the staff.

This is the basic layout of Laurel, just a note that characters will be locked in their rooms starting at 10 P.M and the doors will be unlocked at 7 A.M.

You have the choice to decide for yourself which wing your character will reside in their time at Laurel depending on personality traits and the severity of their illness. However, NPC guards can and will move patients if they see something... Amiss in their recovery.

Most staff members, but not all, are NCPs feel free to have one walking around as your character begins their journey within Laurel.

Remember, Laurel is a high-security Institute, it will be incredibly hard for characters to escape, and impossible to get away without being detected. Cameras, guarded checkpoints, thumbprint scanners, barbed wire fences and locked gates prevent patients from escaping, so a character can't just waltz on out.

Also, keep in mind that characters will have a bag of personal belongings from home, these will be checked thoroughly, so sneaking things will be tricky, however not entirely impossible.

If you have a character that wants to jump in here, just shoot me a P.M.

We hope your stay in the Laurel Mental Institute jump starts your recovery, we wish you luck on your journey.



This was the last place on earth she wanted to be. She didn't need to be here. She wasn't some sort of lunatic. It was just a rough patch. This wasn't going to help. Too many people, too much contact. It was dizzying. While the big smiles were meant to welcome, she felt more like a three-year-old who was struggling to put a straw in her juice pouch. They were so sickeningly sweet. She could see, behind each warm face, there was apprehension. It was infuriating honestly. The lack of control scared her, terrified her. They had taken her bags when she first arrived, and she was forced to hand in her tennis shoes. It seemed like she would be walking around in socks for the rest of her days. That had been two hours ago, and now she was alone. The white walls of her "room" were not the best company. Despite the effort to make the room seem homey, it still held its cell-like aura. The single window was unopenable and barred. No dresser, only a small closet, the nightstand was a plastic storage crate turned upside down, and no mirror in sight. At least the large shag carpet was soft. The one thing that seemed out of place was that instead of a single bed, it was a bunk bed. Did that mean the potential of another person sharing this space? The thought made her uncomfortable. She didn't want a crazy person sleeping in the same room as her. Because she wasn't crazy!

Or, it didn't matter anyway. What even mattered anymore. She just didn't want to deal with another day. Eleven curled up in a ball on the shag carpet, wishing she could just die right then and there. The door to her room opened ever so slightly. She didn't move. What was the point anyway? The person on the other side of the door said something along the lines of here is your stuff, you can get food between these times, appointments and other junk that didn't register. She wasn't going to go to the appointments, she wouldn't remember the times. She wouldn't eat. Nothing would change. So she lay there, staring at the leg of the bed. Why was she even still breathing? It would be so much easier to just stop. So she held her breath. Held it until her lungs burned and her body forced her to inhale. How could her body be so adamant to live, with forced breath and hunger pains, but her mind be so ready to die?

After what seemed like hours, the girl sat up. She reached for her bag, might as well get settled. By this point, she knew she was in a "space for recovery" so things would be sugar coated and bubble wrapped, but this was just insane. All of the strings on her hoodies had been removed, as well as any laces on her footwear. Her bag of toiletries was downright missing, as well as her colored pencils. She growled in frustration. That was unfair, an invasion of privacy, theft! Of all the things, they had to take her toiletries All her planning, seen through so quickly. It had been fool proof, as it had worked through three different bathroom raids. It was the perfect hiding place, tested and proved efficient through life. She had brought with her one blade. She had guessed they would take her razor, plus it would be hard to ask for another once she took it apart for the blades. So she had relied on an old trick she had come up with years ago. She had her small container of portable floss, she simply opened it and slipped a small blade from a disposable pencil sharpener inside. It fit nicely, and didn't rattle, they would have had to first open her bag of toiletries, find her toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss, that she stored under her towel, open the zip lock bag, and go far enough to open the container of floss to find the blade. They instead straight up took the whole bag. What would she do now? She shoved the bag away. Life was going to be miserable, even more than it already had been. The only good thing so far, at least here the bullies couldn't reach her, they took her phone. It was depressing to realize, that once she got out of here, they would only get worse. She would never be able to win, so why even try?

Zed knew this was his exact place to be. This asylum is pretty much a playground for him. He was crazy; psychotic, and he pretty much loved it. Being trapped in this place for who knows how many years, he was always sentenced to the Right Wing, filled with several other patients, much like himself. He had been in this place ever since he was a kid, and he hadn't gotten better since. No, he had gotten even worse. His echoes were always heard through the hallways, his eerily soft humming wandering along the corridors, almost taunting the guards who kept close watch of him.
Today, he was sitting in his prison cell, sealed up in a straight jacket and wrapped with heavy chains, a muzzle trapped over his mouth for extra precautions. He lay down on the floor, humming a soft tune to himself while gazing at his fellow peers. Being one of the most crazed patients, he really loved to mess with people, if that's even what you would call the monsters that lived here. Nonetheless, he continued to lightly hum, soft lulluby's being heard from all across the asylum.

Tedya was sitting on the bed in her room, reading.
The room itself was somewhat small but not unreasonably so.
It had many comforts, some of which had been provided by the institute but many more had been chosen by Tedya herself.
The book she was reading provided a distraction from her boredom as her television was in need of repairs. As much as she loved her job she hated this place. At least she hated the second floor, as her room felt comfortable and secure. The second floor was so bare and depressing which made her feel bad for the patients.
But she knew that the Laurel Mental Institute did more good than harm. After all it was only bare to keep them from hurting themselves and others. And she and had come here in the first place to talk with the patients, to understand and help them.
That was her job and she didn't mind it, besides it pays well enough and she has vacation time that could be used if she so wished.
But right now she had nothing to do except silently read and wait until she did.

Wrong charcter!
Sorry!

(It's fine haha)

Elven sat curled in a ball, the blank wall stared at her. She stared at it. She wondered if the walls had feelings, did they get depressed? Did they ever feel lacking, because they certainly were. Or perhaps they felt fresh, new. They had so much potential. Of course, they themselves could never live up to that. In the end, it was just a wall. Did that mean she was crazy? Thinking and judging a wall as if it was human? By the time she was out of this place she would be crazier than when she walked in. She wasn't crazy. Nope, completely sane. It was just a diet, she wasn't hungry anyway, tons of people restrict and exercise was healthy. Just because she had scars didn't mean she needed help. It was just a way to cope. She could stop if she wanted.

But what if she was crazy? What would people think then? What if she was trapped here forever? With nothing but empty walls to stare at. What if Haven disowned her because she was in a loony bin? Haven must hate her, mom already did, no question there, but Haven? Everyone hated her, they told her so. Maybe not all of them in words, but most of them, and those who didn't, they were thinking it. She could tell, the way they stared right through her or avoided her in the hallway. She deserved to be hated. What could she do anyway? She was the reason mom lost her job and had to take up two more in order to look after her. She was the reason Haven had to quit the swim team and take up a job to help mom. She was the reason her father left mom. He knew even before her birth that she would turn out to be a horrible excuse of a human being. He got out, left so he wouldn't have to put up with her. She didn't deserve the meals her mom used to put on the table. She didn't deserve any kind of food, no she was too fat. Not worth it. Someone else could eat it, they should eat it, because she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair, it would make her fat. If she was fat then everyone would hate her more than they already did.

Eleven got up, a bit light headed from the sudden change. She opened the door and peeked out, no one in the hallway. The door clicked shut, and she was almost silent in her sock clad feet. Her long thin legs carried her out of the room. She began to jog the length of the hallway, from her door down to the last door. Back and fourth. Her limbs felt heavy, and she was slow, already out of breath. One more time. Her fingers brushed her door. Just back down again, once more. She reached the end of the corridor. One more time, burn a few more calories. Almost there, push a little harder, keep the weight off. She should be fitter than this, a little jog shouldn't drain her like this. She had to work harder. Another three laps. Her socked feet pattered down the carpeted hallway. Ten laps, make it twenty. She kept jogging, burn the calories so you can eat a little at dinner, make it seem like your on your way to recovery. The quicker she could get out of here, the sooner life could go back to the way it was, at least then she could get in touch with Haven again. If Haven would even talk to her. Maybe if she was thin enough Haven would have to invite her out for a hike or something. Maybe if she looked good enough Haven would be proud of her.

Another four laps done, keep it up. Fourteen laps, almost to twenty. The more calories gone the better. Just a few more. Push, keep moving. Don't stop. Her feet dragged, she was exhausted. Fifteen laps, almost there.

(It's all good ^^)

Once concluding his soft tunes, Zed stood up groggily, walking to the bars on his cell and piercing his eyes at several guards who were watching him. He began to cackle at them, shaking his head, before repeatedly kicking the door of his cage with a low growl. He stayed that way, before helplessly sliding down a wall in a rage of pity and tiredness for himself.
"Tick, tock." He whispered to himself, a low grin plastered across his face. He got some questioning looks from the guards, but he quickly silenced them by bringing his index finger to his neck and slicing against it, followed by a maniacal laugh. He earned some eye rolls from the guards, them muttering something about his condition and level of insanity. He simply shrugged it off, waiting until his lunch would arrive.

Willow sat quietly on the small bed in her room, the sheets scratchy against the exposed skin of her ankles as she stared, unseeing out her window.

It had been 8 months since she had been committed after her mother found her, half dead in a bath tub full of blood.

It had been 6 months since she had bothered to visit.

The Institute had recently moved her to the "Stable" wing but she was far from stable, she was simply very good at telling people what they wanted to hear; her therapist included.

The truth is she had never been stable, her entire life had been nothing but instability; her fathers work with the army meant they moved almost non-stop through out her entire childhood, never staying in one place longer than a few months. This constant moving meant she never had a chance to lay down roots, to make friends or even properly memorize the lay out of her current school before they would pack up and leave all over again.

Truth be told she always got the destinct idea that her parents never intended to have kids, she asked them for a baby sibling once and they nearly screamed at the very suggestion.

Growing up she watched shows about kids her age, kids going to school with friends they'd had since birth in a town they'd never been outside of, doing things like sneaking to parties, having sleep-overs and going on dates. Normal things.

Willow held onto that dream for a little while, it died out after her 10th birthday when her parents told her they where moving, yet again for the 3rd time that year and she finally realized that she was never going to have any of it. How could she if they never stayed put.

Shortly after her 16th birthday her father made an announcemnt, he had put in his 25 years and could finally retire with a full pension, no more moving around.

That was the last time Willow remembered feeling happy, feeling anything really.

They moved to a little postcard of a town and two weeks later she was getting ready for her first day at her last highschool.

What she quickly discovered was that the kids there had all been born in that town, the groups had been formed years ago and they had no intentions of letting anyone else in.

For weeks she held onto a foolish hope that someone would talk to her, that someone would reach out rather than bully or ignore.

Being desperate to fit in she paid close attention to everything the other kids did, she bought the same clothes, wore the same make-up and even used the same gadgets, anything to connect with them, to make them accept her.

But no amount of brand name clothes or fancy make-up could make them want her.

Cutting was her only escape, it was the only thing she could do to make herself feel.

Soon her whole life was like a theater production; every morning she spent hours putting on the carefully chosen costume and readying her mask for the next performance.

Her parents where concerned about her lack of friends so she made one up, claiming to have met a girl in her english class that seemed nice. Soon this fictional friend became her card to freedom, they never questioned anything when she involked this magical girls name, allowing her to leave the house whenever she felt the urge.

The last day she was home she caught her own reflection in a mirror at school and didn't recognize herself. Willow was gone, replaced by some smiling fraud who was secretly covered in scars both old and new.

Willow didn't entirely remember that day, she doesn't remember what it was that lead her to that bathtub or why she didn't lock the door that day. The only thing that was clear in her mind was the sound of her mother screaming when she found her and a half heard coversation about bringing her to the institute had just outside her hospital room.

Willow did remember her first day here however, she remembered the pittying look on her mothers face as they lead her past the guards stations and fingerprint scanners. She remembered the bitter scent of antiseptic cleaner, the sound of some patient screaming at the top of their lungs and the tight grip of the orderlies that practically dragged her into the tiny room she called home for the first several months of her stay.

She had grown used to the place now, she had covered the walls of her small room with drawings after convincing her therapist to allow her a few sticks of charcol and a several pads of paper.

Nobody knew she had managed to sneak a piece of broken glass into her pocket after one of the more unstable patients broke a mirror, nor did anyone know she had it hidden away in one of the hollow legs of her bed frame. Keeping it safe for after lights out when the skeleton crew took over and no one would check on her for hours at a time, allowing her to carve a few new lines in her skin unnoticed.

Tedya looked up from her book to check the time.
It was almost lunch time, which meant that she needed to do her job. Really she should have done it a little earlier but she had lost track of time. There was a new patient to be evaluated and though she didn't have enough time to do that now, it would be a good idea to get acquainted.
She marked the page by folding a corner and put the book down on the bed before she exited her room and went down to the second floor.

Her breath was heavy, her legs weak. She hadn't eaten a single thing in two days but had kept up her rigorous exercise schedule, and her body was protesting. Come on, just a little farther. Her fingers brushed the door to her room. She slumped against it, panting heavily. Eighteen laps, almost there. Keep going. She forced her legs to move and agonizingly lifted her feet. She wouldn't loose without work. She felt disgusting, 112 pounds, certainly not her heaviest, but she had weighed in at a slim 104 last year, she had grown three inches since then, but the almost ten pound gain needed to come off. Her thigh gap needed to be just a little wider, her collar bones just a little more prominent. This is what she needed to do to be skinny. Eleven reached the end of the hallway and touched the wall before jogging back. Nineteen laps. Just a little longer. Twenty. She could do thirty.

She slowed, her whole body felt weak. Her body screamed, stop! and I'm starving! but her mind urged her forward. Come on, get the flab off. 100 pounds, that's your goal. A nice attractive thigh gap, elegant collar bones, flat tummy, and no fat anywhere. Keep moving. She touched the end of the hallway, turned and began the jog back. Her footfalls were heavy, and she was practically dragging her feet. Come on, twenty-two laps, eight more. Keep it slim, don't gain another pound. The thinner the better, more friends, more attractive, she could fit into smaller sizes. She just had to keep moving, keep burning.

"I'm hungry, goddammit." Zed had said with a groan, laying down on the floor, his head aggressively hitting the ground roughly. He let out a low howl, before springing upwards when one of the guards gave him a look, instantly charging at the bars. He growled at them, though they seemed more annoyed than intimated by him, his endless mutters rambling on for far too long. He paced around his cell, his actions getting worse as he got hungrier. He even got to the part where he almost passed out, but kept himself up by slowly walking around his cage of an environment. It was almost as if they wanted him dead. Well, he couldn't blame them, really.

The walk there was busy. Staff members were overseeing patients and preparing for lunch.
Tedya was in a hurry also and as a result, was a little surly in the interactions with a couple staff members that tried to trap her with making pleasantries.
It's not that she hated talking to people, but she-like other people-needed silence when trying to get somewhere before a certain time.
She made her way towards the wing that held the new patient,
But...then she checked her watch.
It was already too late. Lunch would be starting any minute now. She cursed herself inwardly and started to turn back to where she came.

The hot scent of whatever mush they where serving for lunch wafted into Willow's open room, her face contorted against her will as the scent washed over.

"Disgusting" she thought, shifting her body away from the open door.

Foot steps and a light knock caught her attention a few moments later.

"Medication time" An orderly noted, a mid-sized box tucked under one arm and two small cups clutched in his hand.

"Another "care package" I assume" She inquired, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"Yes ma'am, looks like a lot of good stuff in this one. Your parents must miss you" The kind, southern orderly smiled, placing the opened box beside her on the bed.

Willow laughed then, it was involuntary and completely beyond her control, the idea of the people who birthed her actually caring about her was hilarious in it's inaccuracy.

"Are you okay ma'am?" He questioned softly, his eyes wide with concern and confusion at her reaction.

"I'm sorry, you're new here right? My so called caring parents haven't stepped foot in here in 6 months. In fact a week or so after I was committed here they moved. I still don't know where the new address is" She almost cackled, taking a second to retrieve the pills from the orderly before he dropped them or something.

"Oh.. Well that's just plum rude" He responded, his face contorting slightly as a wave of deep annoyance washed over him.

"That's my parents for ya, they didn't want me to begin with. I was an accident at best but daddy's catholic so they had no choice but to have me" She scoffed.

The orderly really stared then, disbelief clear in his features, stunned into momentary silence by her brutal honesty.

"I'm sorry" he said after several moments of gape-mouthed silence.

"Don't be. I've always known they didn't want me, it's not exactly new information for me. Ending up in here just finally cemented that fact but hey, they send packages so that's something at least" She scoffed, pulling the box closer and opening the flaps.

Willow could feel the anger rolling off the orderly as she began pulling things from the box, at that moment she knew he hated her parents and he'd never even met them before.

"Here, eat this. Don't eat whatever they're serving in the cafeteria if you can get away with it" She smiled, offering him several cookies she had just pulled from a tin in the care package, for all her faults her mother was a good baker.

"Thank you, I'll keep that in mind" He returned the smile and popped a cookie into his mouth.

The woman isn't much of a mother but she's an excellent cook" She noted, tossing a cookie in her mouth.

"Um I have to keep making rounds before I get into trouble, it was nice talking to you though" He smiled before turning to leave.

"I'm Willow by the way" She called as he reached the doorway.

"Willow? That's a nice name. I'm Boe" He replied before slipping away down the hall.

"I think I'm going to like that one" she thought, checking to make sure he was gone before slipping into her bathroom and dropping the pills into the toilet, she hadn't taken any medication in months. There was no way she was going to start now.

Zed got up to hear a small alarm going off from the ceiling, practically jumping with excitement.
"Lunch time!" He exclaimed, making a run for his padded door. The guards just scoffed, grabbing several chain restraints and locking him further up, to make sure he wouldn't try anything stupid. He grinned at the guards, shrugging at their eye rolls directed towards him.
"Aw, c'mon guys. I don't bite." He said with a wink as he was being forcefully shoved down several hallways and to the cafeteria, along with several other patients from his wing. One of the guards holding him scoffed.
"Yeah, you don't. You tear people apart and eat them." He had answered gruffly. Zed just eyed him, a mocking pout coming to his lips.
"Aw, that was one time!" He said, laughing. Without another word from the guards, he was thrown into the cafeteria, with the two still watching his every movements. He smiled to himself, humming as he grabbed a tray and was served the normal slop, which he considered to be thin slices of heaven. He grinned at the lunch lady, sarcastically thanking her, before finding a seat to sit down at, his usual grin plastered across his face.

Willow watched intently as the pills swirled and disappeared down the drain with a single flush, the orderly would never know what she had done. What she had been doing for months.

The medication muddled her brain, it numbed her which for a while admittedly felt good but it got old very quickly. One of the few things Willow knew she had going for her was her mind, she had always been creative, perhaps that's what made her such a good liar but regardless she wasn't about to lose her edge for the sake of feeling a little better.

It was shortly after she stopped taking them that she decided she wanted to draw again, they wouldn't allow her coloured pencils or paints but she after weeks of asking she managed to convince the therapist to allow her charcoal.

"Charcoal is harmless, really. There's no sharp edges, it breaks easily if any great amount of pressure is put against it. The worst that could happen is I get my sheets dirty from my fingers. Please? I need to be creative again" She insisted, using her best pleading voice and the puppy-dog eyes she had perfected at 3 years old.

The therapist was a middle aged man with curly hair and blue eyes, not unattractive but no model. Willow knew how to play him at this point, she was well aware of the naughty sketches he made in his notebook during their sessions, when he claimed to be taking notes. She was also well aware of the pull she had on men, it was a power she rarely used but when it came to something he wanted she wasn't afraid to use the naturally narrow waist and perky breasts the good lord blessed her with.

All it took was a little pout to her lips, she "accidentally" forgot to put a bra on that session and wore her thinnest sweater, more than slightly aware that it was practically transparent in the right light and paired it with a pair of tight black leggings she had only worn once since she arrived in the institute, feeling his eyes follow her every move as the tight material highlighted and hugged against her tight little butt.

By the time she asked the question he was already well under her spell, leaning forward just enough to allow him a good, solid peek down the front of her shirt was just a little extra incentive for the good doctor to give her what she wanted, to keep him distracted until he had already agreed to her request.

Now, her small room was covered in sketches. Most too dark to make out anything distinctive but a few that she had really taken her time with, sketches of hands, of long legs marred with blurred lines and a few sets of carefully drawn eyes marked her walls.

Willow settled back down on her bed and began pawing through the contents of the box Bo had dropped off earlier, the so called "care package" her parents sent instead of actually showing up or even calling to check in.

In the box she found a teddy bear her father bought her when she was 5, a soft grey sweater with thumb holes in the sleeves, several more large pads of paper, a few sticks of charcoal, a tin of home made cookies and a carefully folded note that read;

Hope you're feeling better sweetie, dad and I miss you dearly.

Love, mom and dad.

"What a joke" she scoffed, tossing the box on the floor.

"I don't think they've ever loved me"

Tedya made her way to the dining room.
She liked to stop by and talk to some of the free staff members.
Their conversations were mostly gossip but what was wrong with that?
Tedya went on talking with a nurse about some ward clerk who was getting a divorce until the nurse left her to talk to another person about the poor man.
The room was crammed with patients either standing in line for their food or already sitting and eating.
She knew that some of the more unstable characters were here but there were gaurds and orderlies about, as long as everyone was careful there shouldn't be a problem.

(Oh god, I'm so sorry I'm late! ;; I didn't realise the forum had been made already ^^")

Brooklyn laughed at the guards attempt to shove her out of her padded cell.
She raised her eyebrows as one managed to move her slightly.
She sighed and decided to cooperate for once and stepped out of the cell.
She rolled her eyes as one of the guards reached for something in their pocket.

"Don't. Even. Bother." She said.
"If I knew you were really gonna use that, I'd have head butted you already and made a run for it."
She let a wide grin creep across her face, showing off her sharp canine teeth.

She growled as she was shoved in the direction of the cafeteria.

"Jeez! I'm going, I'm going... It's not like I'll be able to somehow teleport outta here...!" She exclaimed, keeping her grin so they didn't know if she was serious or not.

She laughed at their expressions.
"I'm joking, I'm joking!!" She scoffed.
"Now, I'm hungry." She nodded as she started bouncing towards the cafeteria.

She squealed as one of the guards shoved her into the room full of patients... Yeah, full, whatever.

She rolled her eyes and waved intently at them before walking up and grabbing a tray of food.
She grinned at the server and bowed, thanking her for the.... 'Food'...

She then skipped over to an empty seat next to Z.

(Lol it's alright. ^^)

Zed raised an eyebrow as he noticed a rather joyous girl take a seat next to him. Intrigued, he turned his head to her, starting up some small talk.
"Hey, dollface. What's up with the happy act? S' not like you really like this hell of a place, right?" He'd ask her with a smile, eating a spoonful of his pretended food. He thought to himself, gazing across at his other peers, before looking back at the girl sat next to him. Except for himself and her, Zed noticed that nobody else in this wretched place had ever displayed a smile on their face, or from what he had seen in the past years. He obviously knew that nobody would even think of smiling at a place like this, but if the patients here were really all that insane, wouldn't they have grins plastered across their faces as well?
Zed shrugged the thought off, looking back at the girl sat next to him, curiousity looming over him.

Brooke rolled her eyes at him.
"Not much I can say, mister. I dunno why I'm happy. 'Could just be the craziness, the drugs, the demons... I don't know." She said with complete simplicity.
She followed his gaze, also noticing that no one else had such a hint of 'happiness' in their eyes let alone displaying it on their mouths.

She rolled her eyes again and took a bite out of the food.
She screwed up her face and coughed, her long, knee-length pigtails flying behind her.

"God, that tastes a lot worse than I remember from yesterday."

She quickly spat the food back onto her plate and shivered, her arms wriggling the most, almost like she was flailing.

Willow knew her therapist would hear about it if she didn't eat again, it was one of the things he wanted her to work on "Heathy body, breathy mind" he'd say.

Clearly the man had never eaten in this place.

Sliding off the bed Willow threw the teddy bear beneath it before shuffling towards the cafeteria.

A girl whipped past her at a break-neck speed, nearly colliding with her as she moved blindly through the hall.

She must be new here she thought, making her way into the crowded cafeteria.

The room stank, the smell of whatever mush they where serving was putrid to say the least, her empty stomach lurched in revolt.

Reaching th counter Willow slid the empty tray towards the worker who dropped several large spoonfuls of some unknown food onto a plate and dropped it down in front of her.

"Thanks" she managed to whisper through gritted teeth before finding an empty table to plop down.

The "food" they served her was completely unidentifiable, it almost appeared as if they had taken what was probably perfectly acceptable food and put it through a blender. Heaven forbid the patients here have the chew something harder than a marshmallow.

Zed noticed her choking and almost chuckled, tossing another spoonful in his mouth.
"Tastes pretty good to me." He said, his voice muffled and full of food. He looked at her pigtails, grabbing one of them with his hand and twirling it around his finger. Swallowing his food, he began to speak once again.
"So are you a cheerleader or some crap? Need I remind you that Halloween already passed, sweetheart?" He teased, inspecting her hair curiously.
"It's so long. You're like Rapunzel or something." He'd comment, tilting his head as he continued to stare at it.