Asylums were not a place to seek comfort or warmth, and most certainly not a place where love was the slogan behind everyone's smiley faces. White walls, long and narrow corridors, and that one janitor always bustling around mopping the floor. No, asylums were a prison for people with a prisoned mind, the ones that couldn't escape from their own bubble of happiness and lunacy. If you were sane, then you'd definitely wind up insane working there. It was the Alcatraz for the innocent; the dangerous innocent. Once in, never out. They might as well have put a sign atop the gates that read 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.'
However, Gravewall was a bit different in that regard. It had taken a different approach from its bygone sisters of the past, all of them chopped out one after the other by the constantly updating laws. No, Gravewall adapted to the evolution of psychotherapy, and thanks to substantial funding from the government of that time, everything came to life. Patients with severe disorders were able to somehow tread through a bit of their life peacefully, receiving sittings with the institute's psychiatrist and plenty of colorful pills.
Jered navigated through the maze-like corridors with honed familiarity. Eventually, a nurse noticed him and smiled sweetly, "Oh, if it isn't Jered. It's been a while since you last visited." her white uniform was conservative, showing that the general attire for a mental hospital hadn't seen particularly modernization since the 60s.
"Nancy, beautiful as always I see," he returned with a chuckle.
She giggled behind a hand, the other one busy holding a basket with neatly folded clothes within, "I've hadn't had the opportunity to pretty myself up for a long time. I always feel like I'm slowly losing my femininity. It's nice to hear a compliment or two once in a while."
"Jerry's been leering your behind more than he wants to admit. If you bat those long eyelashes of yours at him, his heart will leap out of his chest and right into your hand."
Nancy giggled again, twirling a chock of her greying brown hair around her finger, "I know, he's been making advances on everyone. So, are you here for Arya?"
"Yeah, how has she been?" he asked as he resumed his trek towards his destination, Nancy at his side, "I'm the only one that comes to visit her. It's so saddening that she had to be dumped here and then cast away by her relatives."
"I know... her parents called only once after her admittance, and it was to make sure she didn't cause too much of a fuss. After that, they vanished. We never managed to contact them again," she caught her bottom lip between her teeth in frustration, "A lot of patients here don't even understand the situation they are in, but those that do become bitter and angry at everything and everyone, isolating themselves even more."
A chorus of girlish screams suddenly wafted from a room nearby, "Oh not again!" Nancy hastened her pace—almost sprinting into a jog—to the location the noise was coming from. Considering that they were in the female-only district, no presence of males, besides the staff, was in that specific building. Jered followed her quietly, his hands tucked inside his pockets.
The constant buzz of the television's news anchor droning on and on was overlapped with shouts and the hodgepodge of different voices talking to each other. Needless to say, it was total chaos.
"I said give it back you whore!"
"Nooo, it's mine!"
"Whore! whore! whore! Giveeee it baaaack!"
The ruckus they came to was almost escalating into a fight. Nancy had an admonishing frown etched on her face as she surveyed everyone involved, but then said frown flickered to mild acceptance. "Donna, Annabelle! Stop right now!" the vehemence in her voice didn't go ignored as silence ensued. But it was short-lived as a cross-eyed girl with short hair voiced out her indignance.
"The whore stole my doll, Nancy! She... she doesn't want to give it back!"
"This doll is mine, Donna! I'm not giving it to you," Annabelle cowered back with her lips puckered out, holding for dear life onto an old worn-out barbie doll that had its creepiness magnified by the lack of some limbs, "Stop behaving like this, you're scaring me."
Nancy forked her hips and stared them down so hard it begot another bout of silence, "Sit down. Both of you."
Although Donna seemed to have more bullets to fire, she meekly acquiesced along with Annabelle.
"Is this the way to behave in front of a guest? Aren't you girls embarrassed?"
They stole a quick peek at Jered before apologizing in unison, "I'm soooorry Nancy."
"And..." the nurse prompted them to go on.
"And..." Donna looked up and begged, "Nancy... that doll is mine, please."
"W-What... no no no... Nancy! Nancy! It's mine! It was a birthday present from my mom before she died!" Annabelle almost yelled in a dramatic fashion. "You don't really believe her, do you? We all know she likes lying!"
"And we all know you're an attention-seeking whore!" the cross-eyed girl shot back, "You're so annoying! I hope you choke on Mason's sperm and die!"
"Wh-What? Nancy, did you hear her? Oh my god... I can't believe you just said that!"
"Oh please, drop your act. You're not daddy's little princess anymore! Grow up!"
Annabelle's face shifted constantly, wholly thunderstruck by her friend's hurtful words. Her eyes glassed over with tears as she sniffed, and with indignant fury, she hurled the doll towards her friend before stomping her way back to her room with a last childish insult, "Bitch!"
Nancy held her forehead in exasperation, "I'm sorry you had to witness this, Jered."
it was not unusual for quarrels to pop up every now and then, and while most of the time they were silly in nature—easily containable if she raised her voice loud enough—other times they were not. It was stressing to know that it'd only take a small distraction, a slip-up, and someone could be injured, or worse, killed by one of the girls due to a mood swing, plain pettiness, or jealousy.
"It's okay," he waved her off, "I'm sure you're used to seeing this every day."
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"Not used enough actually. I need a break and a pay rise."
Jered chuckled good-naturedly, "Why don't you just quit then?"
"Quit?" her face scrunched up as if the taste of that word was particularly bitter, "And where'd I go? I've been here for years... I'm... I'm not sure I could handle another job with a sane mind, without worrying about medication time, controls, and treating everyone else as if they're not mentally screwed and ready to stab one another at a moment's notice. No, no... I don't think I could put my heart into that. My place is here, with the girls."
"I see," he nodded thoughtfully before breaking into a cheerful smile, "Well, I'm going to see Arya if you don't mind."
Nancy replied with a smile of her own, "Sure thing. As for you Donna, come with me. We're gonna have a little chat about this."
A displeased groan was the last thing he heard as he headed off to his friend's room.
Arya liked to think she was the sanest one amidst such a herd of broken dolls. Of course, to wind up there you had to at least have some gears out of place, but so far she was confident to be the most functioning one in that pothole. It was a nice and cozy place all considered, sure. Not her idea of paradise, but it was close enough.
The hubbub from the common room was grating on her nerves, especially when she just wanted to enjoy her music in peace. Pushing the cushion of her earbuds deeper in her ear cavity, she turned up the volume a little. With a satisfied sigh, she leaned on the stark white wall behind her and started counting the raindrops racing down her window. Today they had an outing to a nearby shop scheduled; it was supposedly a rare event so everyone was understandably giddy. Unfortunately, the weather was not cooperative, so they had to postpone it.
She preferred it this way, to be honest. Like hell she'd go around the town with a rowdy bunch like that, only to fake surprised gasps at the little things she missed out on her entire life and then be expected to feel grateful at these assholes for the opportunity given. Nuh-uh. She'd take music and books in the comfort of her bed any other day over that.
A soft knock on her door disturbed her inner dialogue. If it were anyone of the staff, they'd have already barged in after the first knock, "Come in," she said, unplugging her earphones.
The door creaked open and a handsome teen walked in with a smile, "Sup!" his posture was straight like a javelin, and he sauntered around the room like he owned the place.
Arya thinned her lips into a line, "Jered..." she struggled with herself on whether to throw something at him, or spring up on her feet and hug the life out of that opportunistic bastard, "I thought you were in prison for sexually harassing little girls or stealing lunch from that one blind kid at your school."
"I'll give you a call when I end up stooping at such a low level. Maybe they'll put me in here with you," Jered's smile grew in size as she huffed out her annoyance with a roll of her eyes. It was definitely an enjoyable sight that of her delicate face—strongly accented by her Philippine heritage—twitch ever so slightly in displeasure, "So, how have you been?"
"Meh... okay, I guess? It's not like you can get any better here. They just want to make sure we don't get any worse," she draped a bare leg over the other, and let her stylishly pedicured foot dangle in the air as she studied him, "Are you here for more pills? You have to wait for a couple of hours still, I'm afraid."
Jered's mouth twisted into something that looked like a pout and a grin, "Well, that was my initial plan."
"But?"
"But... things happened."
"Explain," she wrinkled her nose at him.
"I've had the luck of making the acquaintance of a lovely old lady that talked me out of it, that's all."
"Wow..." Arya leaked a chuckle in disbelief, "Just... wow..."
Jered sat down on a chair next to her bed and shrugged, "She was a persuasive orator."
"I'm gobsmacked, this is... wow... wait, gimme a moment to calm down," she crossed her legs in a meditative pose, and heaved in a deep and theatrical breath.
Yet another amusing reaction. Man, he loved messing with her, "It's okay though. I had committed myself not to take that shit again... it really messed up with my head for a while," he chortled, "And I have a long track of things I gave up on after setting my mind into doing something that was not self-harming in some way. I'm no good with commitments."
Arya let some of her long black hair slump over her left eye, and regarded him with a stare so intense that it would have leveled any weak-hearted man, "I know, that's literally your catchphrase."
"Any respectable man ought to have one," he replied promptly, not at all bothered by her 'I call bullshit' look, "What? It's true."
"Pleeeaase, as if you're any more respectable than the dirt on my shoes," she fired back with a tinge of amusement, "But tell me, how was this old lady like?" her black eyes glowed in interest.
Jered adopted a 'lost in a far-away memory' expression as he sagged himself further back in the chair, humming, "Well... you know those old women that go to the church every Sunday morning?" at her nod he continued, "Now, add a touch of a nosey neighbor here, the scowl of an overprotective mother there, and the scent of a pedophile in menopause as the icing and boom! You've got her."
"Haha, I kinda want to meet her."
"You probably already know her," Jered grinned, "She does seem to care a lot about her little dolls."