❦ OPEN POST ❦

[lestiwither]

ＬＥＳＬＩＥ ＷＩＴＨＥＲＳ
ᴀʀᴇ yᴏᴜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴩʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇ?

Comments

for [oldhound]

[lestiwither]

He's not sure how long he's been running. Time seems almost meaningless. Hard to keep track of. But he knows he needs to be somewhere safe.

So he checks himself into the nearest hospital -- a Ravenscar -- hands clamped over his ears as the - the thing inside his head shrieks in protest.

Apparently, saying you have a ghost in your head will get you let in quickly enough.

Once he's clean and in fresh clothes, they give him a room. And a roommate.

Leslie shuffles awkwardly in stockinged feet, tugging at his fingers while he glances at his roommate out of the corner of his eye, shoulders hunched around his ears.

"Not home. Not home..."

[oldhound]

Checking himself in here had been the right choice. He keeps telling himself that. Has to. Has to make it bloody well mean something, doesn't he? They keep telling him that it's all in his head. No demons. No ghosts. Nothing of the sort. Nothing that goes bump in the night.

If only he could believe that. If only they could make him believe it.

Nothing works, though. Had a row with the doctor and burnt his face with his ciggy. Did bugger all. Got him shock therapy. Knocked him right out of his own head for a while. On top of the medicine dosages, he's in a right old state.

Didn't figure they'd shack him up with another person, though. Figured they'd think he was too violent. Maybe they just don't care. His eyebrows raise up towards his hair when the bloke comes in and starts shuffling as he does.

"This going to be the new normal in here then, mate?"

[lestiwither]

"Nothing is... normal," he says slowly. Still shifting from foot to foot. Always moving. Like he's afraid to stop.

He doesn't know what will happen here. But at least there will be no more experiments. No Doctor Jimenez to plug him into things. Make him watch all the awful memories of the other patients. The other experiments. No more fighting over who he belongs to. Who he's more important to.

Maybe here can be safe.

"Leslie is... here now. Yes. Yes, yes." Though whether it's a non sequitur or an answer to John's question, even he's not sure.

[oldhound]

"Oh, right you are about that," he says, shifting up only to prop himself up on the wall. He lets his legs dangle off the shitty mattress and huffs. This bloke is perfect for this place, isn't he? Right mess and all.

"Leslie? That your name?" he tries. Not sure what he's bothering for. Not liable to get a decent conversation out of him from first impressions and all.

"Right then. This should be bloody brilliant. Ta for the conversation. Real enlightening."