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@confinedrage
potestaskaty.
“have you thought about other kinds of therapy? i’ve heard music therapy is supposed to be very cognitively stimulating.”
‘ yes, but .. does it help you see anything, though ? i like witch house. ’
satansmack.
of course fiona would get stuck in a group therapy session where the doctor was way too giddy and happy to be working in this place. everything she was saying went in one ear and out the other. fiona still had withdrawal symptoms so she was irritated, TIRED, eyes red and hair in knots. it wasn’t the day for this. now this doctor had them take a break to do some art therapy. “ —– she can’t be fuckin’ serious. i ain’t gonna be drawin’ no god damn sunshine shit how is that gonna help me. LISTEN ; you stick one of these pencils in my eye i’ll make it worth your while. ” she spoke to the person near her, ready to just up and leave the room.
he had been there before. therapy, art therapy. please draw something, anything. all due to what was then known as the sadie incident and treated as some kind of taboo inside his own house, an eight year old sent to a professional for simply killing his own curiosity to see whether or not his family’s dog had small puppies inside just like his mother said she would. and there he was again, facing the same situation with only an age difference. for a brief moment, he thought : to be there, caught and stuck before he wanted it himself - perhaps his intelligence wasn’t much higher than an eight year old’s. and sure, of course he had to be talked towards to. eyes met her features, calmly listening as, in his own mind, this could’ve been all much better had he been with his mask. he knows it would. yet the last part was the only thing that remained inside his mind - jesus fuck, how bad he missed seeing all that blood splattered around! ‘ .. okay. ’ it was the only answer, fingertips starting to reach out for the pencil.
“I’m seeing a lot of aggression lately within these walls.” Though, really, it wasn’t entirely surprising. Most patients were aggressive to some degree. Some, more than others. “I think we could do with more communication, and less medication.”
‘ well ... it is a mental institution with some aggressive individuals here and there, doctor. ’ he’d say, polite and yet almost as if it was obvious. fingertips attempting to move themselves for a more comfortable position - being incapacitated by a straight jacket, meaning he was one of those individuals. ‘ you see .. sometimes, violence does make the world go round. ’
She thumbs silently through an open book, eyes wandering across the page, a gentle unaware hum leaving her lips.
he’d silently observe, trying not to miss each and every single action she’d perform. she was pretty - beautiful enough for him to imagine for how much she’d be bid for, whether or not she’d be worth the hunt for; how well she’d star in one of his movies. if her insides would look good splashed against the wall. ‘ peaceful, isn’t it ? ’ a question was made, referring to the open book; a false friendliness over his every being.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just going lie here and stew in the fact that I haven’t been screwed since the end of the fuckin’ Vietnam War.”
‘ wow, such long four decades, huh? ’
The extras and the excess.
I can come in anytime I want. And I can get you, anytime I want. But I’m not going to. Not until it’s time. When you wish you’re dead… that’s when I’ll come inside. ― Hush (2016), dir. Mike Flanagan
By: AB
Cameron Monaghan edit → 1/∞
“Can I just be alone right now, for once in my fucking life? Thank you.”
‘ it’s an asylum. ’ he stated, almost if to his own self - the fact he was caught before he ever wanted to be. ‘ you will have all the alone time you need once you’re back in that cell. ’ they all would.