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Post by LILLIAN AIMEE MOORE on May 3, 2010 20:53:57 GMT
* / these children learn from cigarette burns, fast cars, fast women & cheap drinks the sun had been setting for what seemed like endless amounts of time, casting it's burnt orange glow on the walls and causing shadows of everything in its path. looking out the window, the grounds of stanfield boarding school were illuminated, and in the distance lillian could see the top of the abandoned warehouse, the rest blocked by the arts performing block that stood in front. lily's gaze rested on the arts block, and wished vainly that she could be in one of the music rooms right now, writing some music and singing along to it. if she wasn't out partying or hanging out with her beloved friends, lillian would be found in the arts block. she loved that block, and the more time she spent there the more realistic her dream seemed. her dream was pretty much a simple one: she wished to have a band of her own, a band which would eventually become famous and well known around the world. however, lillian's childhood in care and her stay at stanfield had squashed her dream into nothing more than fantasy; something she'd never achieve. yet despite the tiny probability of ever succeeding with her goal, she'd continued on practicing singing and writing music, constantly improving the pieces she'd already wrote. lillian was determined to be the best, so she tried to forget about everything else except for focusing on escaping from stanfield. but if she didn't take her medication, then she wouldn't be allowed to leave. yet lily constantly refused to take her meds, and boy did it show. and ironically that was what today's meeting with the counsellor had been about. lillian tended to bunk her therapy sessions and hide either in the arts block or her dormitory. unfortunately for her these weren't very original hiding places, so she was often found and dragged to her meeting within ten minutes of being absent. she was yet to learn to find a different hiding place. after all, it had to be somewhere where she could play music or drink. the three hours she'd spent in the therapy room had given her plenty of time to think, thus only coming up with one new hiding place. she almost chuckled out loud at her lack of muse, but thought better of it. any noise erupting from her mouth would result in one thousand and one questions from her counsellor, and god forbid should that man ever shut the fuck up. thankfully for him she was in a good phase of her bipolar, so she wasn't feeling violent and aggressive to anyone who spoke more than three words to her. this therapy session had been one of the most draining she'd ever experienced. the main problem had been her constant skipping of sessions and her refusal to take any form of medication, whether it was her prescribed meds or simply pain relief for a stomach ache. the questions that had been aimed at her were pointless and a complete waste of time. lillian hadn't hesitated before telling her counsellor that, and she'd only been asked another twenty questions in various forms about "why she felt that way". there was only so much she could take before cracking, and the counsellors knew this very well. that was how they managed to get so many students talking about their problems: asking thousands of questions, or as many as they needed before getting their answers. she had been slumped in the same wooden chair for three hours (another way of getting students to talk) and her back ached like hell. her ankles were crossed, pulling her black skinnies tight against the lower part of her legs. as usual she wore her normal attire: a band tee, and a warm, comfortable hoody. her hands were tucked deep into her hoodie pockets, clutching onto her cell phone that kept vibrating every now and again. unfortunately she couldn't answer her texts as the counsellor would take her phone. last time she text during a session he'd threatened to confiscate her phone for a week. she'd scoffed at the time but was well aware he wasn't bluffing. counsellors were bastards. lillian had spent the last thirty minutes sitting in silence, ignoring the counsellors questions and staring past his head out the window. his questions had become repetitive, and lily had chosen to block him out and wait for her dismissal. thankfully, salvation came early with the noise of a fight breaking out in the corridor outside the therapy room. the counsellor had rushed out, only to pop his head back in the door and say "stay put, i'll be back as soon as i can," before scampering away. she sighed, the first sound she'd made in hours, and stretched her legs. they clicked and she winced slightly at the sound. the counsellor must have known she wouldn't stay put, after all what teenager listened to rules in this hell hole? stretching her arms she stood up, reaching to grab her ipod off the desk. it had been confiscated from her the minute she'd been forced through the door. ---------------------------------------------------------------- * / CREDIT moi. * / STATUS finished * / TAG open * / WORDS 849 * / COMMENTS just rambles XD * / LYRICS 3OH!3
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Post by LUCAS EZEKIEL GUNTHER on May 6, 2010 22:36:02 GMT
and nothing's going to change that hopeless feeling[ I GET WHEN YOU SAY YOU'LL UNDERSTAND I KNOW YOU CAN'T ]- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The world was closing, and finally turning black. "We're coming for you, coming. Coming, Luca-baby." His inner demons fought for their rightful win. There was no other possible thing that they could've wanted more than to see him fall. That's exactly what he was doing, too. Lucas was experiencing his own apocalypse and it was going to go out with a beautiful bang; or at least, that's what they told him. These little demons told him that his mind was going to cave in sooner or later. Why was that fun for them? Why was he the one that they showed these images? Why now? There was so many plaguing questions that Lucas could not seem to rid of. His brain hurt to think and the pressure kept gradually applying in his skull. The pills hardly kept him feeling good anymore-- his tolerance for the drugs was increasing. Right now he just needed a good Tylenol and sleep...
But he had already taken a Tylenol. And was it working? No.
Lucas could feel his veins pulsating beneath the thin layer of skin that draped around his bones. He exhaled, and stood from the chair he had recently been reclining in. The therapist hurried off to get him something to relax him, but nothing seemed to be working. He exhaled again. The air seemed to be growing thin, and the room was closing in on him. "I need... to leave," he murmured, balling his fists. His fingernails hadn't been cut in a few weeks, so they had grown sharp. Needless to say it hurt like hell when he dug them into his skin as he paced back and forth. Lucas whined a bit, feeling utterly helpless. The edges of his visions begun to blur and envelope him with darkness; turning his sight on and off for ten seconds before he grew tired of it. The next attack took his vision for an ongoing time, and he had bumped into the door fairly hard causing him to gasp. Lucas placed his hands on the wall and awaited the return of his vision. Oh how grateful he would be if it would just return long enough for him to gather his things and escape the demons of his unreality. The boy begun to hyperventilate as he sought his messenger bag and his notebook. Finally locating the things, Lucas spun blindly for a few seconds, a small hole of color coming back.
Lucas gasped again, and his breathing slowed as his eyesight slowly begun to return. Once it finally did, a uncanny euphoria veiled him and he escaped the tight room as quickly as he could. Claustrophobia had never been a problem with him until today. He just needed a place all to himself for a while. Lucas bit his lip as he shut the door (it creaked slightly, and it caused him to jump a bit), spinning around to meet the gaze of his doctor. "Where are you going, Lucas?" he asked, reaching a hand out to him. Lucas shut his eyes, and reopened them drunkenly. The vision of the male before him started to sharpen so much that it begun to make Lucas' headache worsen into a migraine. He exhaled deeply once more, before pushing the man's hand away. "No." the brunette protested, walking away from him. "All I need... is you to leave me be."
[/color] Lucas glared at him and turned away, hurriedly walking down the corridor, scanning the knobs as he walked by. The therapist followed, demanding him to return to the room so he could take the medication that he had just ordered to be brought in. But Lucas declined, still continuing to search for that one faulty handle that could not be unlocked from the outside. "Lucas, come here. You need to take this or your delusions will get worse.""I'm not having delusions, dimwit. This is really happening."Lucas turned the corner, and surveyed wildly for the one handle that didn't seem to be there. He kept walking, and looking to his left, finally locating that one door that had been stupidly placed. Though convenient for him. Another feeling of unexplained happiness broke out, and he opened the door right as his therapist turned the corner. "Lucas-" he had begun, but it was too late. The sickly young man had secluded himself inside of the other room, and a faint 'click' could be heard from the outside. Damn. Though from the inside... there Lucas Gunther sat, relieved, on the floor with his back pressed against the large door. This was all he needed: some silence. Little did he know, there was another presence with him. And that other presence happened to be Miss Lillian Moore. [/size] [/justify] notes: weeee ! outfit. the sketches around it are things he's drawn lately. words: 788. not my best post ever.. ); credit: israel, the man @ caution. please don't remove.
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Post by LILLIAN AIMEE MOORE on May 12, 2010 19:18:23 GMT
* / these children learn from cigarette burns, fast cars, fast women & cheap drinks lillian had spent only half a year at stanfield, but she'd picked up most of the tricks in the book. having grown up in care she'd developed a hard exterior from a young age; in fact, she'd had no choice in the matter. to make sure she didn't suffer from the bullies, insults and physical violence, she'd turned into a bad mouthed child who took no shit from no one. so during her erratic childhood in care, most people learned not to mess with her; there were a few cases where cocky guys thought they'd win against a 5 foot young teenager. but alas, they stumbled away with bruises and stinging gential. so her first week at stanfield was easier than it was for others. most new students ended up getting the shit kicked out of them, or fucked senseless by a sex addict. yet lillian managed to avoid getting beaten up, and instead beat a few up. once she'd established herself as a musician, she faded from everyones eyes. however, at parties or "social gatherings" most people would know her name, or would have at least seen her before in the boarding school. she'd tended to put herself across as a sweet girl, but if needed too she was capable of turning into a bitch. and of course, her bipolar was a major part in her mood change. the therapists desk was covered in paper, pens and bits of scrap notebooks. as she plucked her ipod off the desk her eyes scanned the notebook that the previous therapist had been writing on. her name was there, written in bold, at the top of the page. the usual crap was there on the page, and lillian picked the repetitive words that were always there. several times she'd seen the notes that various therapists had wrote, and always they wrote the same stuff. the first meeting was exactly like the hundreds of others she'd sat through. she'd refused to say anything from the very first therapy session, and it showed. every single session grew more and more repetitive, and the therapists constantly grew more frustrated. her bipolar worked against her occasionally, and once or twice she'd almost given something away but managed to shut up just in time. not one therapist had ever managed to persuade lillian to give valuable information about her life away. she rolled her eyes, wishing they'd just give up already. they would never be able to crack her mind, and it was pointless trying. the seventeen year old stood up, smiling happily at the ipod that was clasped in her hand. she'd gone far too long without this beauty, and she unwrapped the earbuds which were tangled around the small electronic object. popping one in her ear, she let the other dangle and switched her ipod on to full volume. one of her favourite rock bands suddenly blasted through the tiny buds, and a contented smile filled her face. she hummed along, turning around to leave the therapists room. after today they wouldn't call her back for another week. in fact, they certainly wouldn't if she trashed the office. she stopped midwalk, turning around with a raised eyebrow. that was a very good idea. however, before she could even consider breaking a few chairs and scattering the man's oh so valid papers all over the floor, the door opened behind her. she turned around, automatically tightening her hold on her ipod. and the person that walked in was the one that she least expected. lucas slumped against the back of the door, and lily was a bit stunned on how to continue. he obviously hadn't seen her, judging on how he wasn't even looking at her, and she stood in silence. what was she supposed to say to the guy she'd broken up with? "hey lucas," she spoke, barely above a whisper. the music was still blaring out of her earbuds, and she was sure the boy sitting opposite her could hear it clearly. ---------------------------------------------------------------- * / CREDIT moi. * / STATUS finished * / TAG lucas <3 * / WORDS 666 * / COMMENTS ...awesome word count. * / LYRICS 3OH!3
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