What's Your Story? [Open]

[Renasance [Admin]]

Tell me baby
What's your story?
Where you come from
And where you want to go this time,oh

Isadora was not pleased. Isadora was far from please. She. Was. Pissed!

"Let go of me you narrow-minded, pathetic excuse for human flesh!" Izzy's screams could probably be heard in Sweden by now. Tears streamed Isadora's black makeup down her porcelain face, giving her the look of a damaged angel.

Her black combat boots squealed in protest against the floor as two large male Orderlies drug her down the main entrance hall. A howling noise, what you would think a wild Amazonian would sound like, erupted from the black-clad girl's lungs. She dug her perfectly black manicured fingernails into the guys hands, momentarily startling them.

Izzy quickly regained her balance and took off for the exit, crackling radios announcing an attempted escape. She lept over a set of chairs, graceful as a gazelle, and had her hands on the door. A male's hand grabbed the back of her band-button and obscene-patch encrusted leather jacket and drug her backwards into the hands of two security guards.

Isadora Eloise Rose Winters would not be man-handled like that. The daughter of pure French wealth and a daddy with a finger in every pie did not belong in this place. She wasn't crazy, dammit! She was just rebellious.

"LET ME GOOOOOOO! I do not belong here with a bunch of crazy wackadoos! G'off ME! Get your filthy barbarian hands off me! When my daddy hears about this you will never see work again!" Her screams seemed to stay at a steady level of force, proof of her years of vocal lessons and show-casing a band.

Izzy saw someone out of the corner of her eye carrying a straight jacket. No, no, no, nonononono! She screamed, kicked, scratched, and general tried to escape. She was pressed against the floor and her favorite leather jacket pulled from her like she was a dress up doll. The replacement was an ill-fitting, off-white straight jacket that made her feel like a mental defect hugging herself.

"See, this is what we should have done in the first place, now where's the Thorazine injection?" A voice near her feet spoke.

Suddenly she felt one arm being loosened only to feel a cold sensation and the stick of a needle in her left shoulder. She kicked someone next to her and suddenly felt very ill. She curled up in as much of a ball as she could, the world becoming a fog, voices becoming quicksand.

She was sat against what she could only presume was the check in desk, her eyes darting around for anyone familiar. She caught her dad's eyes and a hoarse 'Help me, daddy' escaped her lips before she banged her head back against the wall and she felt she couldn't speak.

Tears raged down her face, but now it was because she finally understood.
She was being locked away.
A defective reject, her parents didn't want her.
If only Grand-mere Eloise could see her now.

[Shou (Kenji)]

We’re disposable teens…

Shou sat on one of the entrance hall’s signature couches, his body practically melting into the welcoming furniture. He’d seen quite a few people being dragged into the place, each one followed or preceded by a parent—rarely were both parents present. The child would beg and plead or kick and scream, but the parent would sign the forms and stroll out as if they were dropping off some stray dog or cat. Most of the adults looked as if they were doing something humane by abandoning their children. Hiding the imperfect from the perfect—no, they were destroying the imperfect, slowly and painfully.

When the local hospital had Shou transported to Willowcreek, there were two male nurses that escorted him through the main doors and left him for the asylum staff to handle. He took it upon himself to sit and wait for someone to notice him, quiet and unconcerned with his own ending. He didn’t see a reason to fight fate; he’d get dragged away just like every other imperfect angel he’d seen. The hospital would clip his wings and stuff him into a cage, much like someone’s pet parrot, and then he’d be expected to beg and perform on command. Being tossed out like trash was beyond troublesome.

Instead of trying to rush the nurse into dragging him away, Shou grabbed himself a cup of coffee from the machine and stirred in eighteen packets of sugar. He actually hated coffee, but he had the urge to force it down, treating himself to a last meal. It was around that time when he heard yet another person screaming and cursing, begging to be set free. The orderlies from Willowcreek had swarmed, but only two took on the job of dragging the girl into the institution. She was young, definitely another teenager, with dark hair and large lungs.

Shou dropped his coffee when her loud voice seemed to crescendo. The hot coffee went right down the front of his navy t-shirt, turning the fair skin beneath a lovely shade of red. He swore and tugged the fabric away from his skin, but he had already been burnt and the shirt ruined. Just when he thought he’d be forced to wait around with the screaming girl, he saw another orderly approach her from the side, a straightjacket in hand. If he hadn’t dropped his coffee before, he would have dropped it then. For some reason, he never thought of the straightjackets, the needles—he had imagined a white room.

His brown eyes focused on the makeup that seemed to stream like rivers down the girl’s pallid skin. At that moment, he knew he’d never get out alive. He’d seen his last sunrise and sunset on free soil. He’d eaten his last slice of cheesy-bread pizza. He’d lose everything, dignity included. “Kenjiro Shou? Will you come quietly?” He tore his eyes away from the girl and nodded, suddenly mute. The orderly that had spoken took Shou by the elbow and began to drag him towards the entrance to the actual ward.

Shou kept looking over his shoulder, trying to paint a vivid picture of the doors he’d never see again. He suddenly wished his parents had escorted him to the asylum. Then again, he would have been just like the other pathetic patients, sobbing and pleading for another chance. He didn’t want that; he didn’t need that. It was so much easier being quiet.

[Renasance [Admin]]

"So raise your glass if you are wrong,
In all the right ways,
All my underdogs,
We will never be never be anything but loud
And nitty gritty dirty little freaks
Won't you come on and come on and raise your glass,
Just come on and come on and raise your glass"

Since this was her first dose of the dreaded Thorazine it seemed to seep down to her very bones. She twitched against the restraints and closed her eyes, trying to get her thoughts to come together. Suddenly the look her father gave her, that look of 'you're a failure' burst through her mind and she sat upright.

The Thorazine was being battled by the waves of adrenaline surging through her veins. She did a little contortionist act, remember the times she'd seen her friend aptly nicknamed Houdini wiggle out of handcuffs, and suddenly the straps in the back loosened enough than she could free herself. She made sure no gaurds were eyeing her, and slipped off the straight jacket.

She stood up banging her head on the low setting outer parts of the sign in desk. She bit her tongue as she best she could as she pushed herself all the way up. She glanced around, quickly looking for the easiest exit. Her eyes spotted a rather interesting Asian boy with a large coffee stain on his shirt being talked to by an orderly.

She slipped down behind a nearby table, waiting for the orderly to leave. Suddenly hands grabbed her and she heard radio garble. She was face-to-face with what was either a man in full drag or a very ugly female American Gladiator. She dug her nails into the it's arms to try to get loose. Suddenly she was swarmed on by at least three more orderlies, all conversing about how she escaped from a straight jacket and was not rolling around from the Thorazine.

"Miss Winters, we have to ask that you not cause a scene, there are some very temperamental patients here. " The he-she said, in a deep voice she assumed was to soothe her.
"Look Helga! Get your disgusting gender confused drumstick hands off of me!" Izzy screamed as the woman's hands grabbed her waist.
"Now, Miss Winters, that was not an appropriate thing to say!"[/b] The thing said holding Izzy's gaze coldly.
"Look Celine D'Man, I'm not sure to sue for sexual harassment or break out in a scene from Priscilla, lemme go!" Izzy said watching the persons face fall in sadness.

Suddenly she was being held by both arms by orderlies and forced infront of the registration desk.
"Is this psycho's room ready yet?" The larger of the orderlies asked the woman behind the desk.
"FUCK YOU!"Izzy screamed, thrashing like a wild animal.

She looked over at the boy calmly speaking with the orderly and Izzy gave him a death glare.
"Why aren't your running, moron? They're getting ready to lock you away like a prisoner!" She kept her eyes on him, her angry face faltering to panic. [/color][/size]