Thread: Amnesia (Nico x Hahvoc)

RE Amnesia He had been sentenced to live out his days in a mental hospital. The verdict had never surprised him but then again, most people would have been surprised if they were right in the head. He was smart, smarter than most, but he knew that something was disconnected from what should have made him a human being. And yet he had never been able to make himself care. He had indulged a secret, wondering how his handsome little therapist would have been able to handle himself. He had been cocky, impulsive, and because of his confession he had been arrested and sent to this hell-hole where he was surrounded by the insane that screamed at invisible demons and were scared of things like bunnies to the point that they would piss themselves at the very mention of the things. Pathetic. Lowell Kerrigan sat in the common room, fiddling with a chess piece. He was holding the queen in his hands, his fingers running over the facets cut into the little plastic piece. He had a chess set at home that had been made of glass and was much more elegant and regal than the piece he held in his hands but he felt powerful just holding it and knowing that he was saner than most of the people in this place. He wanted out of here. Looking at his arms, he counted the cuts, one for every month he had been here. The combination of cuts on his arms showed him he had been here for three years. Three years was long enough to him. They thought he was cutting because he was insane but no, he was cutting to keep himself sane and keep track of time. They didnt care to tell you how long you had been in this place. They didnt care to let you know what time it was unless it was relevant to their little programs that he despised. His favorite pastime was to point out all the flaws of the orderlies and the crazies. He spilled the secrets of their fears and sent them back in their therapy by months if not years. It was the only game he ever enjoyed. Yet here he was, treated like an insane criminal because he had divulged to his therapist that he wanted to know what it would be like to cut someone open while they were still alive and take out their organs. To make them look like a marionette with their strings cut off, head and hands removed and then rearranged inside their chest cavity. It had been a fantasy that had plagued him and when he had spilled that secret, he had felt the sickness that was inside him well up and spill over his faculties. Maybe he was crazy. The thought just made him grin. He knew he hadnt always felt this way but something in him was lost long ago and even now he didnt know what it was. Perhaps a wire in his brain just had never fully connected. Well, he would just be an ordinary little moronic thing if it had, now wouldnt he? But he would get out. He would. ------------ Where was he? Lowell stumbled around in the rising dawn, wondering where the hell he was. He honestly had no clue. Hell, he didnt even know who he was much less where he was. But he felt that he needed to hide to disappear, to do something besides walk around in the coming daylight. His feet hurt from his lack of shoes but why wasnt he hearing shoes? And what kind of clothes was he even wearing? There were too many questions with no answers. He was lost somewhere in this city, at least, he believed this was a city. And it was cold. Wrapping his arms around himself, he knew instinctively he had been walking for a long time and he had blood on his arms. Yet that blood wasnt his, he knew that. What had he been doing? Where was he? Why was he even out here? Shouldnt he be somewhere else? The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt, a cut on his head causing blood to get into his eyes. He wiped it away quickly, as if afraid the blood would do something to him. He was lost. He had to be. Why else couldnt he remember where he was? What happened to me..? He asked no one but the trees that surrounded him. They had no answer and so he leaned against one, white clothes bright in the darkness. Why couldnt he remember anything? Had he fallen down? Wincing, he put his hands to his head, cradling it as he forced himself to relax. Someone would help him, right? Someone justhad to helpright? But help him with what? It was too confusing to think.