Evelyn sat in the common room, at the coveted table by the window that overlooked the koi pond and its little picturesque Monet bridge. A Robert Frost collection was laid open on the table in front of her.
A voice said, Look me in the stars..
She wasn't reading, but instead gazed through the window, watching the irridescent orange-and-white smears of the koi as they flitted beneath the water. The pond itself, even the too-pretty bridge, were gated, fenced in so they wouldn't be a danger to the patients. Look but don't touch, don't experience.
She had tried to escape four times since arriving here. She had simply walked out the door the first time, past the clinically manicured hedges, through the cast-iron gate and down the black tarmac of the driveway. And then, seemingly an instant later, with no memory of how she got there, she woke in the bed in the room that served as her prison cell (though of course they never called it that), and she was secured with leather restraints for a day or so, and watched closely, until Dr. Hobb gave the order to give her some space and freedom. So accomodating, this Dr. Hobb. She didn't like him. He was up to something. (Did that sound like paranoia? She wasn't sure... it might be paranoid. Maybe her perceptions weren't exactly reliable. Isn't that what they kept telling her?)
And tell me truly, men of earth...
A man and a woman were entering the room, well dressed, poised, high society. Her parents, Robert and Isabelle Alvar. Well, technically, Robert was her stepfather. She'd been uncertain about whether or not he knew this until recently.
She looked at her mother. Isabelle always looked well-groomed, dainty, the perfect aging Southern belle-- though there always seemed to be something... missing in her eyes. A kind of blankness that often spiked with unspoken resentment when she looked at Evelyn, though Evelyn was fairly certain her mother didn't fully understand why.
Robert pulled out a chair for his wife and then straightened his tie, looking somewhat uncomfortably around the room before taking his own seat. "Evelyn," he said. "It's good to see you."
"I c'n tell," she said. She was trying to sound sarcastic, but it came out sounding more slurred.
"Don't mouth off to me, young lady," he retorted, and she bristled at being spoken to like a child. "You're here for your own good. You know that."
"Oh, am I?" Shaking her head, she gave a small, bitter laugh. "...Can 'magine what this's doing t'your poll numbers." She peered at him closely. "Though I s'pect you're payin' people t'keep it quiet. All this must be so embarrasing for you. But why'm I here? How'd you learn about..." she trailed off, gesturing in loose circles and staring at him with glassy, inquiring eyes.
"Doesn't matter where I learned about it, sweetpea," he drawled silkily in his polititian's voice. She cringed at the pet name, the artifice that dripped from his voice as he said it. "Fact is, sweetheart, ya need help. An' I'm makin' sure you get it. Dr. Hobb's very good at 'is job. He'll help you get back to reality." If all the soul-and-body scars... "I already know what's real," she told him.
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timeasmymeasure
Evelyn
Date: 2015-09-12 09:43 pm (UTC)A voice said, Look me in the stars..
She wasn't reading, but instead gazed through the window, watching the irridescent orange-and-white smears of the koi as they flitted beneath the water. The pond itself, even the too-pretty bridge, were gated, fenced in so they wouldn't be a danger to the patients. Look but don't touch, don't experience.
She had tried to escape four times since arriving here. She had simply walked out the door the first time, past the clinically manicured hedges, through the cast-iron gate and down the black tarmac of the driveway. And then, seemingly an instant later, with no memory of how she got there, she woke in the bed in the room that served as her prison cell (though of course they never called it that), and she was secured with leather restraints for a day or so, and watched closely, until Dr. Hobb gave the order to give her some space and freedom. So accomodating, this Dr. Hobb. She didn't like him. He was up to something. (Did that sound like paranoia? She wasn't sure... it might be paranoid. Maybe her perceptions weren't exactly reliable. Isn't that what they kept telling her?)
And tell me truly, men of earth...
A man and a woman were entering the room, well dressed, poised, high society. Her parents, Robert and Isabelle Alvar. Well, technically, Robert was her stepfather. She'd been uncertain about whether or not he knew this until recently.
She looked at her mother. Isabelle always looked well-groomed, dainty, the perfect aging Southern belle-- though there always seemed to be something... missing in her eyes. A kind of blankness that often spiked with unspoken resentment when she looked at Evelyn, though Evelyn was fairly certain her mother didn't fully understand why.
Robert pulled out a chair for his wife and then straightened his tie, looking somewhat uncomfortably around the room before taking his own seat. "Evelyn," he said. "It's good to see you."
"I c'n tell," she said. She was trying to sound sarcastic, but it came out sounding more slurred.
"Don't mouth off to me, young lady," he retorted, and she bristled at being spoken to like a child. "You're here for your own good. You know that."
"Oh, am I?" Shaking her head, she gave a small, bitter laugh. "...Can 'magine what this's doing t'your poll numbers." She peered at him closely. "Though I s'pect you're payin' people t'keep it quiet. All this must be so embarrasing for you. But why'm I here? How'd you learn about..." she trailed off, gesturing in loose circles and staring at him with glassy, inquiring eyes.
"Doesn't matter where I learned about it, sweetpea," he drawled silkily in his polititian's voice. She cringed at the pet name, the artifice that dripped from his voice as he said it. "Fact is, sweetheart, ya need help. An' I'm makin' sure you get it. Dr. Hobb's very good at 'is job. He'll help you get back to reality."
If all the soul-and-body scars...
"I already know what's real," she told him.
Were not too much to pay for birth.