StarBoi465
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A smart-ass kid with a knack for getting in trouble.
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“Mmh?” Arrow stirred when he heard someone speak. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, rolling over lazily to face his roommate. Man, why was he always so tired all the time? He brushed his messy hair out of his eyes and had to blink a few times before the sleep cleared from his vision. He could smell the cigarette before he could see it. It was actually a sort of a comforting scent, which he thought was a little weird. With the exception of the bleach they used to clean, there weren't any defined scents in the facility. The smell of nicotine reminded him of his mother, who always used to sit on the back porch with her cigarette.
He banished the thoughts of home as quickly as they arrived. That wasn't something he could think about, not here. “Oh, good morning.” He said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He turned and crossed his legs so he could face the other occupant. He raked his brain, trying to remember his roommate's name, or if they had even really met before. He didn't think they had, but he felt awkward asking. He reached for the water bottle on his table and took a swig of it, ignoring the pills. There looked to be about six of those suckers in the little cup. He had no doubt that even just half the dose of shit they pumped him with was enough to kill a small child.
His head tilted in curiosity. “Do they let you have those here?” He asked. He ran his finger sub-consciously along his collarbone as he spoke, tracing the greenish blotches from bruises that had yet to completely fade.
He banished the thoughts of home as quickly as they arrived. That wasn't something he could think about, not here. “Oh, good morning.” He said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily. He turned and crossed his legs so he could face the other occupant. He raked his brain, trying to remember his roommate's name, or if they had even really met before. He didn't think they had, but he felt awkward asking. He reached for the water bottle on his table and took a swig of it, ignoring the pills. There looked to be about six of those suckers in the little cup. He had no doubt that even just half the dose of shit they pumped him with was enough to kill a small child.
His head tilted in curiosity. “Do they let you have those here?” He asked. He ran his finger sub-consciously along his collarbone as he spoke, tracing the greenish blotches from bruises that had yet to completely fade.
“Get yer arse up, boy.”
Arrow's eyes flew open at the sound of his father's drunken, slurred speech. The room was dark and silent, and it took him a few long seconds to remember where he was. His hands clenched the edges of the mattress and his heart hammered against the inside of his ribcage. He sat up slowly, squinting into the darkness. Across the room he could see the dark shape of his roommate on the other bed, so he must still be in his room. It was not uncommon for someone to come and collect him just before wake-up, so it might have been the first time he actually woke up there.
His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he brushed it back, using his fingers like a comb. Was it hot? He was probably just from the nightmares. He pulled his white tee shirt off and tossed it to the foot of his bed, then flopped back onto his pillow. What time was it? There was no way to tell, because there wasn't a clock or a window in the room. In fact, he hadn't noticed much more then the two beds. Each of them had a small night table with a single drawer. He rolled over and opened his, but it was empty.
He laid there for what felt like hours. He drifted in and out of sleep, but not really enough to actually feel rested. Just when he thought he would go crazy from waiting, the lights came on in the room. He groaned and covered his face as the sterile white light filled his vision. Just as he started to regain his sight a nurse walked in the room. She didn't say anything, but handed him a little plastic cup with a few pills in it, as well as a bottle of water. She smiled ever so slightly at him, maybe amused by his extreme bed-head, then set a clean set of clothes on his table and left.
He eyed the cup of pills suspiciously before setting it down on the table. He wasn't going to take those nasty thing willingly. Besides, it had always been the injections before. Why would they suddenly switch to pills? Maybe because of the biting incident? Either way, he didn't trust them.
He wasn't sure what they were supposed to do after the lights came on. Perhaps he was supposed to go find breakfast or something, but he had no idea where it would be. So, instead he sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, eventually dozing off again.
Arrow's eyes flew open at the sound of his father's drunken, slurred speech. The room was dark and silent, and it took him a few long seconds to remember where he was. His hands clenched the edges of the mattress and his heart hammered against the inside of his ribcage. He sat up slowly, squinting into the darkness. Across the room he could see the dark shape of his roommate on the other bed, so he must still be in his room. It was not uncommon for someone to come and collect him just before wake-up, so it might have been the first time he actually woke up there.
His hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and he brushed it back, using his fingers like a comb. Was it hot? He was probably just from the nightmares. He pulled his white tee shirt off and tossed it to the foot of his bed, then flopped back onto his pillow. What time was it? There was no way to tell, because there wasn't a clock or a window in the room. In fact, he hadn't noticed much more then the two beds. Each of them had a small night table with a single drawer. He rolled over and opened his, but it was empty.
He laid there for what felt like hours. He drifted in and out of sleep, but not really enough to actually feel rested. Just when he thought he would go crazy from waiting, the lights came on in the room. He groaned and covered his face as the sterile white light filled his vision. Just as he started to regain his sight a nurse walked in the room. She didn't say anything, but handed him a little plastic cup with a few pills in it, as well as a bottle of water. She smiled ever so slightly at him, maybe amused by his extreme bed-head, then set a clean set of clothes on his table and left.
He eyed the cup of pills suspiciously before setting it down on the table. He wasn't going to take those nasty thing willingly. Besides, it had always been the injections before. Why would they suddenly switch to pills? Maybe because of the biting incident? Either way, he didn't trust them.
He wasn't sure what they were supposed to do after the lights came on. Perhaps he was supposed to go find breakfast or something, but he had no idea where it would be. So, instead he sat on the bed and leaned against the wall, eventually dozing off again.
Sorry, my Internet went out! Will post soon
I also live in the US. In Florida. So, EST.
408
When he stood, Arrow's vision went blank for a moment. He felt like all the blood in his upper body dissolved, like that feeling when you hang upside down for too long and then sit back upright. His eyes rolled, and it took a second for him to regain his senses. He didn't notice the man had been holding him upright until he let go, and suddenly Arrow felt small again. The man took a step back and cleared his throat, wearing an expression Arrow couldn't quite identify. If it was anyone else he would have said it was embarrassment, but for some reason Arrow had a hard time believing that was it.
Before Arrow could say any kind of thanks, the man turned, speaking over his shoulder as he walked away. “...They're here to help you, not hurt you.” The words weren't convincing, but perhaps it was this man's round-about way of trying to comfort him. Arrow held up his hand, a gesture of acknowledgment and farewell, before turning to walk the other way.
He remembered he was staying in room 17. However, the few times he had actually been there he had been so wiped out from the effects of his medication the doctors practically had to carry him. He recalled being told he had a roommate, but he wasn't sure if they had actually met. If they had, he couldn't remember their name. No guards, nurses or anyone else seemed to be looking for him, so he guessed he was just supposed to go to the room. He walked down the hallway slowly, squinting at the numbers painted on the doors, looking for the right one.
He turned a bend into a hallway that – of course – looked just like the rest. A few doors down, he found the one with a gray number 17 standing out on an otherwise perfect white paint job. He stood in front of it for a moment, feeling a little unsure of himself. He was sure he probably still looked like a wreck. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing away any tears that might still be clinging to his lashes. He knocked once on the door before opening it and poking his head inside. He called out a soft “Hello” to announce his presence before stepping inside.
Arrow was the first one back. He breathed a small sigh of relief, glad he would get at least a few short minutes of solitude. The room was bare, with the walls once again being painted all white. Though perhaps it was just his imagination, but the shade of white seemed to be just a little darker, as if it had almost tried to be a creamy color. A single florescent light lit up the space. There didn't seem be be a switch, so it was probably automatic.
There were two beds on either side of the room. One was already made up with white sheets and a single pillow. The other still had the sheets folded neatly at the foot of the mattress, but had yet to be put on. Arrow assumed that was his bed, so he moved across the room and flopped heavily onto it.
'I'll put the sheets on in a minute,' he said to himself, eyelids heavy, 'I'll just relax for a minute first.'
Before Arrow could say any kind of thanks, the man turned, speaking over his shoulder as he walked away. “...They're here to help you, not hurt you.” The words weren't convincing, but perhaps it was this man's round-about way of trying to comfort him. Arrow held up his hand, a gesture of acknowledgment and farewell, before turning to walk the other way.
He remembered he was staying in room 17. However, the few times he had actually been there he had been so wiped out from the effects of his medication the doctors practically had to carry him. He recalled being told he had a roommate, but he wasn't sure if they had actually met. If they had, he couldn't remember their name. No guards, nurses or anyone else seemed to be looking for him, so he guessed he was just supposed to go to the room. He walked down the hallway slowly, squinting at the numbers painted on the doors, looking for the right one.
He turned a bend into a hallway that – of course – looked just like the rest. A few doors down, he found the one with a gray number 17 standing out on an otherwise perfect white paint job. He stood in front of it for a moment, feeling a little unsure of himself. He was sure he probably still looked like a wreck. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, clearing away any tears that might still be clinging to his lashes. He knocked once on the door before opening it and poking his head inside. He called out a soft “Hello” to announce his presence before stepping inside.
Arrow was the first one back. He breathed a small sigh of relief, glad he would get at least a few short minutes of solitude. The room was bare, with the walls once again being painted all white. Though perhaps it was just his imagination, but the shade of white seemed to be just a little darker, as if it had almost tried to be a creamy color. A single florescent light lit up the space. There didn't seem be be a switch, so it was probably automatic.
There were two beds on either side of the room. One was already made up with white sheets and a single pillow. The other still had the sheets folded neatly at the foot of the mattress, but had yet to be put on. Arrow assumed that was his bed, so he moved across the room and flopped heavily onto it.
'I'll put the sheets on in a minute,' he said to himself, eyelids heavy, 'I'll just relax for a minute first.'
Also, I added some hiders with pix of how parts of some of my characters could potentially look, which I don't normally do, but you all did, so I felt left out :P Hahaha so feel free to check em out if you want. And yes, Remmington is Natalie Portman. Get over it XD
You describe her hair as being shorter, but I saw this pic in my perusing of the internet and it made me think of (how I picture) Alytra.
<3 Alright. I'll post soon. And then scare people because INCOMING FLY TACKLE CUDDLES.
Come at me, bro.
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