* - - so just pull the trigger ,

[JANE ELIZABETH HAMPTON.]

and you can see my heart beating
* - - - - - - - - you can see it through my chest

it took about ten minutes when she woke up to figure out where she was. jane blinked at the few furniture she had in her small, white room. her wide brown eyes were simply staring at the walls, at the papers laying on her desk, as if she had never seen any of these things before, even though they were all hers. or well, what the asylum had given her. for a few seconds, she was trembling, feeling one of her many crisis of anxiety coming up. it was routine. every morning, the poor girl would wake up and would look around for a few minutes. you see, jane was special.. different. just like every other person around here. she had absolutely no idea who she was, how old she was, she didn’t know anything about herself. everything that she knew, doctors had told her. she didn’t have the right to doubt. she couldn’t, in fact. if she did, it meant that she had no identity, and she couldn’t possibly live with that. it was impossible. totally. so she just lived with what doctors told her. she apparently was jane elizabeth hampton. for some reason, she liked it. it felt.. nice, kind of. she was fifteen years old, apparently and she thought she looked around that age. it was easier that way. since everything rather made sense, it was harder for her to doubt things. in fact, the only time she could think about it all was when she had nothing to do. which never happened, or, at least, only rarely. and that made it even harder. so jane was safe from doubting. for now, at least. anyway. once she realized where she was, the girl passed her legs over the end of her bed and stood up. gently, she replaced her pajama shirt and sighed. she tried not to make too much sound. walls were thin, very thin. every night or so, she would hear her neighbor screaming at non-existant demons and angels. of course, in the morning, she had no memory of that whatsoever. jane walked slowly over to the door of her room and pushed herself up on the tip of her toes, leaning slightly against it. she cupped her hands around her eyes as she pressed her nose against the small window and looked outside. hallways were calm. what time was it? she couldn’t exactly tell. there weren’t any windows in her room and, for some reason, she wasn’t allowed to have an alarm clock. slowly, jane leaned away from her door and turned her back to it. she tilted her head as she looked around her room and a sigh escaped her lips. what could she do? there was nothing she could do, except from writing or reading or taking a walk. she felt bored out of her mind, sometimes. and it was just depressing. she wondered, how were they meant to solve depression cases when the whole asylum was the thing that depressed those people the most? there was a reason, she was sure of that. but she just didn’t understand it. she didn’t understand most of the things that were happening here, in fact. or maybe she did understand some things. though, when she got them right, she would just forget about them. a soft moan escaped from jane’s mouth and she brought her delicate hands up to her temples, rubbing them to get rid of the headache that had just attacked her.

moving quickly over to her small wardrobe, she pulled off the tank top of her pajama and threw it in the basket laying near her desk with her dirty clothes in it. she pulled hard on the door knob of her wardrobe for a few seconds until it finally opened and made her stumble backwards. she blinked up at it and frowned. oh, yeah, she had to ask if it could be fixed. maybe she should have written a note about it to herself so she wouldn’t forget about it. wait, about what again? jane blinked. oh, the wardrobe door. immediately, she turned her back to it and took a few small steps toward her desk where she sat and pulled a blank piece of paper towards her. she picked up the pen that was laying right next to her left hand and wrote delicately “don’t forget to ask if the door of your wardrobe can be fixed”. picking up the paper, she stuck it to the wall right where she was sure she’d see it and moved back over to her wardrobe. what to put on, today. it didn’t really make any difference. Every single one of her clothes were plain and normal. no too colorful things, no signs nor anything written upon them. just blank, and sad, to be honest. well, as long as she wasn’t forced to wear one of those stupid hospital pajamas they made the others wear, most of the time, she didn’t complain. the girl shrugged and pulled out some grey, oversized, long sleeve t-shirt and some shorts which she threw on her bed. she slowly kneeled down in front of her wardrobe and reached in a box out of which she pulled a pair of black socks with hello kitty’s head on them. she then picked up some yellow shoes and walked over to her bed, dropping down on it. she got dressed rather quickly, brushed her hair a little, put on some eyeliner and grabbed her ipod touch and her pad to write on before she slowly walked out of her room, looking all around her. the last thing she wanted was to get caught, even if she wasn’t sure if she was allowed or not to be out here. though, when she walked by a window, she knew it was okay if she went out. the sun was up, which meant it was later then seven in the morning. most of the guards were probably eating by now with some patients. other patients were probably still in bed. she prefered that in fact. she prefered to be alone and not have to explain herself. she walked quickly down the hallways, nodding in the direction of a few people such as doctors and guards and rarely other patients, just so she’d seem polite. she didn’t really want anybody to be on her back and think she was anything but nice, really. that was another thing she didn’t really want at all. she went through the whole asylum, plugging the earphones of her ipod touch in her ears halfway through so she could act as if she hadn’t heard the person who’d be calling her if somebody did. but, soon enough, she ended up turning it on and going through the songs she had on it so she could listen to something. she had been starting to think and she just couldn’t let herself do that another time. otherwise, she’d probably end up having that horrible headache once again.

as she walked past the cafeteria, jane walked faster. she couldn’t let herself go in there to eat a little something. she would have to sit with people at the table and they would ask her questions, tons of questions. and she wouldn’t be able to answer to them all, and they would keep attacking her with them. another thing she absolutely didn’t want to happen right there. just thinking about it started to make her head spin a little. she started see things in double and walked even faster, focusing on the music that was pounding in her ears. her fragile arms wrapped themselves around her tiny waist and she frowned as she felt her stomach protest. mentally, she told it that it would have to wait. a little hour or two couldn’t hurt that much, right? as soon as she was out in the courtyard, jane dropped on one of the benches and pulled her knees to her chest, burrying her face in them. she took in a deep breath and held it in until she felt her heart beat slow down. once she let it go, she lifted her head slowly and looked up at the sky. it was rather grey and darkish, but she didn’t care. right now, all she needed was air. fresh air. she breathed as slowly as she could, always looking up and listening to her music. at least, until she felt the presence of somebody else. her heart started beating faster again, not matter how much she tried to keep calm. she panicked and she couldn’t do anything about it. she stopped the music and pulled the earphones out of her ears. she stood up and moved away from the bench. but then, she heard her name, pronounced by a voice that she loved to hear and which she immediately recognized. The girl spun around and smiled at the boy.

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TAGGED MISTER ZACHARY TAYLOR CARTER
CREDITS me for template, banner to @ CAUTION 2.0 and lyrics from ‘russian roulette’ by rihanna.
STATUS DONE :3
WORDS ONE FOUR EIGHT FOUR.
OUTFIT clickey timezz :3
MUSE everything on my comp :3
NOTES i never liked my starting threads >_<

[ZACHARY TAYLOR CARTER.]

G A T H E R A L L T H E H E A R T A C H E
i'll hold it in my hand just to lose it all again

therapy. the joys of the monstrous, not-so-soothing art of therapy. in essence and supposedly in practice it was a soothing and relaxing technique to allow the person receiving the treatment to find some peace of mind and work through their problems. like hell it actually helped. zachary was a sceptic in that respect. he did not believe for one tiny obscure moment that any of it actually worked, and the fact that someone got paid a considerable amount of money for doing what you could ask your pet was ridiculous. however, whilst here, therapy was just one of those rotten things zach had to put up with. he supposed the poor dears meant no harm, but talking about how he felt and what had happened during that particular day was not going to make him feel any better about the monster raging inside of him, nor make that monster dissolve away into where ever it fucking came from. alas, zach would deal with it. he would stay quiet and answer the questions put to him in a simple yet clever way, masking all bad thoughts and feelings away, pretending he was hunky dory so maybe they would decide that he didn't need to go to therapy anymore and he could have some peace. zach doubted greatly that they would ever come to that conclusion, but the boy could hope right? there was no harm in hope. even if that hope was dashed, burned and ripped into so many tiny pieces you would need a microscope to find them all again. but zach supposed that was the same way with most things. everything you held dear was always ripped from you at some time. whether it be because of general life, or when you died. it was life. not pleasant, but when was life ever pleasant. but back to therapy. zach woke up in the early hours of the morning in his little room for one, blinking his eyes open as he looked around at the bare, boring room before him. it was enough to drive him insane... oh wait, he was already insane apparently. at least according to the people here. but they were all branded with the same brush here. whether you were here for cancer, depression or severe agressive craziness, they were all insane. all troubled. they were both a horrible label, but it was one that seemed to be given so lightly here, so easily. zach still held firm to his own belief that he was neither of these labels, and he was simply someone with a problem, someone who was trying to get help with said problem, and instead of being discrimated against and been made to feel inferior to the rest of the world, he should in fact be praised for having the guts to admit to his problem and do something about it. but no, he was penalized for doing so. and zach went on, living in this place full of people that could and most probably would harm him, living in a place where people purposely tried to wind him up, just to get a reaction, living in a place where he could fucking hurt someone. but no, that was all just little minor details. he had to kept here for the safety of the public, for the safety of himself? maybe not so much. for here wasn't the safest place he had ever been under no circumstances.

zach sighed to himself as he threw the covers off his body and stood, stretching his aching limbs gently as he did every morning. he took a shower and did all his necessary daily tasks quickly and quietly, keeping quiet and to himself. he went to his wardrobe and picked out some clothes, all of them having been "screened", and what was appropriate he had been allowed to keep. he slipped on a pair of tight jeans, one of the only pairs that fit him to a degree that he didn't need a belt, and chucked on a plain grey teeshirt, chucking on his warm and soft hoodie over the top for warmth. and then it was time. the dreaded time to step outside his room and go to the dreaded room where he would be asked a million and one questions that he in fact, did not want to answer to some complete stranger. he did not want to talk about how he felt when he was raping someone. he did not want to talk about his triggers and his feelings about what happened to him when he became aroused. he didn't want the disgusted looks. he didn't want to go to therapy, in simple terms. but zach knew they would come and find him and drag him there if he didn't go willingly, and the seventeen year old didn't feel like being ragged about inappropriately by guards nearly three times his size thank you very much. and so zach plodded his way to therapy. he was surprised to find when he got there that no one was there. maybe this day was going to be a freaking good one. maybe his therapist wouldn't turn up and he could just do what he wanted? zach waited a couple of minutes, his eyes flitting slowly from right to left, searching for his therapist who could come round any corner at any time. a couple of minutes gone, and zach wasn't risking it. and so off he went. he couldn't be penalized for leaving if no one was there, for that would be entirely unfair. he had gone, no one had been there, so he had gone off to do his routine... whatever routine that was. he could always make one up off the top of his head if he needed to, just to fool them into believing it all. zach found it amusing how easy it was to lie to the staff here at alkaline and actually get away with it. when the level three had first arrived, he had thought that when he lied that the staff knew, that they just said nothing but agreed and scribbled down discriminating notes against him. but zach was beginning to think even that wasn't the case. for surely, it would add to his files that he was a compulsive liar as well as a sex raving agressive lunitic. 

once he had exited the corridor in which his therapy room was, he made his way through the asylum, wondering what the hell he could do today. yesterday he'd watched television mostly all day, he had also been incrediably bored and decided that the next time he didn't know what to do, to not just go watch television. for of course, zach couldn't just watch what he wanted, oh no, it had to be something asylum approved. which basically meant, nothing violent, sexual, with drugs, or with anything that could be deemed anything other than what a child could watch... which basically took away everything good on tv. they had even banned some cartoons, yes fucking cartoons were banned! it had made zach wonder whether these people honestly cared about his sanity at all. maybe they wanted to drive him completely up the wall so he could never leave and they could kill him off with the excuse that he was entirely unstable. hell, he was already unstable enough! zach decided that maybe he would go for a nice jog. there was something very relaxing about jogging that maybe zach needed right now. he needed to think and work out things in his head. he needed a life plan... or asylum plan? zach didn't think he would be leaving this dump for a while, so he needed a plan for while he was here. almost like a timetable. zach was an organized individual after all. he started walking outside towards the courtyard, knowing he could reach the gardens from there and work his way around the building. he passed the cafeteria, ignoring the stench from inside. zach could safely say he wasn't eating from there very regularely. one, the place stunk, and two, the food stunk even worse... just not as literally as the first. it was as he reached the said courtyard that he saw a familiar face, one which he couldn't but smile about seeing. maybe he would need to change his plans, just to spend some time with dear little jane. ah jane. zach had found a bond with the girl, interested in what she had to say, wanting to help her and make her smile. he at first didn't realize that jane was in fact listening to music, and instead he smiled and said her name softly, not wanting to startle her too much. "hey jane." he saw her tensing, suddenly feeling bad and wondering whether she actually remembered him. zach knew a little of her memory problems, but jane had never told him of the extent to which her memory failed her. zach would be very upset if she forgot him, but he could always make her remember him right? he saw her remove the ear phones, now realizing how she hadn't at first heard him. "jane, hun?" zach spoke softly again as she moved away, smiling widely as she spun and smiled. she remembered him. and the feeling the welled up inside of him was almost too much to bear. "hey..." was all that he said to her, not really knowing how to start a conversation, but knowing more than anything he wanted to.

TAG; miss jane.
STATUS; done.
WORD COUNT; one five nine one.
MUSIC; alesana, in her tomb by the sounding sea
NOTES; finally done, sorry for the wait <3
CREDIT; lisha for template. marynicole for graphic. scary kids scaring kids for lyrics.

[JANE ELIZABETH HAMPTON.]

and you can see my heart beating
* - - - - - - - - you can see it through my chest

as she looked around herself, jane couldn’t really remember why or how she had been brought here. well, the why was kind of obvious when she started giving of thought to it. she couldn’t remember anything of her past life and she couldn’t talk either. those were probably the reasons. doctors had told her that she had been found in a street, laying on the ground. but could she believe them, or anybody? she didn’t know. maybe they were lying, maybe they had just invented this to pretend they knew something about her. or maybe they were telling the truth. of course, the easiest way through it all was to believe them and just go with the flow. and that was exactly what she did. every single day, as far as she knew – which wasn’t really that far, she would just go with the flow and ignore her thoughts. but, from time to time, it was stronger than her. her mind would take over her body and she would think about everything, trying to figure out the littlest of details about her life. it was stupid and she knew it. it was like the fact that she couldn’t talk. she could have just decided to not talk to people at all and just ignore them. but, instead, she had wanted a pad to write on and be able to answer to people. she knew one thing – or thought she did. she knew that she wouldn’t have been able to just ignore people and be seen as the unsociable girl in the whole asylum. she would have felt so bad about it. doctors and therapists told her that she was a nice girl, that she liked people and was happy too. and since she had decided to go with the flow, she acted nice around others. she was so unsure of herself that it would have been hard for her to actually get mad at someone.. or something.. anyway. jane usually didn’t do anything unless doctors, or really anybody, told her to. she had difficulty to say no as well. no didn’t seem to be a word she had ever learned. if you asked for her help, or anything, even if you weren’t nice while asking it, she wouldn’t refuse. it was like refusing wasn’t it her genes. at all. whenever she had therapy, therapists would keep telling her that she had to be careful around here, that people would try to manipulate her into doing mean things and that she wouldn’t be able to say no to them. but, as far as she could remember, none of that had happened yet. or maybe it had and that was why they kept attacking her with it. maybes. it seemed, to her, that they were only maybes in her whole life. but, at the same time, she was the only one to see them. doctors seemed oh so sure of everything about her. but how could they be? they didn’t know her real name, her age, where she came from. they didn’t even know if she really was a human! or did they? everything was just getting way too confusing and she decided to abandon thinking about these things.

jane didn’t really have any friends around here. in fact, it didn’t seem like anybody really had friends. people around here just prefered to stay in their corners by themselves. and, to be honest, she prefered that sometimes. she knew that this was an asylum and none of them were really sane, including her. but some people around here were so violent that they could probably have killed her. doctors had told her that too. so, most of the time, she would stay away from people as well. so far, she had only met one person who was really nice and who she felt comfortable talking.. or well, writing to. until she saw him that morning, she couldn’t remember what his name was or what he looked like. all she knew was that the person was a boy. maybe.. however, once she saw him and that smile spread across her lips, she suddenly felt less confused, less lost. she now had something precise to focus on, and that was remembering what they had been talking about last time they had met. and he remembered her name. what if she didn’t, what if she just couldn’t? would he get mad at her? after all, she didn’t know him that much, did she? jane started panicking a little. whenever she felt a little nervous, it would get worse and worse and she would end up having a panick attack. unless the reason of her nervousness faded, of course. she focused only on that, finding his name. it had to be there, somewhere in her mind. jane wasn’t really any good with names, whether it was people’s names or animals’ names. she wasn’t. it was probably one of the things she had most difficulty remembering. even though she had been here for about a year – she was certain of that, she still couldn’t remember her therapists’ names. well, there was so many of them, anyway. so how was she meant to even remember his? they had only met once before, right? right. but still, she felt like she should be remembering his name. after all, he did know hers and it would only be polite to know his too. jane slowly moved around the bench over to him, looking down at her yellow shoes and still trying to remember. the pad on which she wrote everything she wanted to say was pressed tightly to her chest. she pulled the marker she used to write open and took the pad in her free hand. as slowly as she could without it looking too suspicious, she wrote the word ‘hello’ on the pad. now, to find his name. william? mason? anthony? jonathan? kyle? no.. she knew it was none of those. only then did she have a flash. ZACHARY. yes, that was it. the smile that had been stuck to her lips earlier and had faded a little reappeared as she wrote the name quickly and handed the pad over to the boy, looking up at him. her heart, which had been racing for the last seconds – which had seemed to her like hours, slowly calmed down as he read. for the first time, she was mostly sure of herself. she was convinced that that was his name.

it seemed so stupid, but that took a lot of weight off of her tiny, fragile shoulders. she had managed to remember something, finally. and that definately was a step forward. later, when she would have therapy, she would definately need to tell that to her therapist of the day. maybe he would see something in that, maybe she could remember other things too. however, she knew that she had to learn how to walk before she could run again. she had to start with small things. the girl was just so excited. this meant that she was actually progressing. What would it be after a week, a month, a year? maybe, in a few years, she would remember what had happened to her. but did she really want to do that? after all, for her to forget everything, what had happened to her must have been something really horrifying, right? otherwise, she didn’t understand why. there was, in fact, a lot of things she didn’t understand. but she guessed that would come back as well when she started remembering things.

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TAGGED MISTER ZACHARY TAYLOR CARTER
CREDITS me for template, banner to @ CAUTION 2.0 and lyrics from ‘russian roulette’ by rihanna.
STATUS DONE :3
WORDS ONE TWO SIX ONE.
OUTFIT clickey timezz :3
MUSE everything on my comp :3
NOTES sorry, i didn’t really have much muse for this D: