>>forever in a day<<Cici

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It's like forgetting the words to your favorite song
You can't believe it
You were always singing along
It was so easy and the words so sweet
You can't remember, you try to feel the beat

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Two tiny feet hover closely to the swaying grass below, the green strands almost seeming to reach up in an attempt to grasp the wiggling toes - hands that grow from the ground and yearn to grab hold of their brethren. A laugh as sweet as bells is heard ringing through the landscape, the vision of a woman with eccentric clothing seen holding a young child by the arms and swaying to a music that does not exist. The beautiful memory seems to create it's own music - the notes made up of the laughs that carry across the gentle wind. The two feet descend toward the ground until the soles stand uncertainly upon the ground that seems to shake beneath such weak legs. Knees find the ground and a confused cry finds the air.

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White, white, white.The color seems to burst through the vivid dream, consuming the vision whole until such a happy world only seems to exist behind shut lids. The sounds of laughter seem to fade into the void that exists within my mind (or at least that's what I call the chilling quiet that hovers over my thoughts, like a wall that shuts off any sound) and are instead replaced with the gentle talk of people outside such a white room and the quiet beep, beep, beep on a monitor. Nothing in the room stirs, not even my stiff limbs that stand as straight as a board across the small bed.

Everything seems off, as if someone had just plucked me from the field of my dreams and dropped me onto such a blank canvas. I don't even know why I am here, only that this isn't where I belong. Eyes shut in an attempt to go back to the vicinity that exists only in my thoughts, yet the moment black consumes the white that once hovered too brightly before my eyes, that seems to be the only color that comes to mind. No other color finds my vision, the only sound being the last cry slowly fading away into the void - never to be heard... or remembered again. My eyes shut together tighter, wrinkles creasing across my head as I strain to bring back the memory, as I strain to simply recall the colors, yet all that comes back is the quickened breath of one in panic.

White consumes me once my eyes widen to the realization that I remember nothing. My small form fights to get off the bed that holds me in place, yet straps across my limbs only confirms my conclusion that I don't belong here. A spasm seems to run through my veins in an attempt to be freed, yet the only answer is the quickened beepbeepbeepbeepbeep that responds to my panic. My spine arches as a cry splits across the blank canvas that I seem to be chained to, the sound muffled to a soft sob as my back crashes back to the board beneath me.

Footsteps are not enough to lift my face from my lifted knees, a salty liquid seeping sideways across my face until it falls upon the white canvas. Words are not heard through the sobs that rack through my form, clenched teeth threatening to open and spill out each word that comes to mind. These words seeming to be the only things that stir within such a quiet state of mind, as if the beauty of the past had been completely wiped out, only to be replaced with such a haunting present. "Abily, please listen to me. You're okay," a voice says through the turmoil that grows within me, each word as loud and as unsoothing as an earthquake. How dare they talk to me with such gentle tones, as if the fact that I don't even know who I am is okay.

Confusion and anger seep through me like a snake, the creature seeming to run through my veins and immobilize me like the prey that I am, until I am forced to lift my head from my clenched fingers and face the ones that hold me captive. Yet all I'm faced with is the vision of the lady that had spoken before leaving, replaced with a boy a few moments later. Daggers pierce through my orbs, directed toward the form that looms so close to my bed. My clenched teeth finally open to reveal the harsh words that swarm through me, yet all that comes out is a quit whimper of "what's wrong with me?" All defenses crumple like my limbs, my eyes searching the face of the boy before cascading back down as my head takes it's place within my palms. The true form of one who is lost, in the complete sense of the word.


{ooc; Oh ripred, so sorry for this confusing post, I haven't RPed in months and am still a little rusty. Just ask if some part is confusing, or tell me if you'd like me to change anything.}[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size]

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There’s something about the white walls that I like. [/i]I can’t exactly put my tongue to it; maybe it’s the way they so effortlessly block out the wilderness beyond this little building. Maybe it’s the way they don’t scream at me to feel something or be something or have some sort of greater meaning. They’re just there. I’m just here.[/i] The world doesn't have to be much more complicated than that to work. When I was six, my mother took me to work for the first time and I asked her why the hospital walls were white. She told me it was because different colors mean different things to people;[/i] red might make someone angry or blue could trigger sad memories. She said it’s most prominently an issue with patients who have mental illnesses. Back then, I hated the blank walls; they made the hospital feel like a prison. It took me several years to realize that sometimes we all need a little imprisonment to keep out the nightmares.[/i]

I feel the same as anyone else in my white jacket, standing beneath a white ceiling, surrounded by white walls. It’s nice – that feeling of knowing you don’t have anything to prove,[/i] that you can just be the same as anyone else and no one will judge you for your lack of character. I don't want to be unique or different. Is it such a sin to just be?[/i] I walk down the hall, my hands plastered stiffly to my side. Another morning, another day, and I’m left doing the dirty work: making sure people have their medication, making sure everyone has their breakfast, making sure patients don’t fall off their freaking chairs and die, although that’s a pretty likely thing around here. [/i]But first, I need to find Thomas, the other intern. He should be in room 223. I turn the handle and open it, just as he’s approaching the patient in the room, Abily. “Thomas, you haven’t given Martha her medication today, have you? Because I’m just about to”—

“I haven’t, but good idea; I should do that now,” he says quickly trying to escape from the room. “You can look after Abily for a bit.”

“No, I’ve got”—but he’s already out the door. I roll my eyes; I just want to be done with all of these nursing jobs. From what I’ve heard about Abily, she’s not getting better.[/i] Thomas always complains about having her as a patient and about how it’s been months since she could remember his face for longer than several hours. I think the entire hospital’s lost hope on her, but what else can we do but keep her here? Supposedly, she can’t even remember where she’s from! Hopeless patient, hopeless intern: what a fantastic team we’ll make, huh?[/i] Before crossing over to Abily, who’s oddly quiet at this point, I sit down at the computer and pull up her files. "What's wrong with me?" She whispers softly. I’m not sure if she even realizes that someone new is in the room; she hasn’t lifted her face yet.[/i]

“Nothing wrong,” I say nonchalantly. “Be happy you don’t have to remember. It’s a gift, really. The past is a brutal thing.” Wouldn’t it be nice to forget myself? To forget all that fear that once struck me to the ground before I could pull myself up again? It’s difficult to speak to her and read her files at the same time, so I go silent for a couple of minutes, scrolling through her records. I like filling my time with things that can easily distract me from the haunting thoughts that often like to visit. [/i]When I’ve finally scrolled through the gist of Abily’s records, I stand up and cross the room to her bed. I look at the monitor curiously, but having no idea how to read and interpret it, end up ignoring the machine. My eyes wander from the monitor to Abily and I see that she’s strapped to the bed. “Jesus Christ, Thomas. This isn’t the Detention Center.” I undo the straps, but I realize that the more words I say, the more confused this girl’s probably getting.

I know I’m not supposed to undo the straps; heck, I’m not even supposed to be looking after Abily. But we can all thank Thomas for that later. “Now, you need to stay on the bed, okay?” I say, as though I’m a parent trying to make sure my kid goes to sleep. Not at all sure what I’m supposed to with her at this point, I improvise. “I’m Reve,” I say. Sadly, it’ll be a while until I can introduce myself as Dr. Fosco. “I’m an eighteen years old girl, I’m an intern at this hospital and also a college student, my parents’ names are Marcus and Cynthia, I’m an only child,” (at least at this point),” I live on the north side of District Six, and my favorite color is white.” I walk over to the computer, ready to document whatever she says next. “Now I need you to do the same thing I just did. Introduce yourself to me. Anything you can remember.”
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