Smiling without sanity

Orbourne asylum~ Chapter 2

The demoted noble man sat still in the chair, limp and tired of everything. He harmlessly banged his head against the back of the metal chair he was still tightly restrained too, the boredom hurt more than he'd expected. But his friends were still there, like they always were.

"So Jonathan? How's things been?" Vincent asked with a smile, no one was there stood in front of him. But in his dulled eyes he could see people, 7 of them to be more precise. If you counted 'It' then you would end up with 8 entities in this room. The melting creature stood away from everyone, facing the corner of the room yet it seemed to be staring into the blue haired boy's soul.

A person answered. "It's been great actually! Finally Napoleon has left us! No more nuisances- after all he burnt in the fire he helped light!" The mentally conceived entity answered, or Jonathan as he'd been named.

"Shut up...We all know that Leon wasn't a bad guy, you only hate him because you couldn't date him." James answered quietly in the corner of the room, playing around with the strands of his colourless hair.

"Now, now. No arguing, we need to make sure nothing happens to do with th-закрой его" He suddenly shouted, looking right at the back of the featureless thing. "My apologies..." he mumbled, a single tear welling in his green eyes. "To do with that pathetic thing...we can't afford a switch in personnel at this current time..."

A silky voice entered his head, intertwining his thoughts; sending shivers up his spine. "I can assist with that~" She purred into his ear, wearing a sickening smirk. Master of the art of seduction, this woman was.

"Oh thank the lord Satan..." Jonathan mumbled, pushing his blond hair back. "Celine! I'm afraid he'll go mad, please help this." His soulless eyes became soft and convincing, despite the fact he was only imaginary, wrapping Celine around his finger with such ease.

"Willingly~." Her word ended abruptly as Vincent's head was slammed forward by the unseen force in his mind. All he could see was darkness as he fell limp once again. It was her speciality, controlling until a sudden snap caused simple yet controversial results.

The sound of horse hoofs treading on a cobbled path alerted him into wake, his heart racing and his head pounding in agony. 'God dammit Celine...you've done it again...' he thought, his eyes drearily opening to glance out of the window. Bars and chains covered the shabby wooden carriage, him to squint between cracks between the thick bars and the rusted metal links.

"Can you guys see anything clearly?" He asked, disoriented and feeling sick to his stomach. No response. "Guys?" He asked, only to remember that they were often silent until he was wide awake, they'd just stand and stare. This often phased him into states of paranoia for the entire day but today the cause of worry was something else. Something more severe. It was the sign he could vaguely see rolling up into the distance.

Orbourne asylum: Delinquent and mental     illness hospital.

A horrified expression set onto his face, the ever changing emotions succumbing to that daunting paranoia. His eyes went round and glazed over in fear, only one entity would enjoy this and they weren't here right now, they appeared yesterday but clearly was missing now so the happiness he needed was amiss.

The sounds halted, everything went still, his friends came close to him whispering about how to make sure to act as sane as possible to be let out. Chains scratched against the wooden door, clanking against the ground as they were let loose. Light flooded the slightly padded box, causing his tired eyes to squint and Allison to yelp out in pain at the sudden nature of the lighting.

"Knock it off you psychos! You almost scared Allison half to death!" He shouted out to the figure stood outside: probably not the best way to act sane in front of staff.

"Turn around with your arms in front of you, we need to restrain you temporarily until you are delivered to your cell." A female voice harshly spoke, her eyes dark pools of hatred as she grimaced at him, forcing him to turn around.

The moment Vincent turned to face towards the now shut carriage door his body jolted against the wood and chains as a rather muscular man roughly dragged him forwards by the elongated strands of his hair. A pained yelp escaped his lips but he was soon silenced as a dull brown mouth guard clicked down over is face, concealing his lips and his face up to his ashy white cheekbones. A sharp stabbing pain erupted from his lips as a thin seal of metal roughly got shoved in between his teeth as the mask clicked closed, preventing speech and movement. Without a moment of hesitation a dingy white, yet mostly eggshell yellow, straight-jacket was forcefully strapped against his thin torso and arms. No matter his struggle the jacket remained unbudging, the black straps tightening the more he attempted to thrash.

"Let me out of this now!" He screamed, a mere muffle of shrieks that pitifully echoed from his expressionless mask. "Knock it off! Let me go!" He thrashed and yelled to no avail, the only result was the metal tearing away at his gums and lips, causing a thick red liquid to drip down his neck from the bottom of the hellish mask.

With little to no struggle the third of the asylums 'greeting party' stepped in to intervene with Vincent's extremely futile struggling. The two guys silently grabbed him by his bound arms, gripping into the skin, ruthlessly letting their blunted nails rip into the skin at an angle. After all he did bruise and bleed easily so it was little surprise as blood seeped into the fabric of the jacket. With furious tears pouring down his usually calm face, he continued to scream kicking his legs in every direction possible with the restrains.

"'Earl' Vincent Blaese, age 19, undiagnosed severe conditions. This is you correct?" The blonde aged woman spoke calmly, a harsh tone in her voice. "Get patient '5912' into the the wheelchair, subject him to an hour of psychological evaluation, if deemed suitable he will be permanently in Ward 2 in joint cell 6. Alternatively shock therapy is required." And with those daunting words, she gave a hostess style smile and walked away; her face numbing into the same grimace everyone else wore.

The blue haired noble man kicked and screamed without effect as he felt himself being forced into a wheel chair, his ankles, wrists and neck shackled against it to prevent any sort of movement he could still achieve. Eventually he felt himself weaken, tiredness taking over, it was only when he glanced down that he noticed the now empty needle stuck out of his blue hand. Blood cut off by the shackles, unknown liquid flowing freely, breaking him slowly.

It felt like years, every second dragging into days, every minute a month. Vincent's body was numb of feeling, his head light, his mind weak. How long would he be trapped in hell?