waves are washing me out

Over the Love - Florence + the Machine
 
Ugh, I literally love all clothes that evoke the chic, streamline 1950s/60s classy look. Wish I could wear frilly A-lines with pumps every day, hehe.
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
FRIDAY - Father Nick and Alexander will be holding confession. Choose your priest and confess your sins.
 
Comment to be included! Or PM to collab, maybe? :)

Sweet Life - Frank Ocean
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
MONDAY - With all the recent fun, the staff have managed to turn it sour. Dr. Kent is conducting re-evaluations and new prescriptions.
 
"Did you know about it?"
 
Alex stood in front of me as we waited outside the medical offices of Dr. Kent and Nurse Russo who were conducting their strongly loathed re-evaluations where everyone was re-diagnosed. Sometimes it was more favorable with mild anxiety or mild bipolar disorder. Or sometimes instead of panic disorder, he promoted you to borderline personality disorder or schizophrenia. I peered through the tinted glass windows, trying to get a better look at whoever was in there. I saw some shards of blonde hair, messy and matted. A nurse came over and shut the blinds.
 
"Elsa, are you listening? Please pay attention to me." Alex scolded.
 
I looked back at him, standing in front of me with his official robes and hair slicked back. He used to love to gel it and try to seem cool, like a Bostonian thug. Now he was slicked with sweat. He nervously shifted and paced around, an old habit that I'd last seen back in 1954 when he brought home a college girl.
 
"Yes, what is it?" I retorted, annoyed as per usual.
 
Alex's presence was an indescribable feeling of both spectrums of emotions. He was my kin, my blood. He left me, alone with Mom. He turned me in to an asylum as his way of making up for it. Right as I was about to leave for the apartment in Back Bay I got with my friend. I wanted to hug him and cry into his shoulder over all the evils I've seen, all the evils I've done. But I kept a cold composure, unable to shake off his betrayal. Loyalty was vital to any relationship, especially family.
 
"Did you know about the Bakery?" He asked again, staring hard at me.
 
I shook my head. "No, I was in the Commons all night then I went to my room."
 
He paused, analyzing my face. He and I both shared a great skill of studying people. He was better, however, since he had taught me to increase my street smarts.
 
"Liar. You knew, you probably planned it. I see you, Elizabeth, I do. You think I ignore you, but I notice. You walk around here like the heavens sent you, the queen of the corridor." He sneered. He only used /Elizabeth/ when he was actually angry.
 
I moved uncomfortably under the hawk gaze of Alex. I turned my head back to the shut windows, but through a sliver of the blinds I can clearly make out Felice.
 
"Fitting." I muttered to myself.
 
"You put everyone at risk. The patients, yourself, me, Miss Russo," Alex rattled off some names. All meant nothing to me, except for maybe myself.
 
"Sorry. I can't help you here, brother." I shrugged.
 
He rolled his eyes. "Felice hurt herself and it was under your watch. I know you do don't so well with responsibility but her health is on your head."
 
"I wasn't even-" I stopped short and listened to the faint cries that echoed in the hall. It was coming from the exam room. It sounded like 'Father Alexander'. It grew louder and louder.
 
"Felice?" Alex turned to door that stood only a few feet from him, eyebrows raised. "I need to-"
 
I nodded, cutting him off. "Go."
 
He races off, crossing the threshold carefully, like he's entering a crime scene. I saw him clutch his rosary in my pocket. Roel and Russo walked up to the room as well, right behind Alex. They all disappeared into the room. I strolled off, looking for trouble. I guess my re-evaluation would have to be delayed a bit. To the bitter disappoint of Catherine, I 'm sure, since she gave Kent a nice word of my growing concerns over my condition. I can't even imagine how annoying Kent will be when I get in for my turn.
 
Jack was around, talking to William Gallagher, Greggory's brother. He liked hanging out with other troublemakers. I laughed to myself.
 
"Hey," I chimed. I usually forgot that he was older, he acted so much younger.
 
"Elsa. You know, William, right?" He smirked at the sight of me.
 
"Of course. Every girl knows the nympho," I grinned, placing my hand on his shoulder. I giggled. "That kind of information travels fast."
 
William snorted, "Whatever. You're the priest's kid sister, right? Does that make you a naughty little snitch?"
 
My eyes widened, surprised by his wit. I laughed light-heartedly. "Naughty, yes. Snitch, no or else I'd be getting myself into trouble."
 
"D.amn, give you a guy and turn into a w.hore." Jack snickered, looking for support. William looked down, keeping a straight face. "A god d.amn flirt. Aren't you suppose to be extra holy?"
 
"What? Jack.." I trailed off, surprised by his tone. "I was talking."
 
"Bullsh.it," Jack went for my arm and clenched it in his grab, I let out a small yelp.
 
"Stop."
 
He let go of me and came straight into my face. "Don't go and show off when you know what you are. Especially in front of me."
 
"And what am I?" I asked.
 
"Mine." He laughed, cupping my chin in his hand. His hand left my face and ventured down back, pressing hard against my dress.
 
"Miss Hamilton, Doctor Kent is ready for you." Nurse Russo called out.
 
I tore away from Jack, disgusted and feeling weird. His laugh..it was just one big joke to him. I'd never seen him mad before. Only his wild side, the one that wants to kiss and drink and smoke and doesn't give a s.hit if anybody's watching. With a fun, fast life. Not /this/ person.
 
I don't belong to anyone.
 
x, E
 
Mentioned: @catknap & I hope it's okay that I used William for a bit, I just needed a guy @clairedear

Dolores Haze, Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
THURSDAY - Courtesy of a few resourceful boys, the Bakery has no supervision whatsoever. A few cases of beer will be available. Enjoy, relax, and hope it can last
 
The entire Bakery was transformed, replacing the juvenile intention with adults situations. A top of the tables meant for pounding dough and slicing sat a keg, with flowing taps and endless supply of glasses. In the corners, a few of the more seasoned boys started to pass out dope, striking a match with the kerosene stove adjacent to the big, ceramic oven. The atmosphere was tinged with yeast, but we could make the best of it. How the staff didn't notice an odd twenty people missing from their normal routines is beyond me. I just prayed to our Savior that it could be maintained for a little while.
 
I sat on a creaky chair, sipping on my beer, although I would have much rather preferred a classic Screwdriver or a Martini. I was more of a vodka girl, credit to the Soviets. I giggled to myself, swishing the liquid around in its container. I was surrounded with a variety of people ranging from Dylan to Edith. Dylan was becoming a regular in my circle, at least when she wasn't annoying Cherry Cherie. I knew she couldn't help it, but it hard to suppress my thoughts that ran rampant when irritated. I liked her, though. She was fun when inebriated, with her thirteen year old tolerance level. I was familiarized with the many escapes crafted by man, whether it'd be alcohol or a joint. I'd be introduced to them, my childhood love affair, by Alex actually. So ironic.
 
I grinned to myself, musing. Jack slid into the seat next me, hand on my thigh.
 
"So scandalous, Elsa. I'm surprised they let you out of your room." He joked, eyeing my ensemble.
 
"Just for you, Jack." I winked, wrinkling my nose as a light laugh escaped my lips. I could feel my presence diminish as I drank down on my booze.
 
"I like the sound of that." His fingertips traveled up my leg. My skin raised in goosebumps and I pushed his hand away. He'd have to try harder than that.
 
Edith shifted in my seat, awkwardly handling a cup filled to the brim. Poor girl, she was so timid. One of the people here whose diagnosis was probably accurate. She constantly flowed in and out of the medical offices and I'd taken a peak at her file before.
 
I tilted my head, pursing my lips in examination. Her eyes tried to match mine but quickly forfeited, retreating to the comfort of solace. She needed to loosen up and who was I to exclude. I got up from my cuddled seat with Jack, his touch lingering. He glanced at the fresh face and smirked.
 
I took the seat next to Edith, plopping a skinny cigarette into her hand. Right from my personal collection. I got out my lighter and lite myself up. I drew a puff and curled my arm around the back of her seat.
 
I gestured to her and gazed over at the collection that I'd acquired of other patients, mostly boys.
 
"This is Edith." I smoothly flicked the end of my cig. I gulped down some beer and look back at her. Edith's face grew bright and she placed the stick between her full lips.
 
Maria tossed over her red lighter. My favorite color. I caught it and helped little E get her very first smoke. She smiled widely and coughed, like all the newborn rebels. I laughed along with the group.
 
"Don't worry, it gets better." I told her with a gleam in my eyes.
 
I get up again and walked over to Dylan, who sat with a lingering eye for the delicious Gallagher boy, I couldn't remember which one. I knew one was a nympho, always promising and comical. I perched myself on Dyl's lap, arm around her. I guess she was the closest thing I could call a friend. And I was a little intoxicated.
 
"If only Catherine could see us now. Maybe we'd be dosed like Nyasha and Maria." I giggled. Dylan smiled back and I gave her the last puff of my cigarette. I stomped on it with my heel.
 
"Just look at her. She's so.." Dylan nodded over to Felice. She was toying around the kitchen supplies, her lips moving but not audible enough for us to hear it.
 
"I know, freaky. Kent gave her shock." I recalled, staring at the poor soul.
 
"Oh." Dylan grew quiet.
 
The subject pulled us both out of our ethereal fun and everything paused. Shock was a serious treatment. I'd received the lightest charge my first year at Sacred and didn't sleep for months, let alone speak coherently. Alex told me a while ago that he finally asked Father Nick to stop condoning all the special treatment plans by Kent. Nurse Russo was defenseless as well, for fear of the loss of her position. I guess Alex was mistaken.
 
Suddenly, Felice shouted loudly and gasped, almost as if it were for her last breath. I stumbled up, off my feet and rushed over to her side, sensing danger and urgency. Felice was not sane or my favorite, but I still had a pull to her. I couldn't completely shut her out. I'd never seen Alex take such intervention in one patient before and there must have been a reason.
 
I furrowed my dark brows at the sight of her. She now is clearly shrieking out Dylan's name with a hatred. Yet she also grew quiet at times, almost like a child. I saw crimson on her wrist and and grabbed her, holding her down.
 
"Oh sh.it," I muttered.
 
She kept talking, eyes flickering open and closed. I feared she might go into a seizure, or something. I called over anybody, asking for help, still trying to avoid a panic that would upset our party.
 
A boy crouched down next to me, pressing a napkin against Felice's wound. His blue eyes found the weapon of choice, a small knife, probably misplaced by the guards when they cleaned up after this morning's baking.
 
I threw it away from her. "Can you get her to the offices? Try to get Russo, she'd be calm."
 
He nodded solemnly.
 
"Get her to Alex, Father Alex, as well." I instructed, eyes locked on the boy.
 
"Why him?"
 
"He's my brother." I said quietly.
 
"I'm Knight, Michael Knight." He replied.
 
"Nice to meet you. Can you hurry please?" I asked, brushing off Felice, who was barely awake.
 
"Yeah," He slumped Felice against his shoulder and hurried off, a couple others rushing with him to see the commotion.
 
"Well fu.ck, Felice kept muttering your name as she passed out...maybe she is trying to kill you." I said to Dylan, walking up. I picked up another beer.

Dylan looked at Felice, "I am not dying without escaping this hell hole first!"

"Agreed" I meekly smiled, raising my glass.
 
I downed it and found my way into Jack's drunken embrace. He kissed down my spine, giving me shivers but I couldn't help but think of Knight. And Felice, and even Alex.
 
x, E
 
Included: @clairedear @fiendishthingy @catknap
Mentioned: @deidra-le-reve

Over the Love - Florence + the Machine
 
Elizabeth "Elsa" Hamilton, 20
Dream Anxiety Disorder
Boston, Massachusetts
With a distinguished surname, Elsa causes a frenzy of hushed gossip, as the patients interact among Father Alexander's crazy little sister. She doesn't receive much special treatment however and being a frequent rebel, her screams echo through the hall at the sound of Sister Catherine's favorite cane. Elsa joined the asylum at age eighteen, under the pressure of Alex on Father Nick, to honorably save his sister from their abusive, alcoholic mother. Their father passed years ago and ever since a dark shadow has been cast upon the Hamiltons. Alex moved out to be a priest and left Elsa all alone, sneaking out everyday for a new escape. Elsa gained admittance and became a leading force of the sane, aware of the Estate's wrongs. She's quite an analyst and does not trust a soul, not even her own blood. She's always getting into trouble with her mouth and brilliant schemes that range from seduction to blackmail. She's desperate to escape, but could her mind be giving? Her diagnosis was based solely off of Alex's report indicating her occasional insomnia but lately Elsa's been having real night terrors and now there's no safety in her own mind.
Cara Delevingne
@ocean-blue-xo

Young & Beautiful - Lana Del Rey
Obsessed, so beautiful x
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
TUESDAY - Dr. Kent and Nurse Russo are conducting checkups on each patient through the form of group therapy. All girls will meet in the medical offices and are free to express their feelings.
 
The large mahogany doors of the cabinet swung open, hitting the adjacent walls with a thud. Lined inside was the collection of tall canes, ranging in composition and handles. One was a silver, metal cane with a gripped handle, probably the most dangerous. A knot formed din my weak stomach. Another was shorter with a wooden staff. I prayed for the nun to pick up that one, but instead watched in horror as she analyzed the selection.
 
Sister Catherine teased with the grouping of wooden ones, as she usually does, then placed a finger on the metal.
 
"You are in my office once again, Miss Hamilton." She chuckled darkly. "It seems to be a new home for you."
 
I held my spine straight, eyeing her desk contained in her hard little chair. It had no personal touches, just a calender and a worn Bible with annotations. I didn't even remember what I was called down for.
 
"You're hilarious, Catherine. Shame that you left the performing industry, you could have made some cash." I snorted, looking her in her cold, reptilian eyes. "Or are all your shows now private? For Father Nick?"
 
"Enough." She screamed blankly. Fury grew on her face, bringing out her true appearance. "Stand up."
 
"No."
 
She grabbed my wrist, pulling me to my feet. Her hand guided my body down, across her desk with one forceful blow. I writhed for a while, unable to get up. Catherine lifted up my skirt, exposing my bare bottom and raised the favored cane.
 
"Pronounce your sin to God and ask for the Lord's forgiveness."
 
"What sin? Sister, I am blanking. I can not remember." I began to panic, fear cracking into my voice.
 
The cane came down hard on me, sending an stinging sensation down my legs and through my abdomen. I cried out, wailing at the torture. The pain lingered in what seemed like never-ending agony. I couldn't remember this much pain from a spanking.
 
"Perhaps Father will have a better arm." Sister Catherine snickered.
 
I looked over my shoulder and saw Alex standing there, cane in hand. He walked toward me, mouth agape, like a savage with a machete. My eyes widened, stinging with tears.
 
"Alex, stop! Please!"
 
Endless hits. Endless pain. Each strike brought on a new level. I cried violently, shrieking.
 
My eyes opened to the ceiling of my room, shared with Maria. I let my breath catch up to me and let out a sigh. I sat up, feeling my surroundings for a sense of reality.
 
Another nightmare. This time so realistic.
 
I hopped out of my bed, still shaky. It was /just/ a dream. It was't real, just a fantasy. I stripped down to my underwear to change into a blouse and skirt.
 
"Elsa, are you alright? What happened?" Maria asked from her bed.
 
I glanced back at her and she added "Your..your, well, a.ss. It's all black and blue."
 
"What? That's impossible." I ran to my hidden cosmetics and fished out a hand mirror. I held it across form my bottom. Three large bruises covered it, in a curled shape. Like the shape of a ca-
 
"You okay?" Maria rushed to my side. "Seriously. Want a nurse?"
 
I gulped and very calmly answered, "No. It's nothing. Absolutely nothing."
 
-
 
In the new installation of group therapy, Corinne had us seated in a circle, idly sitting down at the head. Catherine faced the other side, but had abruptly left to perform some task down in the Dining Hall. I peered at her and winced every time she made eye contact. Most of the girls were quiet, careful not to overstate anything. All girls have secrets. I included myself.
 
Sabrina teetered on the edge of her chair. She run her fingers through her pink hair.
 
"Did you want to say anything?" Corinne asked pleasantly.
 
"Um, no. Or, well, maybe. I just feel uncomfortable. All the time." She got out, with pauses in between.
 
"That's normal for your condition. Do not worry, we are all understanding, right girls?" Corinne cheerily looked among us.
 
I nodded. "Of course. We're good Christian women."
 
Corinne laughed and Sabrina meekly smiled.
 
"Me too." Nyasha added. I stared at her, wondering on why she decided to speak up. She was definitely the most conservative and didn't exactly have a lot of friends here. Maybe Raina. I saw them talk at the Gender conference. "I feel uncomfortable being here. I don't belong."
 
"Of course you do. We are all God's children."
 
Next to me was Felice, who looked fairly shaken, taking into account the normal appearance of anyone here. She definitely had some treatment. She returned my gaze and defensively turned away. Her eyes seemed to wonder around the room, with a lost sense of life.
 
"What'd they do to you?" I whispered, leaning over. "Get the crazy out?"
 
"I'm not crazy." She snapped quickly. In my eyes, this was not correct. I valued sanity the most out of anything, especially at Sacred. She was no saner than the regular who sits next to the record player, popping white pills. I also having been seeing Alex take more and more intervention in her case. And I didn't like that. I couldn't understand why, however.
 
But looking at her scared green eyes, I felt pity. She was new, after all. The hardest transition of my life.
 
"What'd they do?" I repeated.
 
"Miss Russo got the rubber block. They turned up the normal voltage." She spoke with difficulty.
 
Shock therapy. "I'm sorry, Felice. You won't feel normal for a few weeks. Maybe months. It depends. You'll feel lost and no morphine will take the pain away."
 
"How-"
 
"A couple years ago, I was new too. I know." I managed a smile, but still unsure of the advice. She probably couldn't even comprehend long speeches.
 
"Father Alexander was nice to me. I thought." She murmured.
 
I tensed up, sitting back in my seat, eyes darted forward as Raina was speaking on her conflicts with her parents. I couldn't bare to hear Felice say his name. I knew he was popular, but her inflection hinted at something that I couldn't face. Not yet.
 
x, E
 
Sorry for the bad story.
 
@deidra-le-reve @bonjour-jordan @catknap @n-efelibata
 
Tell me if I portrayed anyone incorrectly

Kill Kill - Lana Del Rey
 
Sorry for my absence! I had my first job and a bunch of homework, ugh :( No more spring break. Anyway, events will be updated shortly!
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
WEDNESDAY: To kick off a fresh start, Father Nick is hosting a jubilee, reminiscent of a grade school dance. For the first time, the Commons' record player will be updated so all can enjoy themselves.
 
"You look like you're headed to a funeral" Edith, the quiet blonde, muses as we stand outside Dr. Kent's office. She'd been in previously for a long while and was finally leaving with a dazed look on her face.
 
"Fitting, isn't it?" I smiled to myself. I suppose I really never do adjust to the social formalities that suit the general population, a direct quote from the psychoanalysis Dr. Kent had performed on me when I first arrived at Sacred.
 
"I guess in an ironic way. It /is/ a party after all, right?" Questions clouded her eyes and hanged on her face. "I wasn't misinformed, was I?"
 
"No, Edith. You're correct, it's a small jubilee as Father Nicholas likes to style it." I rolled my eyes.
 
I was confused on why exactly the priests and nuns had come to the conclusion to have a party for the deranged patients, most of which probably couldn't even remember how to dance. With it coming so soon after the press I figured it was to keep up with appearances. To rejuvenate the tired subjects of Sacred and provide them will deserved self-indulgence. I snorted to myself, lost in the sea of thoughts at how extravagant that sounded. Everything was a facade, everything was a lie and this was no different.
 
"What do you think they'll have us do?" Edith asked, breaking my focus.
 
Exhaling, I replied, "I don't think they'll make us do anything. It might be nice. You can dance and talk, but Catherine, Corinne, and probably Alex too will be watching."
 
"That makes it sound uncomfortable" She murmured, mostly to herself.
 
"Comfort is a luxury, a relative of sin." I mocked cynically under my breath. Edith appeared to be slightly disturbed by the break from the normal schedule.
 
"Well, I'll see you there, Elsa." She nodded and added after a pause, "Goodbye."
 
Sister Catherine appeared at the door of Kent's office, shuffling papers into a folder with the printed label Holly, Edith. She looked up at me and I held her stare. She had called me down, saying Kent wanted to speak with me. I was afraid she had told of my progressive nightmares, like Monday's. On Tuesday I had cornered Russo and Roel, forcing a promise to keep it a low concern. However, Catherine was untouchable in regards to threatening or promises.
 
"Dr. Kent is ready for you, Elizabeth." Catherine said bluntly and held the door ajar.
 
"Thank you." I coldly returned the favor, bumping into her hip "by accident". Her rosemary fell from her robes and she glared at me then retrieved it. "Sorry."
 
I entered the square, tight room with Dr. Kent studying my open file. I took a seat on the worn green chair next to his desk, instead of the cold, metal exam table.
 
"Hello, this is be quick. I know, Elsa, about what happened." Dr. Kent pushed down his reading glasses.
 
A sharp inhale entered my lungs. My lip trembled and I tried to restrain myself. "What?"
 
"About your proactive talk with Catherine, on possibly reevaluated your medications. It's quite a mature step, I rarely see it. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that another analysis and physical will be conducted next week. Is that alright?" He scribbled something on his calender.
 
Catherine. That potent b.itch. What a sly way to get my dose up and my sanity down. I was fine, I really was.
 
"Yes, that's alright."
 
-
 
The music flooded the Commons, blaring high against the creaky walls. The vibrations were felt throughout the whole crowd. The crazies loved it and sat in an isolated corner. Some rocked themselves back and forth, unable to cope with the sudden change. Some sat, keeping to themselves. A few lingered at the drinks station - a healthy concoction of water and fruit flavoring of course. A jive dance was being performed by a skilled couple and to the disdain of Catherine, the nuns didn't intervene. The room remained divided mostly between the girls and boys.
 
I had found company in Dylan, who was dressed nicely and more adventurous than usual. There was no prudish Cherry Cherie in sight as she downed a fruit punch filled with gin. The wonderful Jack Duncan had supplied me with two flasks. One was in my purse and another was stuffed in an incision in my mattress. He had the best connections around, though I had a feeling it was from Father Nick's secret stash hidden behind a stack of leather bound Bibles.
 
Dylan occupied herself with the handsome Greggory and was introduced to his brother, William. I couldn't help but stare on, grinning at my accomplishment. Two cups later and Dylan was a perfect partner in crime. It was strong gin and she was already wasted, with a low tolerance.
 
After three cups were coursing through my veins, I could feel my state of mind let go as well. Somehow I found myself with Jack. He was stunningly attractive with suave blonde hair and experienced blue eyes, like he'd really known the world. He was an explosive personality but I enjoyed his raw emotions. No drugs could pacify him.
 
"Thank you for your services tonight." I giggled in his ear like I was sixteen again.
 
"I'm happy you liked it. It's the best around." He smirked. He was older than me, almost by a decade. I was at the turning point of adulthood and he was eight years deeper than me. He reminded me of my mother's physician, who I had my first kiss with. I was 14 and he was 30.
 
I let Jack grab him and spin me around. I tried my best to keep up with the beat, but eventually collapsed into his chest, dizzy. I looked up to him and his eyes darted to the door, suggesting without a word a potential evening in the empty Bakery. It was the best place to bring a boy or girl. I'd known Jack since I was admitted but to my surprise, nothing had ever happened besides a couple opportunistic kisses.
 
"The Bakery?" I inferred, raising a trimmed brow. He flashed a smile and nodded, staring at my lips. We both needed a distraction, just for the night.
 
But soon the distraction was fizzled.
 
Alex's hands came down on my shoulders, pulling me away from Jack. He stood in front of me, sizing up Jack. His anger was written all over his face, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Jack was stunned.
 
"What's wrong, Father? Is fun now outlawed?" Jack joked, snickering.
 
"May I remind you of your surroundings and the intention of this evening? Keep a distance, please." Alex spoke through clenched teeth. His grip tightened on me.
 
I felt so miserable in the moment that a small tear formed in my eye. There was no escape from this reality.
 
x, E
 
Included: @clairedear @fiendishthingy

Trash - Lana Del Rey
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD
 
MONDAY: The good Cardinal Robert of the state of New York has decided to pay a visit to his beloved sanitarium. An annual press junction will be hosted at Sacred Cross with reporters and photographers. Plaster on a smile and remember, leave the talking to the staff.
 
A form came into my field of vision, as a tall, blurry man who I was unable to distinguish as a recognizable person or just a random man. He came closer to me, his sandy blonde hair curled around his ears. He had on a wool sweater and lounging pants, an argyle print covering his stomach. His scruffy upper lip twisted into a broad grin, beaming with a familiar joy. He stopped midway, arms extended out.
 
I hit the ground running, my hair bow bobbing up and down and my skirt flaring widly. I screamed at the full capacity of my lungs, until it became difficult to sustain. “Daddy!”
 
He crouched down to the ground, brushing his hair back. “Sweetheart, how is my Elsa?”
 
His arms swept me up, airborne above the manicured green below. I closed my eyes tight and breathed in the smell of his musk mixed with his peppermint aftershave and a distinct element of honey from his late night teas. Daddy was born in Britain, but left for America after the first war and met Mother, who went to the same high school. They were high school loves and married out of graduation, probably because of Alexander’s conception, a fun fact I constantly chuckle at.
 
“I miss you, Dad.” I whispered, trying to restrain the hot tears that plagued my eyes. My whole felt a vibration of coldness, as my body prepared for a catharsis. My feet hit the floor and Dad set me down. “Why don’t you come home?”
 
“I can’t. I made a promise to the country,” He replied, petting the top of my head.
 
Water welled up in my eyes and I felt a new sensation of physical agony running through my veins. Every region of my body felt a stinging jab. I moaned out. My system was hot, on fire almost. I fell to my knees, pawing at the earth, pieces of ripped turf in my grips. I hollered for relief from the pain, but Dad stayed stoic.
 
A red stain began to form on his argyle print, at first small then rapidly growing until it almost covered his whole stomach. A loud bang fired and the area was engulfed in smoke.
 
I writhed on the ground, coughing heavily. “Dad? Where are you?”
 
The fog thickened, I couldn’t make out where I was anymore. I turned my head, clutching my side. All I could see was thick, gray smoke. A burst of sharp pain hit my head and I slammed down on the ground, grasping my temples. I rolled on the ground, surrounded by the mysterious gray. Everything was sprinning. I kept trying to find Dad. Another cough, but this time blood spewed up my throat onto my clean hands. I screamed.
 
“Elsa. Elsa, wake up. It’s Nurse Russo. You’re in your room, you’re alright.”
 
My eyes opened, taking in the solid walls and creaky bed that I lied on. I lifted my hand up to the dim light above me. A trail of dried crimson blood streaked down to my elbow. I touched my face, instantly covered in fresh blood. Nurse Russo grabbed my nostrils with sanitized cotton. Horrified, I evaded her touch. Was it real? Was the blood from the attack in the smoke? It had crossed the boundary of reality and fantasy so closely.
 
“You have a bloody nose.” She tried to explain.
I smacked her hand away, tears rolling down my cheeks. I shrieked at her, “Get away from me!”
I tensed up, bringing my knees up and ripping out the IV I was hooked in to. Another nurse tried to reapply it and attach it to a clear bag, presumably full of weird narcotics. I threw my pillow at them, standing up with my back against the wall.
 
“Call the guards,” Russo ordered to her assistants.
 
Within minutes a line of white shirts stormed in my room, with Roel leading the pack.
I struggled at their grip, but eventually Roel overpowered me and forced me to lie down on my cot. Russo reattached the IV and hooked up the clear bag. I squirmed, but it was to no avail. I felt a rush come over my body and lost all will over my muscles. They stayed relaxed and I couldn’t find the right words to yell.
 
“What’s wrong with her? I’ve never seen her like this before.” Roel asked Russo.
 
“She had a night terror. She was yelling so loudly, but I couldn’t make any speech out. I think her condition is worsening, but I gave her a mild sedative. She should regain full motion within an hour.” Russo told Roel, trying to keep her voice low, but I still had my hearing.
 
“You need to get her dressed. Reporters from the paper arrive in two hours and they’ve specifically named her for a photograph because of her relation to Father Alex. She’ll need to be prepared.” He grabbed my grin, smiling in a sad manner. “Poor girl.”
-
I held my back straight, sitting at the edge of my bed, legs crossed, staring at my kitten heels. Sister Catherine had came by to check on me, mostly to reassure the rest of the staff, especially Dr. Kent that I was fit for examination by the wonderful press. And that I wouldn’t shove any more nurses. Catherine told me explicitly that I was to wait for Alex to escort me down the Grounds, for a picture in front of the asylum with him and Father Nick. She threatened to inform him of my bad conduct if I tried anything rebellious and “counterproductive” as she put it. For now my psychosis was an oddity even I couldn’t fathom and only Russo, Roel, and Catherine knew. It could have excluded Catherine’s involvement, but she nosed her way into it to defend the calamity of her corridor.
 
“Are you ready?” Alex asked, as he appeared at my threshold, looking absolutely autocratic in his black robes.
 
I smooth out my pin curls and nodded, rising to his side. He clutched my arm and led me down the hall, outside to the other gathered patients and slew of journalists. Every year they had an update on the fantastic role of the New York Catholic sanitarium with a picture of Cardinal Robert’s aged face.
 
I posed with Alex, eyes transfixed on the dark lens and mouth tense, refusing to smile as I was told to. It was quick, painless yet I departed from Alex with a sorrow cast over me. The reporters would never have a full story, only a painfully censored idea of Sacred Cross. I sighed heavily and spotted a slim blonde with high cheekbones holding a pack of fresh cigarettes.
 
“Can you spare one?” I asked her. She stared with hostile blue eyes and passed a cig my way. “Thank you. It’s Nyasha, right?”
 
She nodded yes. “You’re the priest-“
 
“Little sister, yes, yes, the rumors are valid.” I rolled my eyes, popping it in my mouth. She cupped her hand over the butt and lite me up with her rusty silver lighter. I angled my back to the nuns who were preoccupied in fixing everyone to be presentable. “What’d they want you for?”
 
“A collective photo with the sisters and other girls.” She spoke shyly, exhaling a stream of gray. She was cold as h.ell.
 
“Right,” My eye turned to the direction, but I coughed suddenly, catching my breath with a wave of panic racing over me.
 
“Okay?” Nyasha asked.
 
“Fine.” I muttered. “It’s nothing.” It seemed it could never escape this morning. I wished I could forget.
 
Nyasha shrugged. I looked back to the crowd and spotted the group of clustered girls, notably the crazy with two people inside her and the Russian Raina, who was always under the close watch of the guard, probably in case she tried anything. Other groups had formed as the guards took patients back inside to the Commons to sit and be observed. Only a select few were chosen for pictures, mostly the sane.
 
I walked over, leaving Nyasha to her quiet thoughts. “Hey Raina and Dylan, I presume” as I stared at her outfit of ruffled black.
 
“Yeah, you presume right. You missed Cherry if that’s who you were looking for. I think they took her inside.” Dylan babbled.
 
“Oh, that’s alright. I’m never looking for anyone in particular. Anyway, Raina, I’m wondering if you caught the name of the paper. Alex likes to keep secrets from me. He’s scared I might use them to cause some terrible action.” I stared at her narrow blue eyes and straight brown hair. She solemnly looked down.
 
“The Gazette, I heard Corinne say. She always speaks too freely.” She answered. She seemed like an observant type of person. I’d never fully ally myself with another, since personal interests always override any goal, but I did like Raina as an informant type of person. A reliable one.
 
“Thanks.”
 
“What are you going to do with that?” She questioned. “I’m curious.”
 
“No purpose in the short term, but when anyone gets out they know who to run to.” I grinned. “What an article that would make.”
 
Both girls formed dim smiles as the white troops marched over and grabbed our wrists to place us back in our brick cage.
 
x, E
 
INCLUDED: @deidra-le-reve @clairedear @n-efelibata
 
Sorry for the bad story :( If anyone wants to collab for Wednesday, let me know!

Radioactive - Imagine Dragons
 
Elsa Hamilton // HD Intro
 
Elizabeth "Elsa" Hamilton, 20
Dream Anxiety Disorder
Boston, Massachusetts
With a distinguished surname, Elsa causes a frenzy of hushed gossip, as the patients interact among Father Alexander's crazy little sister. She doesn't receive much special treatment however and being a frequent rebel, her screams echo through the hall at the sound of Sister Catherine's favorite cane. Elsa joined the asylum at age eighteen, under the pressure of Alex on Father Nick, to honorably save his sister from their abusive, alcoholic mother. Their father passed years ago and ever since a dark shadow has been cast upon the Hamiltons. Alex moved out to be a priest and left Elsa all alone, sneaking out everyday for a new escape. Elsa gained admittance and became a leading force of the sane, aware of the Estate's wrongs. She's quite an analyst and does not trust a soul, not even her own blood. She's always getting into trouble with her mouth and brilliant schemes that range from seduction to blackmail. She's desperate to escape, but could her mind be giving? Her diagnosis was based solely off of Alex's report indicating her occasional insomnia but lately Elsa's been having real night terrors and now there's no safety in her own mind.
Cara Delevingne
@ocean-blue-xo
 
They say the best way to survive around here is to keep your head down. I don't agree. It's through the connections you make. I'm Elsa.
x, E

Carmen - Lana Del Rey
 
Mega throwback to my old layout, one of the many. I've had like 5 or 6 by now, omg, I'm so fickle and weird. I like this one though. I loove light pink :)
 
Probably should be studying or doing my Geometry homework, it's my hardest class by far. But I'm really losing all will to put in effort to my classes, except AP Euro History since the test is only a month away! Hehe, livin for sprang break. Even though I'm going to be working that week, lol.
 
P.S. IF YOU LOVE AMERICAN HORROR STORY THEN JOIN ~
http://www.polyvore.com/hidden_demons_hd/group.show?id=158856
 
Auditions are ongoing :))
 
xo, Hel

I Love It - Icona Pop
 
Love Taylor Marie Hill, she's so stunning.
 
Grunge-ish set, lolol.
 
If anyone has a good roleplay, let me know! I'm interested in joining another in addition to my own roleplay and I'm in the mood for browsing ;)
 
xo, Helen