whats on your mind? [open]

[Harper Gwendolyn Matthews]

Spinning and spinning. She ran beside the merry go round, waiting for it go faster and faster. When she felt the time was right, she jumped onto it, laying down. Her hair flew over the merry go round, nearly dragging across the ground as she spun. Her blue eyes glared up at the sun, thought within her mind.

She was tense. She was stressed. She hated it here, she really did. They made her eat, they made her sleep, they wouldn't let her drink. She couldn't kill, she could attempt to torture, but things wouldn't work out the way she wanted. She did still have her camera, something to pass the time.

She sniffled, her canon camera laying on her stomach, the strap wreathed around her neck. She slowly moved, camera in hand, the merry go round still spinning, but slowing down. She rested on her elbows, blindingly snapping photos as she spun. She'd leave them as a surprise, once she developed the film, she'd know what she captured.

Finally the merry go round finally stopped. She slowly go up, a bit unsteady on her feet. She laughed weakly, making her way over to the swing set. She sat down, her legs quickly seemed to cross over each other. Her thighs were too big for something made for a preteen. She sighed and slowly started to swing. Higher and higher she went! Slowly she grinned. She loved the feeling of flight. It made her feel the rare feeling of, well, freedom.

The blonde murderess jumped off the squeaking playground, giggling as she ran away from the swing set. Everything was so...creepy. It reminded her of her hide out in Virgina. A old abandoned shack. She moved over to sit on one of the rusting benches, sitting down with a high energy stare and an innocent smile.

[jacques capet]

Jacques had gotten out of the isolation room. Sure, he still couldn't get off the premises because of the electric barbed wire, but he had escaped from the isolation room. He had left his knife blade in the bottom of the door as they closed it. Fucking idiots. But they hadn't seen and he had gotten out. Story for the ages. He was sick of the isolation room.

He was sitting up in a treehouse, there seemed to be red stains on the chairs but that didn't phase him. He sat there in silence looking at his blade. He loved his blade, it was his favorite weapon of choice. Made the act of hurting one more personal, you know? He continued to stare silently at the knife.

Suddenly he heard something. Had they found him already? Well then, he would be putting up a fight tonight He hoped to at least cut one of them. He hated them all so much. Prison was better than this place.

He jumped down from the tree, his blade still in hand looking for the perpetrator who was going to take him back to that awful isolation room. The room with no light, no sound, nothing. The room of nothing.

He saw someone sitting on the bench and walked out to meet the staff member. He was ready to put up a fight. As he walked over to the person, however, he realized that she wasn't a staff member at all. She was a patient. Well he hadn't expected that. He just stood there in the dark staring back at her, his knife still in hand.