Lawrence-Fischer Mental Health Facility - Ward B (esielle&Crusade)

[esielle]

From the moment Goldie Ocasio was about eight or nine years old, her parents knew that there was something a little different about her compared to other kids her age. It wasn't that she was this odd girl-creature that had the inability to socialize, the inability to be a bright student, or the inability to grow up into a happy, healthy young woman. Quite the contrary! Growing up as a child, well into her teen years, and as she began to reach the point of gradually becoming an adult - and some would say she hadn't reached that even though she was 18 years old - she had more than enough friends. Though, to be fair, her relationships were often rocky and unstable, but somehow she managed not to drive everyone away because she did have a sweetness to her, did realize that most of the discord was produced herself. She was an okay student and that came from showing great boredom in school down to skipping classes and finding herself running with the wrong crowd. Not a crowd of criminals, mind you, but a crowd of like-minded individuals that believed school was a waste of time, so why go? No matter how many times she was called in to the Guidance Counselor and told she was such a bright young woman that, "If only you just applied yourself, you could have your choice of careers" and no matter how many Parent-Teacher or Parent-Teacher-Principal meetings were held on her behalf, she simply refused to be anything more than average to below average. It was frustrating for her parents to see their daughter continually make the wrong choices. They tried everything from grounding her, taking away phone privileges, sending her to work two summers at Habitat for Humanity, and even threatened, in heated arguments, to send her away. Where they intended to send her? She didn't know because it never happened. It was just a threat to try and scare her. It was the last part of the "inabilities" that she actually seemed to show an inability; the part where she'd grow up to be happy and healthy.

They noticed the big changes occurred in Goldie when she was about fourteen years old. For a span of three to four days, she would be happy as can be, active, motivated, and very creative. It was during one of those spans that she decided that maybe her parents were right, maybe she did need to start making a few decisions - good decisions, that is - and maybe she could be doing better at just about everything. It was during those spans where she made the plans to go to college and study Fashion Design, maybe move to New York City or travel to places like Italy and Paris to learn about the trends in Fashion, the way things worked in different places, and get a chance to focus on something she loved to do. But those spans of time were always quickly met by longer spans of time where she closed herself up in her room whenever she could, refused to return calls to friends, and blamed the world for everything she could along with blaming it for everything she knew she reasonably couldn't but did anyway because it made sense to her. There was always a transition period between those spans where things might be okay, might be quiet. Then something would happen - whatever the trigger was - and she would freak out so badly that twice her mother was on the verge of calling the cops and she had, at least four times, chosen to take her rage out by throwing things at both of her parents until she felt calm enough to sit and apologize profusely which always ended with her being grounded for the next month or two. Which was fine with her, of course, because by that time she wanted to be locked away in her room anyway. Her first suicide attempt was at 16 years of age. She took whatever pills she could find in the medicine cabinet, lost consciousness, but her mother came home from work very shortly after and she woke up in the hospital. She was Baker Acted, on suicide watch for the next three days before they were sure she wouldn't try it again.

And she didn't at least not until a little over a year later during a particularly bad bout of depression that left her a total mess. At that point, yes, she had been on medication, but she had started to feel better and decided, on her own, to stop taking it. No one noticed anything was amiss until they found her in her room with a pool of red around her (having slit her wrists). Again, she misjudged when anyone would be home and was carted off to the hospital where, again, they put her on suicide watch, reprimanded her for stopping her medication, and upped her therapy sessions from once to twice a week. Somehow or another she managed to get through high school and there were some who would say school actually helped her instead of hindered her progress. Oh sure, she was a pariah to some people because news traveled fast especially when the "weird chick, crazy girl" decided to try and off herself like she was in some twisted, bad rendition of the movie Heathers. That crowd that was supposedly so bad for her though? They helped a lot because they were a lot like her in many ways. Two of that crowd suffered from addiction (alcohol, ketamine, and cocaine), one suffered from severe depression, and another had been in therapy since he was six because of a bunch of bad things happening to him in a short span of time. Those guys, in a way, helped her cope. Somehow she passed all her classes and got enough credits to graduate. A year later? She was still trying to figure out what she wanted to do. Go to college was hardly an option since she doubted, with her record, anyone would take a chance on her. She did get a part time job bagging groceries at the local Albertson's, but she was miserable doing it. The medications she was on for Bipolar Disorder and Anxiety were keeping some things in check, but she felt like she was continually falling at top speed; with her arms flailing, her heart pounding, and any minute she'd crash into the ground.

That's how she became a resident of Lawrence-Fischer Mental Health Facility, Ward B. One night after work, she decided to take a blade to her wrists again only, this time, she was living with two other girls in an apartment that didn't exactly get to her as quickly as her mother had before. In fact, by the time they found her she looked quite pale and if they hadn't of called for an ambulance when they did she would have been pretty successful because she did an awfully good job at needing numerous stitches after that. When her parents were called, they made a decision on the way to the hospital that enough was enough. Something had to be done about Goldie or else she really was going to end up hurting herself. They tried not to blame themselves. Goldie had been treated great growing up, nothing bad had actually happened in her environment. She just had a disease that they couldn't fix and that was going to end up killing her if they couldn't come to a decision. It was as she was in the hospital that they contacted a lawyer to discuss what their options would be to get her help. His answer was to request court mandated Civil Commitment (inpatient) whereby a judge could look over the presented case and, if Goldie met the criteria, she'd be ordered to be admitted into the Mental Healthy Facility for long term treatment until she showed signs of progress, signs of being able to function in the outside world. Needless to say, when she found out her parents were going over her head on this, she had another outburst right there in the hospital where she ripped the IV from her arm and tried to leave. She fought the best that she could in court to show the judge that she was fine (as laughable as that was), but the case against her was really good and there was no way she was going to win. Somewhere deep down, Goldie knew that.

On the day in question, her parents drove her to the facility with her in the backseat sulking, awfully quiet the entire time. She wasn't allowed to bring anything with her save for eight days of clothes and, even then, everything would be inspected upon her arrival to be sure she hadn't hid anything to hurt herself or others as well as checked for appropriateness. In other words, they wanted to be sure this was a neutral environment, nothing of excitement to disturb or set off any instances. Upon her arrival, she got as far as the sidewalk in front of the place before she lashed out. She was extremely angry and the rage came out in full force. It was so unexpected that, somehow, she managed a right hook to a nurse's cheek, was able to get about fifty feet down the street before her father came from behind and grabbed her, and two orderlies had to come out and help hold her while the nurse she clocked in the head sedated her. Goldie very rarely did things the easy way, always managed to make things harder on herself. She was promptly brought to her room - private, as insisted and paid for by her parents - and allowed to sleep off the sedation and rage that had fueled her. Ward B was one of three Wards in the facility based on severity. Ward A is where the patients went when they were getting better, on their way home. Ward B is a cautionary wing of the building, an in-between where you'd meet a range of people with a range of diagnoses who were going to be spending some time there. Ward C was for cases of severity: severe schizophrenia not responding to treatment, those with a history of violence and criminal activity, etc. It was also a separate building behind the main facility for safety reasons, heavily guarded with a wide range of medical staff. A place, in other words, no one in Ward B was likely to go unless there really was little hope.

A few hours after The Great Sedation, Goldie issued a light groan into the air and turned over on the twin-sized bed so she could open her eyes a little and stare with blurry vision at the ceiling. She couldn't, at first, recall what had happened and didn't know where she was for a good five minutes as she laid there trying to focus her eyes, doing her best to even open them. With a turn of her head toward the window, she knew that it was dark outside, but it couldn't have been more than 9:00 pm give or take an hour. Right beneath the window sat her bag which had clearly been okay for her to keep. She was still in the pair of jeans and t-shirt she had put on that morning though her shoes had been taken off and those horrible slipper socks had been placed on her feet which, even half dazed, caused her to wrinkle her nose. The lights in the room were dim, but still harsh as she forced herself onto her side and looked toward the door. It was closed, but she wondered if it was locked. She imagined they would have to lock it for safety reasons, right? But what time? If there had been an orientation of some sort, she effectively missed that! Very slowly, and with her head swimming a little, she hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, pressing her hands onto the mattress and holding herself like that for some time before she trusted her legs to carry her. Goldie was an attractive girl with long, blonde hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkled with mischief. Her features were delicate, very appealing. She was a tiny thing, though! She stood at 5'5 and weighed about 117 pounds with soft, supple curves that could even be seen - accented quite well in the tightness of her jeans and the way her shirt hugged to her breasts - quite well under what she was wearing. First impression was that she was a little nymph plucked from the pages of some erotically charged story, a walking temptation with legs that seemed meant for wrapping and hips that seemed right for grasping.

Once she was at the door, she pulled on the handle and noted that it didn't give way. With a furrow of her brows, she leaned forward against it and pressed her cheek to the cold surface. In fact, it felt freezing in there, but that was usually the case in places like this! After a few moments of just leaning there and looking like she might slide down and sleep again - only this time on the ground - she suddenly raised a hand (bandaged at the wrist on both) and beat hard five or six time on the door with her palm, calling out soon after, "Hello? Hey! Please, somebody come to the door!" Her hands raised again and, in order to get the attention she wanted right now, she hit against the surface in a way that said she was not above disturbing everyone else until someone came to see her.

 

[Crusade]

Clayton Selvey had grown up privileged. His father was an oncologist at one of leading cancer centers in the entire country and his mother was a college professor. He attended private schools and lived in a gated community. School had never really been a priority even from his earliest days. Instead, Clay was more apt to keeping to himself, locking himself in his room for hours upon hours, playing video games, watching porn and jerking off.

Being an only child in a huge house with parents who worked all of the time had been like living alone for Clay. He could come and go as he pleased and just as long as he got passing grades, his parents were happy enough just knowing their only boy was "really applying himself". What a joke. Clay was convinced even if he hadn't shown up for class, his parents had such pull in the community that they could have pushed him through.

All his parents really had instilled in him was a sense of entitlement and a generally snarky attitude. Clay was considered a self-righteous asshole even at the private schools he attended which were already synonymous with being prone to those types. He scraped by, used what charm he did have to bed a few girls he went to school with and graduated in the lower twenty percent of his class.

College would've been the next step in the logical progression, but Clay told his parents he really needed to find his "true calling". It was another line of bullshit he fed his parents to afford himself the opportunity to do whatever the hell he wanted without fear of repercussions. It was during this soul-searching time when Clay really started to explore his more devious side. He went to college parties, fucked sorority girls and used his good looks to entice a number of girls into bed. He got off on being an authoritarian and exuding dominance and aggression were tactics he regularly employed.

When what was originally only supposed to be a year of finding himself turned into a multi-year endeavor, Clay's parents were finally pressed to take action. It was either get a job and prove to them that he could be responsible or they were going to make him move out and find his own way. It seemed like a pretty idle threat, but not wanting to take any chances, Clayton reluctantly agreed.

Because of his father's connections in the field, he managed to secure Clay a job as an orderly at Lawrence-Fischer Mental Health Facility. He knew of the place vaguely. He often drove by it without giving it a second thought, but it became his workplace. After a grueling orientation process that nearly bored him to tears, Clay was introduced to the other staff and given a proper tour of the facility. The place felt cold and sterile and surprisingly, Clay liked the feel.

Soon, Clay had weaseled his way back into his parents good graces and was actually gaining a good reputation around the facility for being a no-nonsense, dedicated orderly. He worked primarily in Ward B because of his inexperience. Only those with proper training and experience were allowed to work in Ward C. He did whatever was expected of him, but found particular pleasure in tormenting the residents and making them squirm. He just loved exuding what little power he did have. It helped that the patients were unstable and staff was always more willing to side with other staff rather than patients.

On more than one occasion, complaints had been filed by patients against Clay. A few of the females claimed he groped them and exposed them. Male patients said he was arrogant and condescending. All were true, but nothing was done. Clay had too much pull and no one really took the complaints seriously.

Things continued on that same trajectory for almost a year. He was working on getting a promotion to a supervisory position or something of the sort. And in all honesty, he loved his job.

When Clayton arrived at work that night, he could tell something was amiss. When he headed into the office to relieve Brielle, a relatively new orderly on staff, he was given the heads up on a new patient in the ward, one who had to be sedated and had been nothing but a headache since she arrived. Clay couldn't help but smirk as Brielle left and he thought about the possibilities. She was around his age and combative. Sounded right up his alley.

It wasn't long before his otherwise quiet shift was interrupted by the sound of banging on the door in one of the rooms. Ordinarily, behavior like that was relegated to Ward C, but this feisty newcomer apparently wasn't all that happy about finding her new home in the mental health facility.

"What's all the banging for?" Clayton called out, makinig his way from around the orderly station to head down the hallway towards the room. Clad in a pair of dark blue scrubs, Clayton was tall and lanky, standing at 6'3 with a slender, toned build, yet with broad shoulders. He was handsome, with unkempt dark brown hair and eyes like pools of crystal blue waters. Finally reaching the door, he pulled out a ring of keys he held at the ready and unlocked the door, finally introducing himself to the newest patient at the facility.

"You must be...Goldie," Clay said, closing the door behind him once he was in the room. He made sure to position his body in front of the door in case the patient wanted to make a run for it. Upon first inspection, it was clear Goldie was the best looking patient he'd ever seen at the facility. And that body! She was so small, he just wanted to throw her around. Cute, compact and with curves he couldn't wait to get his hands on. Goldie was going to get him in trouble. Well, she would get him in trouble if there were ever repercussions for his actions.

"Now, tell me what's going on? Why are you causing such a commotion? You know there are patients trying to rest and you're making it impossible for them right now. I don't appreciate you doing this, Miss Ocasio," Clay said, already imposing his will just in the way he spoke to her.

 

[esielle]

Was anyone even working that night? Surely one noisy patient was bound to cause someone to come running to quiet her down, right? In all actuality, she hadn't been pounding on the door for as long as she thought she was - which she thought she had been for a few long minutes - as it was just the effects of waking up groggily from sleep and coming out of the sedation that had her completely misjudging the passage of time. Not only that, waking up in a locked room of a mental health facility was about as jarring as things came! It was pretty frustrating to think she was there banging and in need of assistance, but no one was coming to her aid. Goldie furrowed her brows up tightly and turned her head into the door, closing the bright blue of her eyes and holding her breath to keep from breaking down into sobs. To her irrational mind, it was a great injustice being done to her, something that she didn't quite deserve but, again, that line of reasoning wasn't exactly her at her most logical. Somewhere she had to know that what her parents did was the right thing to do, right? Somewhere in that overwhelmed, frantic head of hers, she had to know! At that moment, though, that was the furthest things from her mind. Just as she was about to either bang on the door some more or simply slide down to the ground and break down crying (she didn't know which she preferred to do more), she heard someone calling out in response to the banging that had been going on. Her azure hued eyes popped open and she stepped back just a few inches from the door, both hands on the cool surface as she darted her gaze back and forth in relief. While she wasn't happy to be there, she was very relieved to hear someone's voice. Although she couldn't help but detected that maybe there was some annoyance in the tone. She guessed she had been a little too loud, maybe. Instead of raise her voice for him to hear on the other side, she bit softly down upon her light pink lip and shifted on her feet. Goldie had to quickly take stock of the situation. If she did anything that could be construed as disruptive or acting out in a way that excited the other patients, she already knew they wouldn't have wasted time in putting her ass out again. That was something she already decided she didn't want to happen; so, she took a deep breath in and out and, upon hearing the jingle of keys on the other side of the door, she quickly snatched her hands away and backed up a good distance from it to let whoever was going to enter, enter. She stopped not far from her bag at the window, shoving her hands in her pockets as she laid her gaze on the door and waited.

To have someone that looked the way that Clay did suddenly appear in the doorway and step into the room would have taken anyone aback! Goldie blinked a few times and the expression that immediately danced across her face was one that would have told him he was the last person she was expecting to come waltzing through the door. She expected some middle-aged man that had seen this, been there to come and quiet her down and answer all the questions she had to throw at him. Or, perhaps, she envisioned a nice, sweet nurse to tell her everything was going to be alright when, really, things were far from being alright. She was only human and couldn't help but notice that the man that ended up coming to her aid was very appealing to the eyes - tall, dark, and handsome with eyes that seemed to bore through her. It was hard not to get the initial staring done and over with and might have inspected him from head to foot - and not only because he was good looking, but such was her nature to assess people - just a little while longer if it hadn't of been the sound of his voice guiding her eyes quickly back up to his face. If she had stepped a bit closer to him, she would have had to tilt her head back just to see his face what with his height. There was something imposing about the way he closed the door behind him and placed himself in front of it, a clear sign that he didn't trust her as far as he could pick up a car and throw it. At the mention of her name, she closed her eyes as if she were trying to bring herself further from sleep and she nodded her head, those locks of hair moving around her face and brushing her cheeks with the force of it, "Yeah..." was all she could manage to say. Now that she had someone there with her, someone that made her feel small not only physically but in his very stance, she didn't know what to say. But she had to say something. She couldn't just stand there dumbly and hope that he knew what she wanted. Goldie was telling herself to snap out of it and focus, opening her eyes again to glance over his face. She decided he probably didn't actually mean to be as imposing and perhaps having the job he had simply came with the territory. As much as she hated to accept that he was just doing his job - considering she didn't want to be there - she had to if she was going to get any assistance.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he continued on. The relaxed stance of her features changed at the tone of his voice, going right back to feeling very small and insignificant. There was a small wrinkle to her nose and her hands came out from her pockets so she could cross them protectively across her breasts, shifting back and forth on her feet as she dropped her eyes down. "I...." his tone had totally taken her off guard and left her standing there a bit speechless, turning her head away so she could move her eyes rapidly over the bare wall. There was a very long moment of silence where she just changed her weight from one foot to the other, positioned her arms to hug the chill off of her, and tried to decide if she should just shut up and go back to sleep or continue her pursuit to get a little information out of him. She felt a very familiar tension in her stomach, the feeling of her skin almost crawling. It was the type of feeling extremely nervous people got before they had to give a speech - the constant worry they were going to screw up, the flight or fight response going into hyper drive. If she didn't get a hold of herself, she was going to have a bad night. Finally, she swallowed hard and brought her eyes back to him, looking very lost as she stood there, "I'm sorry I made so much noise, just didn't know how to get anyone's attention without pounding. I just got here today and there was...." she closed her eyes, needing to correct herself, "...I mean, I caused a little trouble and I didn't get to say goodbye to my mom and dad. I didn't get to eat anything either and I'm a little hungry. I know I probably can't use the phone so late to call anyone so I won't ask, but I have some change in my bag if there is a vending machine....I'd like a Pepsi...maybe some chips or a candy bar." Those were not things she normally liked to eat, but she would make due with them. Her eyes moved back and forth across his face, trying to judge his expression, "Please?" If there was a silence, she had to fill it especially to distract herself from the anxious feeling crawling over her, "Also....I.....Uh....I was supposed to meet with a Dr. Robinson when I arrived, but that never happened...obviously. Can you tell me if there is a Doctor here tonight? I can't remember if I took my medication before I came here." Now she quieted down, watching him. Before he said anything, though, she turned and grabbed her bag from the ground to flop it onto the bed heavily. Unzipping it, she began to rummage through to find her change, "I'm sorry.....I'm a little confused right now." And a whole lot anxious.

 

[Crusade]

Clayton had noted from the moment he entered her room the way she looked at him. He couldn't tell if it was because she liked what she saw or she just wasn't accustomed to seeing someone like him instead of the usual psychiatrist. Whatever the case was, her gaze was more welcoming than he'd anticipated. A lot of those in the ward was genuinely interested in getting better and he could tell Goldie was going to be one of them. Her worry about a doctor on duty and whether or not she took her medication proved that. He could really care less about her mental stability. She was by far the most attractive patient the ward had ever seen and he was going to employ whatever means necessary to get into those pants.

"Usually, this door will be unlocked, but because of the circumstances, they told me it'd be in my best interest to keep it locked. They have you on the flight list. All of the exit doors are locked, too but at least for tonight, you're not going to have access to the outside, which means no snacks. Just relax. The only doctor on duty at this time of night stays in Ward C. We're only supposed to have him over here if it's an emergency, and I'd hardly call this an emergency. Someone will be back in the morning to straighten out the meds and all that."

Clay nodded in the direction of her bed, to a red button on the wall beside it. "That's an emergency call button. Press that if you need anything instead of banging on the door like a fucking animal, alright?" he said, his tone changing as he looked the new patient up and down. He'd never actually fucked a patient, but he did coerce one woman who had came and went to suck his cock. It was all just a matter of taking what he wanted. He had the power in all of these scenarios. He could come and go as he pleased, it was the patients relegated to their rooms with their disorders and their bullshit problems.

"Do you think you can handle that?" he asked, stepping forward. He liked to flaunt his power from the very beginning, so instead of just walking away like any other orderly would have, he reached out and cupped one of her breasts as he pressed his body against her own. "This is my house, Goldie. You should learn that right now," he said, licking his lips, his other hand moving around her ass to pull her in against him, letting her feel the outline of his cock through his scrubs.

"My satisfaction is more important than your progress when my shift starts. Do you understand?"

 

[esielle]

A little flash of guilt went over her face when he mentioned how normally the door would have been unlocked but, for obvious reasons, it had been best that the door remain locked. Well, after slugging one of the nurses and trying to take off down the street even before she got into the building, did she actually expect that anyone would put their trust in her to stay put? Rubbing the soft pink color of her lips together, she heaved a sigh and pushed her bag across the bed with a mixture of frustration and agitation. She felt like a caged rat in there! Both of her hands came up so she could run her fingers through her hair, pushing her long locks of light blonde back from her face as she turned to face him. She was doing her best not to lash out at him, taking a deep breath into her lungs through her nose and slowly out through her mouth before she was able to lower her hands down to cross them beneath her breasts as she brought her crystal clear blue eyes back up to him. Calm, Goldie. She closed her eyes and ran her tongue over her lips before she suddenly laughed at him telling her to just relax. That was very easy for him to say, wasn't it? However, she nodded her head in understanding because it wasn't like she had a choice in the matter whether or not there was a doctor there in that ward. She could always demand, she supposed, to see someone anyway, but there was something about the way he stood there looking at her that almost dared her to make a request like that so he could deny it. So, she nodded her head in understanding and, lowering her arms down to hook her thumbs in her pockets, she shifted back and forth upon her sock clad feet with a little bow of her head to say that she was willing to drop the subject tonight and just go back to bed. Noticing his hand come up and point to something, she took a step to the side before turning to look at the button as he explained that pressing that was more acceptable than banging on the door like she had. Only he took a different, less polite route and called her a fucking animal which had her scowling and glaring at him, "Jesus....alright....I get it....sorry" there was an edge to her voice when those words came out, fiddling quite a bit at the pockets of her jeans. Rolling her eyes, she let loose another sigh and turned her head to look at the window. Goldie was trying to will him away.

As he asked if she thought she could handle that, she pressed her lips together because she got the impression that he wanted her to give an answer that didn't include her being snippy with him. One hand lifted again, this time rubbing her palm lightly against her cheek in a way of trying to calm herself so she could speak without that edge to her voice that she imagined was going to have him writing a report up on her to give to the doctor before she saw him. Great. Already she had multiple strikes against her and she hadn't even been here for 24 hours! When she lowered her hand, she started to nod and speak in a voice that was a lot more controlled than her last tone, "Yeah, I can and I'm...." She knew he had stepped forward, but she wasn't exactly expecting that one of his hands would come out and cup one of her breasts as if it were a perfectly natural thing for him to do. It effectively silenced her with her lips parted in shock, her eyes growing wide, and her hands coming up in a 'surrender' action which was mostly so she didn't touch him. Then the rest of him closed the distance, his body pressing to her own with her no where to go but to step back against the wall and further trap herself. Goldie furrowed her brows together and her eyes slid upward to look across his face when he spoke, closing them soon after as he reached back to squeeze the round of her ass encased in those jeans and pull her even closer where she could feel the warmth of his breath against her, smell the scent of his cologne, and feel the jutting length of his cock right against her hip. She darted her eyes away and there was a look of distress that went over her face, not sure if she wanted to scream out for someone or start to cry. Her fingers flexed and relaxed in mid-air as if she were trying to decide on something. It was when his last words came out that she finally cracked and started to throw her arms out at him with closed fists while, at the same time, she started to wiggle and push herself away so she could be away from him and not trapped nearly against the wall.

She didn't care if he backed away and she totally missed hitting him or if she hit him and that got him to move away, all she cared about was him moving away. Somehow she managed to get herself near the window, breathing heavily not only because of the sudden exertion but because of the rise of anxiety that was pulled from her in those moments. Her hands were still balled up when she rounded on him with disgust and hate in her gaze, "I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing, but you just stay the fuck away from me, okay? Don't touch me, don't talk to me, and you bet your ass that I'm going to tell the first person I see tomorrow about you." She moved back and forth on her feet again in a nervous fashion, slanting her eyes to the door as if she were wondering if she were fast enough to duck by him and get out into the hallway. After a second, her eyes moved back to him in deciding that her chances of getting by him weren't exactly good. Instead, she wet her lips and pointed a shaking hand toward the door, "You're a dick. Get the fuck out of here and enjoy your last night on the job, asshole." She certainly had a mouth on her when she was inclined to lash out! Which, lately, had seemed to be quite often. Goldie glared and waited for him to back out of the room, shifting her weight from foot to foot as clear indication that the thought of bolting was still there.

 

[Crusade]

Clayton couldn't help but smirk as Goldie decided to fight back. It was what he'd expected. After all, a patient who fought from the moment they were placed in the facility wasn't going to just lay down and take the punishment. It wasn't until they were slowly broken down and sometimes sedated to the point of numbness that they finally just gave up. Her threats were idle ones he'd heard before. Sure, she could tell every person she saw what a terrifying menace Clay was, but at the end of the day, she was the one on the other side of that door and everyone, as they always did, would attribute it to her illness. There were no tests administered. They weren't going to go hunting for Clayton's DNA or search her body for bruises or marks. It was a waste of time and he had connections. Those threats meant nothing to him.

When she swung her arms and attempted to free himself, Clay admittedly didn't put up much of a fight. He backed away, letting the pretty thing flail away at the air before distancing herself. When she was finally finished he merely laughed and shook his head. "Goldie, Goldie, Goldie. You're in my house now. Do you really think anyone is going to believe an unstable, crazy little fuckwit or will they believe me? Tell every last person you see what a horrible monster I am. They all have. And look where I am. Just know that the more people you tell, the worse off it's going to be dealing with me. You think this is bad? You have no idea. You'll be on your knees gagging on my cock. You'll be bent over that bed being spanked til your ass is fucking raw. I don't give a fuck about you or your story. In the end, you're just a pretty girl who fell into my lap. And I'm going to do my best to keep you around for as long as possible, because that rarely happens. You understand? There's no winning for you."

Clayton crossed his arms over his chest and remained by the door, the exit to the room. He wanted to see just the slightest sense of submission from Goldie. She would be a tough nut to crack, but it was that initial submission that almost always lowered the floodgate. Once she showed signs of defeat, she'd be all his.

 

[esielle]

After she was finished making sure there was a distance - but not enough of a distance, in her opinion - between them and after she had swore that she would tell whoever she saw the next day about what he just did and the things he said to to her with the intention of getting him fired, there was but a few moments in between her pointing at the door and telling him to get out and the way he released that soft, almost amused, laugh. Goldie didn't like the sound of it. There was a hint of menace in it, of mockery to her and everything she just said. Her azure blue eyes narrowed and there was a definite waver of her hand downward to point at the ground more than she was pointing at the door, furrowing her brows and shifting back and forth upon her slipper sock clad feet. Then came his words telling her that no one would believe her if she told them what happened. Why would they choose to believe her? Let's face it, she had given a nurse a black eye and tried to run even before she was inside of the building. To them, she belonged there even if she didn't want to fully admit it to herself that there was where she belonged and she would do whatever it took to get out of there even if that meant, perhaps, lying about one of their employees. Oh, she understood the implications of what he meant when he said no one would believe her which was why her hand started to fall down to her side and her eyes dropped to the floor. Her breathing was uneven as she listened to him detail how bad it could be if she did tell anyone, if she didn't cooperate with him. The image of her on her knees with her lips around his cock as he pushed his hips forward to force it down her throat and the vision of him cracking his hand against her ass until she couldn't sit right for days after made her close her eyes and hold her breath as she felt the sting of tears wanting to fall. "Don't cry," she told herself, "Just don't cry." But she was afraid and it was hard to stop the first of her tears from roll down her cheeks, opening her eyes to look at him as he stood blocking the door which dashed any hope of her darting passed him and into the hall. One hand came up to wipe at one cheek and then the other, sniffling softly as she nervously shifted again.

It was clear she had no comeback for his words. In fact, his words had struck her so hard that her hands had started to shake and the world around her seemed surreal. She took a few deep breaths in and out, crossing her arms beneath the soft swell of her breasts as she scanned her eyes over his face. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to say? Was she just supposed to stand there and let him touch her any way he wanted? Let him talk to her that way? That look upon his face was one that she took as him silently telling her to go ahead and challenge what he was saying to see if it wasn't true. He was confident that things would go down exactly the way he said they would. No one would believe her. He would make things harder for her. She even thought he meant it when he said he would do his best to have them keep her around as long as possible. Goldie didn't like the fact that he got to her just then, but he had. Swallowing hard, she blinked her eyes rapidly to clear them of any tears that wanted to fall. She needed to get a hold of herself and she needed to do so now. Her arms were still positioned under the swell of her breasts in a protective stance as she slowly moved around him and toward were her bag was laying, keeping a wide berth from him as she neared the edge of the bed and grabbed her bag to unzip it. It was very clear by her silence and the expression upon her face that he left her speechless, left her scrambling in her head for words that just wouldn't come because he had effectively taken them from her. Goldie had to tell herself not to argue with him, not to lash out at him as she wanted to do. With her hands still shaking, she started to remove her clothing from the bag with the intention of putting everything in the single dresser that she had been given, giving a sidelong glance to Clay with a soft scrunch of her brows, "Just stay the fuck away from me." Those words were said with a lot less conviction than she had spoken to him not more than a minute ago! In fact, there was a quake to her voice, a tinge of fear there.

With a few pairs of jeans hugged to her chest, she turned and went around him again - still keeping that large circle of distance - to open one of the middle drawers and slide them inside. She was very aware of him standing there, very aware of his position in relation to her own, and made sure to shift her gaze to him every once in awhile to make sure he was staying where he was. Goldie didn't like the way he watched her. He made her feel so very small, so very uncertain. Those eyes that darted across his face never connected with his eyes now and, when they came close, she darted them quickly away and positioned them downward with a look that seemed to state she was a moments away from breaking down. Steadying herself by taking a breath and gripping onto the drawer for a moment, she turned her head away from him, bowed her head, and turned to move back to the bed, "I'll go back to bed." She was speaking through teeth that were clenched together and she, now, refused to even turn her head to look at him at all, "I'm sorry I made all that noise." Relaxing her jaw enough to run her tongue over her light pink lips and to speak normally, she fished more clothing from her bag only to make the same wide circle around him to the dresser, "And I'm sorry I disturbed you from working." It was clear that she was trying not to think about the things he said to her and the way he'd touched her, pressed himself into her. She wanted to change the subject and try to forget about it in hopes that he, too, would forget. Goldie was pretty good at trying to alter situations to the way she wanted them and that's exactly what she was trying to do here. Finally, she had taken enough breaths in and out to bring her head around and glance at him, but just a glance before her eyes went submissively downward with a hint of glassy tears forming, "Please, go away now."

 

[Crusade]

Clayton wasn't accustomed to fighters. He hadn't seen the sort of fire he saw in Goldie in well...ever. He was actually a refreshing change of pace. He was used to getting patients when they were already drugged up to the point of numbness. Essentially, at times, the place seemed like a housing unit for zombies. He saw patients so medicated, it was almost as if they floated rather than walked. Maybe he needed whatever they were having.

It was some of their near catatonic states that made his devious intentions so simple to set in motion. He'd never actually fucked any of the women in the facility. Honestly, none of them were worth his time. That was, until he met Goldie. He knew she'd be his first. Sure, he'd solicited blowjobs here and there. There was something powerful about a woman dropping to her knees in front of him. He particularly enjoyed watching their eyes water and them gag as his cock prodded their throat and there was nothing quite like seeing his cum plastered across their face when all was said and done.

Fortunately, patient complaints fell on deaf ears. A lot of the women in the facility were products of sexual abuse, so their claims only seemed like an off-chute of those experiences and not something Clay would do. It was good to be king and in a matter of time, he was going to add Goldie as another notch in his proverbial work bedpost. However, she was going to be a lot more fun.

He almost welcomed a fight. He welcomed the fire. He didn't want it to be too easy after all. Things had gotten to a point of stagnation around the place and Goldie was like a B-12 shot for Lawrence-Fischer. It was obvious from the way she'd started to behave that Goldie was caving. He didn't know if it was just an act she was putting on to try to get in his good graces or if she was genuinely afraid of him, but whatever the case was, Clay knew he was starting to break her a bit.

As he stood in front of the doorway, he noted the trajectory the young woman took to grab her things. She was avoiding him. Avoiding everything about him. When she told him to stay away from her, the words had no conviction or power in them. Defeated already? And here he thought he had a fighter on his hands.

"Don't talk to me that way," Clayton retorted, shaking his head. "Whether you've come to accept it or not, I'm your direct superior at this facility. So, if you cooperate, I'll have that sexy ass of yours out of here in no time. But if you keep talking to me the way you have been and fighting me, you're going to be in this room for a lot longer than anticipated. I can make that happen. Now, does that sound like a good time?" He was obviously just flexing his power and truthfully, he did have that power. It was just that it really didn't matter how she behaved, he planned on keeping her around, at least until someone comparable took up residence there. For the time being, Goldie Ocasio was the cream of the crop and Clayton wasn't letting her go.

Finally, her apologies came. Although they didn't come across as genuine, Clay took them at face value and smirked. "See, now was that so hard? Goldie, Goldie, Goldie. You're so fucking precious. What are you doing here, anyway? A beautiful, strong-willed girl like yourself, locked away in a place like this? Shouldn't you be away at college, boozing it up at sorority parties and getting fucked by frat guys?"

It was obvious just in his candor and his unmoving body that he had no intentions of leaving just yet. Eventually, he'd have to make his rounds, but for the time being, he was satisfied learning more about the girl he was clearly going to exploit and manipulate into giving him everything he wanted.

 

[esielle]

It was as if her words of both telling and asking him to go away had fallen upon deaf ears or, more than likely the case, fell on ears that didn't care what she wanted him to do because he was going to do what he wanted anyway. That's the part that worried her - he was going to do what he wanted anyway. It was a thought, a notion that put a generous helping of anxiety within her and made her thoughts run rampant with scenarios he may very well be capable of turning into reality. The brightness of her gaze slowly slipped toward him as she went back and forth between her suitcase and the dresser, furrowing her brows as if she were just noticing him standing there when, really, she was wondering why he was still there, why he hadn't returned back to his work. She had heard his words loud and clear - don't talk to him any kind of way because he had some pull in this facility and might just be her ticket out of there earlier than anticipated. Goldie's face showed a flicker of confusion when he said that as, not too long ago, he told her exactly the opposite, that he wanted to keep her there. In her frame of mind, confusion was never a pleasant thing to experience and, suddenly, she didn't know whether he would help her get out of there as soon as possible or if he were going to try and keep her there. She'd just slipped some of her t-shirts into a drawer, but turned to look at him instead of turning and making her way back to her suitcase and what remained within it that awaited being put away in those drawers. Her eyes lifted to his face as she ran her tongue nervously over her bottom lip, bringing her arms up to cross in that habitual way that stated it was her way of trying to protect herself from any number of things. At the moment, him. The way she was looking at him just then, no one could be sure by the expression upon her face whether or not she actually was caving in or if she were gathering up her courage and strength for another lash outward. With her, anything was possible. However, after a few seconds of scanning over his face, she turned in meaning to go back to the suitcase laying upon the bed when his question stopped her in her tracks. Goldie furrowed her brows again and turned back to him as he wondered why she was there instead of at college where she should be living it up, partying hard, and letting various frat guys fuck her senseless. That was a sore spot with her and caused her to bring her head down so she could slide her gaze across the ground a few times as if the answer were there written across the tile and all he had to do was look down and see it.

It wasn't the first time someone had asked that question of her and it most certainly wouldn't be the last! You're such a bright girl, Goldie, what happened? Why don't you start off in community college and then transfer to a four-year University? Isn't there anything you want to study? What are you doing to do with your life? What do you want to be, Goldie? All those questions were par for the course when anyone asked her about college. Now there was this man - a man who made her very nervous and uncertain - asking her the same things, more or less. A frown took over her face as she shifted back and forth on her slipper-sock clad feet, swallowing hard through the lump that had gathered in her throat. The minute that passed seemed far longer than just a minute. It seemed like an hour or two had gone by before she had composed herself enough to look up at him with a shrug to her slender shoulders, "I'm not in college. I..." there were many truths she could state at that point, but she went for one that was less hurtful to herself, "...I decided not to go." That was the truth, but not the entire truth. The truth was that she had fucked up royally at various points in her education and the likelihood she would be accepted into any college was low. Her option was to go to community college - which was a respectable option, but one she could have bypassed had she done better in High School - or not go at all. Of course, there was the fact that she was, clearly, unstable in many regards and there might be many failures up ahead of her even if she did decide to go. Her head suddenly tilted back so she could glance around the room as if to silently say, "Maybe I'll look into colleges when I'm out of here. Maybe." When she brought her eyes back to him, she gave another, quicker shrug before turning to gather was remained of her clothing, "College isn't for everyone." She made her way back to the dresser in the same manner as she had before - avoiding him - to put her undergarments away. When she was finished, she sighed heavily, wearily and brought herself back around to him, "Neither is this place." Was she saying she didn't belong here or was she commenting on the fact that she thought he didn't belong in a place like that? Her eyes went quickly back and forth over his features, shifting on her feet again.

The moments were getting long and uncomfortable for her the longer he stood positioned in front of that door to silently convey he was not about to move until he was ready. While most people would have adapted to him standing there watching authoritatively, speaking down on them; the people in places like this - Goldie included - didn't have the luxury of such adaptability or else they wouldn't need to be there in the first place! No, the way he stood there watching her only made her feel more and more out of place, nervous, and like she was doing something wrong. Try as she might to ignore him, she could feel his eyes boring into her, being distracting enough that her attention had to stay with him. She moved to zip up the suitcase and put it back in its place near the window, wanting to keep busy and to keep herself moving, but she had run out of things to keep herself steady. Now, all she could do was slowly move back to the bed and slowly sit down so she was perched on the edge, turning her head to keep her eyes upon him. The way she sat there in a tense way said she was ready to spring up and away at any moment, but was doing her best to relax because the tension only made the state of things that much worse. After a few seconds, she bowed her head and closed her eyes, taking a few long breaths deeply in and slowly out. This feeling was maddening! She didn't like him being there. She didn't like him watching. She didn't like that she felt small when he talked to her. She didn't like him period. Quite abruptly, she stood to her feet and moved toward him as if she meant to bring up a hand and connect her palm with his cheek. Instead, she stopped just out of his reach and shoved her hands into her jean pockets, lowering her eyes, "I have to use the bathroom...." there was a pause, a glance up at him before she finished, "...please?"