Post by zoken on Feb 24, 2011 21:44:55 GMT -7
Hatter looked around. She had only a small toiletry bag. She was wearing the plain white linen clothes that the Morning Side Mental Care Facility had given her. It even had MSMCF stitched just over her left breast. She walked over to an empty bunk and set her toiletries down on it. She was smiling distantly. She looked out the window. It was a pleasant view. An outsider might think it a reminiscent smile, but she’d lived in the city or a hospital most of her life. She absently reached over and plucked a grape and popped it into her mouth as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
She sat down on her newly claimed bunk. She was not sure what to think of this place. When the giant attacked, she knew that she couldn’t stay at the hospital anymore. And despite the reputation many mental health facilities had, she had rather liked her old home. It was the place where she was most cared about. Her mother was not affectionate. However, that was not her mother’s fault really, Hatter made people crazy by looking them in the eyes. However, an infant girl couldn’t exactly control a “gift” like that. She started to put her toiletries around her bunk as if putting up knick-nacks.
She started humming tunelessly. It wasn’t a soft melodious sound, more like a four-year-old trying out a drum set. She set her floss dispenser at the head of the bunk, and held her tooth paste and looked at her bed sheets as if trying to decide if she should use it to decorate the sheets and bring a little color into the room. She used the closed tube to trace patterns in the air, then shook her head and set it back in her baggy. She put a little pink razor one of the other patients had taught her to use at the foot of her bunk and smiled at her accomplishments. “Puffins!” she blurted, as if commending herself on the work.
She sat down on her newly claimed bunk. She was not sure what to think of this place. When the giant attacked, she knew that she couldn’t stay at the hospital anymore. And despite the reputation many mental health facilities had, she had rather liked her old home. It was the place where she was most cared about. Her mother was not affectionate. However, that was not her mother’s fault really, Hatter made people crazy by looking them in the eyes. However, an infant girl couldn’t exactly control a “gift” like that. She started to put her toiletries around her bunk as if putting up knick-nacks.
She started humming tunelessly. It wasn’t a soft melodious sound, more like a four-year-old trying out a drum set. She set her floss dispenser at the head of the bunk, and held her tooth paste and looked at her bed sheets as if trying to decide if she should use it to decorate the sheets and bring a little color into the room. She used the closed tube to trace patterns in the air, then shook her head and set it back in her baggy. She put a little pink razor one of the other patients had taught her to use at the foot of her bunk and smiled at her accomplishments. “Puffins!” she blurted, as if commending herself on the work.