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Kristen, at that point, had dispersed from the courtyard and roamed absentmindedly into the library. That specific place in the asylum rarely had anyone in it, for the patients were too- well, they were too "mental" to read. That, or they had better things to do with their time. But, Kristen, she had all the time in the world. Reading had been one of her favorite things to do before she was forced into the demonic asylum; before the torturous atmosphere took over her mind. The screeching and the clawing was now an everyday activity for her to witness- and she was becoming a part of it. Not the screaming part, but the clawing. Her nails were by then torn and ragged, specks of dry blood littering the clear cover of the nail like paint splattered on a canvas. It was depressing, really, what she was close to becoming. Soon she'd be locked up in the padded room, and it would be like her home in the asylum, a repetitive location for her to visit, and then, the asylum would decide she was incurable. What would happen then? Who knew; no one ever lived to tell.
Fiercely shaking the aggravating thoughts out and away from her mind, she crouched down before one of the few bookshelves that were scattered around the so-called "library", her eyes scanning each of the tortured spines with quiet observation. What the heck? All they had were horror stories! Sure, the terrifying plots always intrigued her, but she would be plagued with nightmares for months, and let me tell you, she already had enough of those without the horror stories. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she threaded her fingers through her uneven blonde hair, trying to find at least one book that wasn't total terror. After a few minutes of searching, Kristen retreated, deciding on a horror story called Ashes. It was thick, a smidge more than three-hundred pages, and the words were small, yet it wouldn't be long enough. Kristen would be trapped in the asylum until she died, or they killed her- hopefully it was the first option.
Kristen slid down the wall so she was sitting with her legs crossed against the hardwood floor, nestled in an alcove of the library. Flipping open the book to begin the chapter, her eyes widened in dismay as the pages slipped out of the frame of the book and scattered across the floor. Mumbling something under her breath, she gathered the mangled pages together, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she tried to organize them back to their proper order. In the end she just gave up and spread them out across the floor in front of her. If she couldn't read the original story, why not make a new one?
{ Sorry for the bad post, I'm making a bunch of forms. }
{ WIP for Lucas. }
