"Girls have got balls. They're just a little higher up that's all."

Will have all of this up tomorrow! Can I just say that I now ship Mockingbird/Hawkeye?
 
Name: Bobbi Morse
Alias: Mockingbird [formerly Agent 19]
Age: Twenty-four, but ages slower than the average human due to tweaked genetics.
Species: Human, but physical attributes enhanced to peak of human potential.
Power(s): Superbly trained athlete and gymnast. Skilled in unarmed combat, espionage, and weaponry [prefers her battle staves].
Personality: Independent, passionate, rebellious, curious, pensive, feisty and a bit cynical, playful when she wants to be
Likes: Taking long walks, rain, sarcasm, sunsets, travelling, the color blue, the outdoors, the city, jeans, listening to the radio, swimming, going for hikes
Dislikes: Fighting with Clint, liars, Natasha Romanoff, sitting still for too long, boring people, being in hospital, sequin anything, chauvinists, dumb questions, alarm clocks, beating around the bush
Bio: You see her around and you remember her name. You know very well that you don't cross Bobbi Morse. Everyone knows that. She believes firmly in justice where justice is do and acts on that principle constantly. You remind yourself to not get on her bad side. Bobbi doesn't know why espionage called out to her. She likes to think that it's simply just something in her wiring that compels her to flock to chaos. Or maybe it's just because biology turned out to be so damn BORING.. Either way, Bobbi dropped out of college and left California behind. Her devastated parents preached the good side to normalcy, but Bobbi soon found herself training with the CIA. She trained day in and day out. And then some. It turned out to be a smooth ride [for the most part] -- she was practically made for this role. Highly intuitive, fiercely determined, and just the right amount of passionate... government officials overlooked her age and took her on. She did her job well and enjoyed it completely. After awhile, things started to go south. Bobbi has never been able to stay in one place for very long and began to feel antsy after an accident caused by a flight of stairs. [She earned a handful of bruised ribs and a broken arm.] Around this time, Bobbi received a letter from Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. In it, he mentioned that he had admired her work from a far and hoped to use her talents in the future. She accepted without another thought, becoming Agent 19. Things immediately felt off as soon as soon she arrived at Headquarters. All was not well in S.H.I.E.L.D.; it turned out several agents were secretly plotting against the organization. You just didn't do that in her mind. Bobbi mentioned it to Fury, and with some approval, began looking into the suspicious activity. Again, the anxiety began to set in after awhile.. After a good run, Bobbi resigned from S.H.I.E.L.D. Fury didn't let her stray too far, however, and assigned her to the Cross Technological Enterprises file. There, Bobbi met her match in expert marksman Clint Barton. Despite the violent bickering that popped up occasionally, they turned out to be an excellent team... [Mockingbird and Hawkeye had a sort of ring to it, don't you think?] The two fell in love. It eventually became an on-off-on-off thing and they lost track of each other. Bobbi never let it go. She heard the rumors revolving around Clint and the gorgeous Natasha Romanoff and quickly set off elsewhere to ease her mind and broken heart. Now S.H.I.E.L.D. has brought her back as an Avenger trainee and it feels almost like coming home. But Clint's here [as a full-fledged Avenger] and participating in the training. Maybe she won't feel the need to pack up and leave this time around...
Model: Tamsin Egerton
 
Playlist:
1. Just Like A Woman by Bob Dylan
2. Tangerine by Led Zeppelin
3. Easy Living by Miranda Lambert
4. Run Right Back by The Black Keys
5. Over The Hills And Far Away by Led Zeppelin
6. You Wreck Me by Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
7. Fastest Girl In Town by Miranda Lambert
 
Collection: [be sure to go into detail about their likes/dislikes/family/history here. if you'd like, you can throw in what they'd typically wear as well]

Top Three (besides Bobbi):
1. Jessica Drew/Spider-Woman
2. Bambi Long/Gamora
3. Johnny Storm/The Human Torch

@willofthewisp -- All done!
 
Lady Ophelia of Avalon
Age: Seventeen, soon-to-be-eighteen
Who is her favorite prince?: Prince Dylan
Likes: The elements, lilies, the colors purple and blue, writing letters, her grandmother's cloak, teaching, children, history
Bio: In the kingdom of Camelot, nobody dares publicly speak of faeries for fear of swift punishment. (King Arthur's wrath is unrivaled.) These mysterious creatures, instead, have found themselves the subject of many a bedtime story. Children are spoiled with tales of magical beings that once lived among the island's majestic landscape. They say Avalon is where the faeries live now - but no one is certain. King Arthur has forbidden contact with magic of any sort and the rumors spread about the kingdom, painting the sprites out to be devious thieves, have only helped to cease the desire for exploration. Despite the unpleasant imagery, faeries do in fact exist. Beautiful Avalon is where they roam wild; a population centered around healing and magic. Lady Ophelia can call herself one of them. She is half-human, half-faery, and quite proud of her heritage. She lives in the village surrounding Camelot, but has made many trips to her homeland over the years. Ophelia despises the reputation her people have come to gather and is determined to prove myth wrong. Her dream is to see the day when magic beings and mortals can live together peacefully. It's going to be a brutal (even bloody) fight. Will it be worth it in the end?
Model: Nastya Kusakina
Taken by: @fiendishthingy

Collection: http://www.polyvore.com/come_away_human_child_to/collection?id=2558975#fans

Playlist:
1. The Battle of Evermore by Led Zeppelin (Thought of this as soon as I read her name.)
2. Oklahoma Sky by Miranda Lambert
3. No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine
4. Little Green by Joni Mitchell
5. Your Long Journey by Alison Krauss and Robert Plant
6. Radioactive by Imagine Dragons
7. Zor And Zam by The Monkees
8. Light by Michael Nesmith
9. Violet Hill by Coldplay
10. That's The Way by Led Zeppelin
 
Top Three:
1. Senorita Rosa of Spain
2. Mademoiselle Angelique of Paris
3. Lady Anastasia of Russia
------
 
My mother and I like to harmonize when it comes to singing. Her voice is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. Soft like the silk lining of my grandmother's old cloak and as sweet as the berry pastries my father likes to spoil me with on birthdays. I think mine is truly inadequate in comparison, but she tells me that it is lovely. When my mother sings she moves with her arms spread behind her and her long blonde tresses fly madly around her shoulders. She is all faery then.
 
Mother and I have a soft spot for love ballads. Some evening years ago, I remember Father telling me that this was how Mother had won him over. She had been singing that particular moment and he had fallen under her spell, never to return. With a glint in her eye, my mother remarked that it was her lack of clothing that had sealed their fate. I smiled watching my parents spar and laugh.
 
The two of us dance around our tiny front area. I with my broom and she with her rags. Mother smiles at me as we trade off verses. I sweep in front of the rickety old fire place and sing. I like these moments shared between just the two of us. People tell me I resemble my mother almost completely. The wild blonde hair and pale skin only add to the mirror image. I take after my father in mindset.
 
"Darling, come. Let us prepare supper..."
 
I place the broom in the kitchen and dip my hands in the wash basin. The house will never get any cleaner, but we can try. I pull out bread and cheese, while Mother sets the table. I don't realize how hungry I am until my mouth suddenly begins to water. I haven't eaten since breakfast.
 
"Good evening," my father's voice booms. I turn to see his figure sliding through the front door. His arms are full of bundles, which isn't unusual for the second Monday of every month (as that's when he stock up on supplies for the shop and food), but it's the letter in his hand that catches my eye. The envelope is covered in an impeccable scrawl. Father's forefinger runs over the elegant seal closing the parchment.
 
My mother finishes and moves over to him. Placing a hand on her hip, she peers down at the letter. "What's that?"
 
He answers in almost a question. "It's for Ophelia.."
 
My eyebrows raise slowly as I walk around the table to get to them. I remain quiet. I write letters quite often, but none ever look like that. Worry starts to settle in my stomach. My mind is running wild wondering what I could have possibly done.
 
"And?"
 
"It's from the King," my father finishes slowly. Turning to me, hand outstretched, he offers the letter. He and Mother wait patiently for me to open it, but I can practically feel them urging me on.
 
I slide my finger under the flap and unfold the parchment. It is from the King. Straight from the royal court of Camelot. My eyes scan the letter as quickly as possible. I am left feeling surprised once I finish. "It says... Well, it says the King and Queen are picking wives for their sons..." I begin. "They've chosen a number of ladies from all across the continent, of all sorts of backgrounds, to come stay at the palace... They want to see how the ladies socialize with their sons and the members of the family... From that group of women, the King and Queen will pick a suitable wife for each of their sons... And I've been chosen as one of the eligible women...."
 
A smile flits quickly onto my mother's lips, but then it vanishes just as quickly. I start to worry again. Mother and Father share a concerned glance. I hand the letter back to Father. "I can control myself, you know.." I suggest quietly, meaning my magic. I would never reveal myself just like that. I've heard the stories. There are far, far more bad than good.
 
My head is reeling.
 
"Yes... But can they?"
 
Mother nods in agreement, watching me with pursed lips.

I am way too excited for this movie.

SUNDAY - A treat for all patients - the Grounds, a fenced garden usually reserved for the most cooperative, will be open to all today. Enjoy the fresh air.
 
[Let me apologize now for the poor quality.. I wanted to get something out. :/]
---------------------
The old tree provides a perfect hiding spot. It plays the poor outsider in the garden, sitting yards away from the other trees. Far enough to provide peace and quiet, but not far enough that the staff should feel need to conduct a head count.
 
Benjamin reclines against the trunk, long legs stretched out in front of him, murmuring dumb one-liners to me as he weaves his fingers in and out of my hair. Adjusting my head in his lap, I smile and let my eyes flutter closed. The motion of his fingers playing with my hair eventually lulls me to sleep. Images of blue-eyed babies and shaggy dogs and acres of green grass occupy my subconscious.
 
Maybe I am a little square.

Mentioned: @deidra-le-reve
 
WEDNESDAY - Sister Corinne and Father Alexander are launching a "film night" in the Commons, showing an educational documentary on the Bible.
-------------------
 
Mama and Daddy were never too religious.
 
Sure, we went to church every week, dressed to the hilt in our Sunday best.. but it was for appearances. All for the sake of keeping up one's reputation. Mama would have simply died if she became fresh gossip for the old crows in Betty Jenken's hair salon. (It happened eventually.) A fall from grace in Houston could never promise certain recovery. Daddy never cared that much about church. Sports and Mama's nagging were his reasons for attending. More than once, I sat on my father's knee during one of Pastor Ethan's sermons and listened to whispered arguments about football.
 
Church for me was an opportunity to explore; my backyard away from my backyard. After church, while the grown-ups sat inside and talked about
adult things, I played outside, oblivious. Running through the overgrown field, skirt held high above my skinny little legs, happier than I was anywhere else. My auntie was the one to teach me about religion. Over the years, it's given me something to believe in.
 
I run through the empty halls, determined to make it to the Commons on time. I will not be late to another group activity. The dark bruises scattered over my upper thighs still sting. Even after a full week.
 
Bursting through the door, I stop to catch my breath. Sister Corrine and Father Alexander, the patrons of tonight's activity, are nowhere to be found. I sigh in relief. A groan soon follows when I can't find a seat. Chair after folding chair is occupied. That's just great. I really don't want to be here.
 
"Edith!" someone calls.
 
Standing there, unsure, I finally catch the person's eye. I recognize her as one of Elsa's friends... Nyasha, yes, that's it. I point stupidly to myself, as if to ask, "Are you sure?" She waves me over to the very back, smiling. She never seemed to like me much..
 
I command myself to summon up the courage from a few nights ago.
 
Where is that Edith?
 
"Thanks," I whisper, sliding into the seat next to her. Another girl I recognize from the night in the Bakery sits on her other side. I glance quickly at Nyasha before turning my attention over to Father Alexander. He waits patiently at the front of the room, Sister Corrine at his side. Nyasha murmurs a soft "mhmm," doing the same.
 
For the first thirty minutes, I alternate paying attention to the film and daydreaming. A night of saintly propaganda doesn't sound too appealing, so I let it drift in one ear and out the other. Within minutes of the film starting, Nyasha and her friend slip out of the room, murmuring something about "no supervision."
 
Benjamin startles me as he claims Nyasha's empty seat. He kisses my cheek, mumbling a greeting against my skin. The dark allows us to be closer than usual. Thinking about the other night still gives me delicious butterflies.
 
"Hey," I whisper, scooting closer ever-so-carefully as to not screech my chair against the floor. He settles his arm around my shoulders. I adjust my position in my chair, crossing my left leg over my right as I curl into him. The skirt of my dress slides up and reveals the navy marks on my upper thigh in a brief gasp of light.
 
Benjamin growls, almost.
 
I quickly pull my dress back in place. He places his hand under the fabric, pressing lightly on the ugly bruises. I jump slightly.
 
"Baby.."
 
"I'm fine."

@ocean-blue-xo - Story up! Apologies for the less-than-stellar story.
 
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.
-------------------------------------
 
Whispers fly around the dining hall about unsupervised time in the Bakery later today.
 
My ears perk up immediately. Mulling it over, I try to finish the soggy oatmeal they serve every morning. So far, this week has been awful. Just awful. From Dr. Kent's sleep studies and the series of hits I received from Sister Catherine's cane for falling asleep during group therapy (and, not to mention, the horrible dream that started it all), to hyperventilating during breakfast and lunch on Monday and drawing a huge crowd... My mind has being failing me lately, I guess.
 
"Of course there'll be several cases of beer.. You stupid?" I fold my napkin neatly and toss it on the tray. It lands in the oatmeal, crumpling in on itself. A plan starts to form in my head.
 
---
 
We file single-file into the Bakery like a group of grade school children. Father Alexander counts off the boys and Sister Corrine counts off the girls, twirling a strand of bubblegum pink hair around her finger. I've never liked her. Ducking into the Bakery, I can hear them mumbling to the guards. Father Alexander peeks his head between the large double doors as one last head count. He surveys the room with intense focus while we stand there in awkward silence, waiting for him to leave. He sweeps out of the room after a few minutes just as the guards step through the doors.
 
Two boys step forward, each holding a case of beer in their arms. Twin grins appear on the guards' faces. They look like they've just won the lottery. They scoop up the beer and head towards one of the storage rooms. "That was easy....." I think, snorting as I watch them disappear behind the door.
 
I don't want to think tonight.
 
Not one little thought, not one little worry, not one little ridiculous fear will pass through my head.
 
This is my break.
 
Everyone seems to scatter around the room as soon as the door shuts behind the giddy guards. Beer is grabbed and cigarettes are pulled out. Silvery smoke soon fills up the room, swirling around me as I spin around on my heel, taking in everything. To get more comfortable, I slide the ribbon out of my hair, running my fingers through it to mess it up. The fraying green silk slips through my fingers and floats to the ground. I take a deep breath.
 
My foot crushes the ribbon as I head straight for her.
 
---
 
Elsa looks me over again and again, pursing her red lips every few minutes. I suddenly feel really dumb for thinking of this. She makes me feel awkward, like a little girl. My body wants to shift nervously from foot to foot, but I command myself to stare back at her. The few people she sits with are spread around us. They laugh loudly, but not too loudly, and clink their beer bottles together. I don't have to look away to know they're watching us.
 
I start to turn around once it hits the three-minute mark, but then she smiles. It's almost /approving./ Elsa scoots over in one swift movement and drops a cigarette into my open palm.
 
"This is Edith," she nods in my direction and takes a swig of her drink.
 
I pop the cigarette between my lips. I have no idea what I'm doing, and I'm fairly positive that it shows, but I don't care. I really don't care tonight. Elsa's friend, a girl whose name I can't place but recognize immediately, tosses me a cherry red lighter. My fingers fumble with the lever at first, but I light up soon enough. I hold the puff of smoke in much too long and end up coughing. Instead of annoyed murmurs, like I expect to have assault me, I hear laughter.
 
I feel good. Victorious, almost.
 
I feel better with each passing hour.
 
---
 
Towards the end of the night, I find him.
 
I wonder where he's been all night, tilting my head unknowingly as I study him. It doesn't matter. Smirking, I make a slightly tilted beeline for him. Nothing is going to get in my way.
 
My fingers curl around his lapel. He looks surprised as I pull him down to my level with maybe a little more force than necessary. I kiss him then like we've both been sentenced to the chair. The guy he was talking to stalks away, combat boots stomping against the concrete. My skin is engulfed in flames.
 
Benjamin pulls me into one of the empty rooms.

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.
--------------------------------------------
 
Sacred Cross is silent.
 
Dead silent.
 
Slipping ever-so-carefully out of bed, folding the sheets back into place inch-by-inch, I contemplate this fact. I can't remember it ever being this quiet. Not once in my nearly two years of being locked up here has it ever been like this. The halls are always filled with quiet murmurs and revealing creaks courtesy of the ancient floorboards.
 
It's oddly nice.
 
Smiling, I allow myself a few spare moments to take in my surroundings. Feeling almost sentimental, I bid the room goodbye. The dull gray walls, complete with various cracks winding through the stone; the sink and its leaky faucet; the expertly-polished, nearly gleaming Bibles; the prison-esque bunk-bends.. The quiet will work to our advantage.
 
Ducking my head and leaning precariously over my cot to prevent it from creaking, I grab the one pillow every patient is allowed. I slip my hand inside. A rough material meets my searching fingers. Small and crumpled, I slide the sack out and smooth it against my thigh. It's just the perfect size for my few belongings. How Benjamin managed to steal two of them from the kitchens, I'll never know.
 
I feel giddy as I shuffle over to my dresser, slowly opening the drawers one at a time. Is giddy the right word? The goosebumps forming on my arms and legs point to anxiety, but I don't feel nervous. Not at all. My mind is focused intently on the task at hand. While shoving article after article of clothing into the burlap sack, I feel like I'm going to burst with excitement. I feel like laughing. My teeth clamp down on my lower lip to stop that from happening.
 
Just the idea of being able to escape sends sparks of electricity up my spine. Every dream of mine, every hope I've ever had, starts to take shape and fill out. They become real and very much possible.
 
I'm going to burst. I just know it.
 
Within minutes I finish collecting my things. Knotting the top of the sack and throwing it over my shoulder, I head toward the door. Even though my roommate never seemed to be too fond of me (especially during Dr. Kent's sleep studies), I wish her luck in a quick prayer. It's still pitch black when I step outside, but I can feel Benjamin standing just a few inches away. He always seems to smell like ivory soap.
 
His hand finds mine. Soft kisses rain down on my knuckles.
 
Freedom.
 
Summers in the country, simple gold wedding rings, my own veterinarian practice, blissful moments with two little kids running around the backyard, carefree hours spent in my own home...
 
I smile.
 
---
 
We don't have to think too hard to guess where Roel is at this hour. His guards-in-training seem to have disappeared as well. Benjamin smiles down at me and clutches tighter to my hand.
 
The word freedom runs through my head on constant replay. We're so close.
 
I gasp, dropping my burlap sack. It hits the ground with a loud thud.
 
Dark figures reach for Benjamin. Their long arms stretch forward as the fingers on each of their hands turn into claws. He yells for us to run. We duck into the woods, and he pulls me this way and that as we come across trees to hide behind. With every second the woods seem to expand, growing larger until they're swallowing us. I look up at Benjamin and foolishly stick out a hand to smooth his wrinkled forehead.
 
I wish he wouldn't frown.
 
Suddenly, I feel weighed down. Why isn't he running? His hand slips out of mine. Looking back, I see him go limp against the bed of dead leaves and twigs. His eyes close. Black arms drag him deep into the heart of the woods. A scream pierces my ears.
 
A loud shriek escapes my lips...
 
"MISS HOLLY!" Nurse Russo coughs.
 
When I wake up, I feel multiple pairs of eyes watching my every move.

SUNDAY - Sister Catherine and Sister Corinne are giving an educational lecture on proper conduct between the sexes after Wednesday's intermingling with the boys. Attendance is mandatory.
-------------------------------------------
 
FLASHBACK - LAST NIGHT
 
At this very moment, more than anything in the world, I want to crawl under my cot and hide... even melt into the concrete. /That/ would be lovely. I don't think I've ever been more uncomfortable in my life. Dr. Kent seems to believe that studying my movements all night will lead to the explanation as to why I'm unable to sleep. Oh, how wrong he is..
 
A flickering light bulb, paired with Dr. Kent tapping his clipboard against his knee every so often, has only made my roommate turn on me. I'm turned toward the wall, curled into the fetal position in the bottom bunk, but I can feel her glare burning into my skin from somewhere above me. Honestly, it's not like I asked for this. "Just go to sleep," I murmur through gritted teeth, hoping that she'll - maybe, just maybe - get the hint.
 
If I could be fast asleep right now, I would.
 
My legs start to ache. I want to stretch them out, but Dr. Kent's huge briefcase filled with only-God-knows-what is blocking the end of my bed. I sigh quietly and squirm around, trying to make myself as comfortable as possible. Dr. Kent scribbles something on his pad of paper. I squeeze my eyes shut, opening them, then repeat the process a few more times. He scribbles something more.
 
I sigh again.
 
My insomnia had a routine of popping up every few months, which was fairly manageable; now it seems like it's a weekly, almost nightly, thing. Dr. Kent coughs loudly and I can just make out my roommate swearing under her breath. My shoulders start to tense up. Another seven hours to go...
 
Oh, yeah.. Dr. Kent plans to continue this the rest of the week.
 
I bang my head against my pillow.
 
A few hours in, I get the idea of pretending to sleep. Still scrunched into the fetal position, I clasp my hands under my chin and begin to snore quietly. I focus on slowing my breathing, counting "Mississippis" in my head. I reach one-thousand by the time Dr. Kent seems to have seen all that he needs. The chair he brought in screeches against the floor as he pulls it back, tossing it aside for the time being. He hums to himself and I almost snort, recognizing it as something by Ricky Nelson.
 
Never would have guessed.
 
Dr. Kent flips open his briefcase, tucking away his various notes, and snaps it shut just as quickly. The bed bounces as he gathers up his things, sending me flying with it. I wait patiently for him to leave.
 
Click. Flick. Swoosh.
 
The light is switched off, the door is shut, and I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes ache for sleep, threatening to close at any moment, but my body doesn't feel up to obliging. I roll over and stare at the sink. I don't know how to cure this, so I just let it happen.. but I do know that Dr. Kent's bright ideas won't do me any good.
 
Sleep, the tricky minx that she is, finally comes early in the morning. It's a dreamless sleep. I'm so happy. I settle against my pillow, one leg hanging out of my blanket.
 
---
 
"Miss Holly."
 
"Miss Holly."
 
"Miss Holly.. You have a lecture to attend.."
 
---
 
"Girls and boys are not to participate in any act besides friendship, which is perfectly acceptable.."
 
I follow Nurse Russo into the commons, hanging my head sheepishly. Snickering and a few feminine murmurs follow me to the back of the room. I find an empty seat next to a brunette girl I don't know. She smirks at me.
 
I want to crawl under my cot and hide.

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.
------------------------------
 
One.
 
Two..
 
Three...
 
Time ticks by slowly while I sit in Dr. Kent's office, staring and twiddling my thumbs. It ticks by much too slowly. My meeting seems to drag on and on. I still don't have any clue as to why I'm there. I can't do anything but sit there innocently...
 
The counting helps. It always seems to.
 
Just not this time.
 
My eyes follow Sister Catherine's every move, watching her stuffy black robes sweep around the room. She circles Dr. Kent's desk for the fifth time, smirking like the Cheshire Cat, while the good ol' doctor just sits there, looking over my files. "Please just sit down!" I scream against the inside of my skull. She's setting me on edge.
 
I bite my lip, clamping down hard, trying in vain to keep my breathing even. I start to wonder why I'm there. Various, ridiculous ideas pop in my head, claiming the title of correct answer. Lately, my appointments have been spaced out, occurring further and further apart.. I'm not the type to lash out..
 
Something deep within me compels my foot to shoot forward and clamp down on Sister Catherine's robes, in hopes that she'll slip and give up on the vulture act. I want to know already! I quickly adjust my position in the chair, however, crossing my legs before my actions land me doubled-up therapy sessions. I can't handle that.
 
I need to get out of his office.
 
"Miss Holly, where is that infamous southern charm?"
 
I force a smile at Dr. Kent.
 
"We're going to remain quiet, I see.." He tosses my folder aside, pushing his glasses up his nose, "Miss Holly, word has it that you've been particularly tired as of late. Sister Catherine has brought this to my attention.."
 
She pauses and smiles widely at me.
 
I wait for him to tick off the newest addition of pills to my already exotic-sounding list.
 
Four....
 
---
 
I shift awkwardly against the wall, watching everyone mingle cautiously. The Everly Brothers harmonize about lost happiness and I smile briefly, remembering the giant teenage crush I use to have on them. Pretending they were my dates as I use to sidle down the church walkway was just a highlight. In the end, though, Don was always my favorite.
 
Random girls appear by my side through out the night, exhausted or bored or seeking a hiding place far from Father Nick. Some try to make conversation and I try my very best to follow.. but my meeting with Dr. Kent and Sister Catherine has effectively ruined my socializing for the night and I feel awful because of it. The girls are kind enough to leave me alone, sensing the situation.
 
I guess I can't do anything more.
 
Benjamin cuts through the cluster of people in the center of room, looking very determined as he moves closer. My skin tingles, making me feel exceptionally giddy. He's frowning, forehead crinkling. I want to slide my arms around him, but Sister Catherine is a mere five feet away and I don't feel up to talking with her again today. Instead, I settle for grabbing his hand and giving it a light squeeze.
 
I would do anything to make things easier for him.
 
"Hi."
 
He brings our tangled hands up to his heart. "Hi."
 
"I wish you wouldn't frown."
 
He smiles.

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.
---
 
They swoop in like a pack of shiny, done-up vultures, eager to pick us apart.
 
My stomach lurches. Thirty reporters pop into the common room (which is much tider than usual, for the time being..) and it seems to be split directly down the middle: fifteen men and fifteen women. Their microphones are poised and ready to strike, settled permanently below their mouths. The cameras clutched high in their hands snap away furiously, pouncing on the area within seconds. Picture after picture after picture is captured. Our delighted staff beams in unison, wiping away any lingering wicked grins.
 
I settle my gaze on my shoes.
 
The patients stand on either side of the staff, segregated by gender, most too afraid to move an inch. We stand there like perfect little children, playing with our hemlines and tangling our fingers together to keep us from truly going out of our minds.
 
It brings back distant memories of Mama and Daddy preening me for church. Foggy memories of a much younger version of myself helplessly standing there, straight as a rod, while being studied meticulously and getting picked apart for things out of my control. My stomach fights against me once again, twisting and turning. I feel so, so sick.
 
Childishly, I wish again and again to be taken back to my room.
 
Applause roars around the room as Cardinal Robert sweeps in, waving multiple times in mock-humbleness. His robes seem to swish in before him. The cross around my neck burns. I have to look away. Because it's all too much and it eases the searing pain shooting up my spine. A little. This is my second press junction-tour-whatever and it hasn't gotten any easier.
 
My fingers tug at my dress, removing imaginary lint from its waistband and skirt. My mind is working overtime, stretching itself, ensuring that I make it through the next two hours. I will... somehow. Even if it's just by a hair.
 
Breathe, Edith.
 
Just breathe.
 
Breathe.
 

[Comment with any relationships!]