Prompt 98 - Cubic - "In A White Room" - ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikespetslayer - HP
Jun. 7th, 2008 09:38 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dedra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: In A White Room
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: none
Warnings: none
Summary: White calmed him like nothing else could.
In A White Room
So much has happened. Too much to remember. I fight against the memories and hope that my fight is not in vain as I look around my home.
Calming and peaceful, I’m surprised how good the color white makes me feel. I’ve been hopeless for so long, waiting for so long for the fear to quiet and the pain to stop; I thought that it would never happen. I thought that I would feel the jangling nerves like a raw open wound until the day that I died.
When I close my eyes against the light, I see red again—a wash of red that colors the world and everyone in it in the exact shade of shed blood and it makes the pain come back so I try to keep my eyes open. For as long as I can, at least. Pain reminds me that my eyes are drying out and I need to blink but I make it quick to keep the red out of my eyes. I don’t like the color red anymore.
I like white. It keeps me from thinking of anything.
The walls are the same height all the way around, fifteen squares up and fifteen squares long. The ceiling is the same—fifteen by fifteen—and the floor is not partitioned off but I can tell that it’s the same as well. The numbers and counting calm me down when the thoughts begin going through my head like wildfire. All I have to do is start counting and the past fades into the background, white noise and static inside my head that keeps me from wondering what happened to bring me here and why I’m not at home.
I sit here in this cubic room and count the squares, the only breaks in my day coming from meals and visitors. The door breaks the line of squares that I’m counting and distracts me, letting the wash of red roll me over and over until I feel like I need to scream.
It’s a woman. She approaches me cautiously, like I’m a wild animal. “How do you feel today?”
“I’ve been counting. You interrupted me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You didn’t eat your spaghetti that they brought you for dinner. Any particular reason why? Is there something that you don’t like about it?”
“I don’t like red.”
“I see.” She nodded her head and I knew that she didn’t see. It was just one of the things that they say to make me quiet down. “So if we brought you some spaghetti with some other color sauce, you would eat it?”
“White sauce. I like white sauce.”
She nodded again and moved to the door and a slice of color dripped out from under the white gown that she put on over her clothes. I can’t help what I do and I hope that she knows that when I charge at her and hit her from behind, yanking at fistfuls of her hair.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m thrown to the ground and my arms are wrapped around my back. The jacket feels rough against my skin and I’m not sure whether to complain or be happy that I can still feel something.
They help me sit down and rest my back against the wall while she does something hidden from my eyesight.
The world fades as my eyes close and instead of seeing red, I see black. Black is almost as good as white. I sink down into it and let myself go.
~*~
They looked in the window at the man resting on his side, the peaceful expression on his face belying the madness in his head.
“Do you think that we can save him?” the woman asked her companion, a renowned healer from the States.
“That I cannot say. He is so obsessed by color and red in particular. The violence that it provokes is confusing to him as well as us. Is there anything in particular about red that you know of might set him off? You did say that you knew him from school.”
Hermione Granger turned her back on the room and the slight blond that rested quiescent against the wall for now. “There was the war with Voldemort, but Malfoy was spared much of the battle because of his parents. I really couldn’t say—although I do remember that when we attended Hogwarts together he was obsessed with blood purity.”
Niles Greenwich turned away from the window and followed her down the hall to her office. “That is the key, then. He fixated on red because of its correlation with blood and purity.”
She made a notation about the attack in Malfoy's file and closed it with finality that spoke of helplessness. “Then there is no way to help him, is there?”
“Only if you can get him past the blood prejudice that he holds onto so tightly. If not, then no.”
She pressed her lips together and looked down. “Do you think we should put him in the permanent ward?”
“Merlin, no! The variety of colors would send him round the bend. I think that Mr. Malfoy is doing well in the padded ward. It really is the only place for him, now and ever.”
Hermione looked down at her desk to hide her defeat from Healer Greenwich. “As I thought then. I will make the necessary arrangements.”
Niles started toward the door of the office, pausing at the threshold. “You know, Healer Granger, you shouldn’t think of this as a failure. The human mind, even of wizards, is too complex a puzzle for one person to solve alone.”
She raised her chin, her mouth set in a firm line. “I realize that, Niles. I just hoped that of the many, I could help one.”
“Sometimes we can’t, Healer Granger. Sometimes we have to do what is best for them and go from there.”
Although her mind registered the words, her thoughts rested on a pale man in a white room. Alone and destined to remain that way forever. Not quite the future that she had expected Draco Malfoy to have. Nor one that she thought she would share in a distant, secondary way.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: none
Warnings: none
Summary: White calmed him like nothing else could.
In A White Room
So much has happened. Too much to remember. I fight against the memories and hope that my fight is not in vain as I look around my home.
Calming and peaceful, I’m surprised how good the color white makes me feel. I’ve been hopeless for so long, waiting for so long for the fear to quiet and the pain to stop; I thought that it would never happen. I thought that I would feel the jangling nerves like a raw open wound until the day that I died.
When I close my eyes against the light, I see red again—a wash of red that colors the world and everyone in it in the exact shade of shed blood and it makes the pain come back so I try to keep my eyes open. For as long as I can, at least. Pain reminds me that my eyes are drying out and I need to blink but I make it quick to keep the red out of my eyes. I don’t like the color red anymore.
I like white. It keeps me from thinking of anything.
The walls are the same height all the way around, fifteen squares up and fifteen squares long. The ceiling is the same—fifteen by fifteen—and the floor is not partitioned off but I can tell that it’s the same as well. The numbers and counting calm me down when the thoughts begin going through my head like wildfire. All I have to do is start counting and the past fades into the background, white noise and static inside my head that keeps me from wondering what happened to bring me here and why I’m not at home.
I sit here in this cubic room and count the squares, the only breaks in my day coming from meals and visitors. The door breaks the line of squares that I’m counting and distracts me, letting the wash of red roll me over and over until I feel like I need to scream.
It’s a woman. She approaches me cautiously, like I’m a wild animal. “How do you feel today?”
“I’ve been counting. You interrupted me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. You didn’t eat your spaghetti that they brought you for dinner. Any particular reason why? Is there something that you don’t like about it?”
“I don’t like red.”
“I see.” She nodded her head and I knew that she didn’t see. It was just one of the things that they say to make me quiet down. “So if we brought you some spaghetti with some other color sauce, you would eat it?”
“White sauce. I like white sauce.”
She nodded again and moved to the door and a slice of color dripped out from under the white gown that she put on over her clothes. I can’t help what I do and I hope that she knows that when I charge at her and hit her from behind, yanking at fistfuls of her hair.
Before I know what’s happening, I’m thrown to the ground and my arms are wrapped around my back. The jacket feels rough against my skin and I’m not sure whether to complain or be happy that I can still feel something.
They help me sit down and rest my back against the wall while she does something hidden from my eyesight.
The world fades as my eyes close and instead of seeing red, I see black. Black is almost as good as white. I sink down into it and let myself go.
They looked in the window at the man resting on his side, the peaceful expression on his face belying the madness in his head.
“Do you think that we can save him?” the woman asked her companion, a renowned healer from the States.
“That I cannot say. He is so obsessed by color and red in particular. The violence that it provokes is confusing to him as well as us. Is there anything in particular about red that you know of might set him off? You did say that you knew him from school.”
Hermione Granger turned her back on the room and the slight blond that rested quiescent against the wall for now. “There was the war with Voldemort, but Malfoy was spared much of the battle because of his parents. I really couldn’t say—although I do remember that when we attended Hogwarts together he was obsessed with blood purity.”
Niles Greenwich turned away from the window and followed her down the hall to her office. “That is the key, then. He fixated on red because of its correlation with blood and purity.”
She made a notation about the attack in Malfoy's file and closed it with finality that spoke of helplessness. “Then there is no way to help him, is there?”
“Only if you can get him past the blood prejudice that he holds onto so tightly. If not, then no.”
She pressed her lips together and looked down. “Do you think we should put him in the permanent ward?”
“Merlin, no! The variety of colors would send him round the bend. I think that Mr. Malfoy is doing well in the padded ward. It really is the only place for him, now and ever.”
Hermione looked down at her desk to hide her defeat from Healer Greenwich. “As I thought then. I will make the necessary arrangements.”
Niles started toward the door of the office, pausing at the threshold. “You know, Healer Granger, you shouldn’t think of this as a failure. The human mind, even of wizards, is too complex a puzzle for one person to solve alone.”
She raised her chin, her mouth set in a firm line. “I realize that, Niles. I just hoped that of the many, I could help one.”
“Sometimes we can’t, Healer Granger. Sometimes we have to do what is best for them and go from there.”
Although her mind registered the words, her thoughts rested on a pale man in a white room. Alone and destined to remain that way forever. Not quite the future that she had expected Draco Malfoy to have. Nor one that she thought she would share in a distant, secondary way.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-08 02:56 pm (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2008-06-10 02:43 am (UTC)