Night time wanderings (Jo)

[Laura Richardson]

Laura woke up, suddenly, teeth jammed tight together to stop the scream from leaking out. She couldn't scream, she'd wake the neighbours, and Uncle Kenneth had promised to keep his 'horror movies' turned down low after last time. She’d just… Slowly the realisation dawned on her that she wasn’t at home, with her Uncle Kenneth or anyone. She was at a weird school in the middle of nowhere, and she couldn’t even try to sneak out in the middle of the night to visit her uncle like she had before her foster parents started sleeping with the keys.

Sitting up, Laura decided she wasn’t staying in this room any longer. Picking up her sketchbook and pencils, she left the room, and, looking up and down the corridor began to wander. She probably wouldn’t get that far, but being the emotional wreck she was, hopefully she wouldn’t meet anyone. She’d probably cry on them and then they’d die and that would be bad. Plonking herself down on the floor in the corridor, Laura wriggled her way into a corner and wished she had a nice cupboard to hide in. A nice cupboard where nobody would bother her, maybe with a light so she could draw properly…

Sniffling a little to try and keep tears at bay, Laura turned to what she was at least fairly sure was a clean page and began to doodle. Ladybirds and trees and fields… She hummed a snatch of Lady Madonna to try and stop herself from crying and scrunched herself further into the corner, wondering how long she had before an adult noticed and made a fuss. Adults in this place probably had a thing about her being out of bed and wanting her to sleep in the same place every night. And not under anything either, which was a bit scary. One of Laura’s favourite places to sleep at home was under the table. It made her feel safe, and she could blue tack her drawings to the underneath of the table and wake up looking at something nice. She liked that.

[Francesca von Hannesburg]

Francesca lay awake at night, gazing out of the window through the little gap in her curtains. Her roommate was crying and whimpering softly in her sleep, and Francesca had been awake for a very long time -hours?- listening to the noises. She felt sympathetic towards her, but shyness discouraged her from going over. She wouldn't know what to do, anyway. It was dark, so the girl wouldn't see her expression, and there was no way she was going to talk. The mere idea had sweat forming on her brow.
Francesca lay awake, listening to the girl cry. The sounds were so sad, so hopeless, she felt her own eyes tear up. The stars through the curtains turned smeary, and she reached up a hand to brush away tears, angry. Why was she feeling sorry for this strange girl? They'd never met before, not properly. They were roommates, but neither one had spoken to the other.
When she awoke, Francesca froze. She didn't want to talk, didn't want the girl to think she had been listening to her cry without doing anything about it. She shut her eyes tight, pretended to be asleep. She'd got good at that living with her father. When he'd come into her room at night, her best and only defense was to curl up and pretend to sleep, closing her eyes and desperately wishing away the sound of heavy breathing and hard footfalls.
Laura was moving now, picking something up and leaving the dorm. Francesca swallowed. Where was she going? Was she going to meet someone? Could she use some company? The door clicked shut, and Francesca lay, stock-still in the dark, eyes still squeezed tightly shut, jaw clenched. A tear leaked out of her eye, and she brushed it away once again. Finally, she decided. If she was crying at night, wouldn't she want company? Francesca swung her feet out of bed, and pulled on her warmest hoody before shoving her feet into her trainers. She hated the cold, and this state was horrible, full of ice and snow and pale sunlight.
Heading out of the door, she saw the blonde turn around a corner, pulled together her courage, and made her way after her. She her roommate straight away, crouched in a small corner in the next corridor, drawing frantically on her pad. She seemed happy, almost blissful, and Francesca stood at the end of the corridor, unwilling to disturb her. She knew how it felt to have something that made the stress go away, even if it burned out after a few minutes. Sometimes seconds, depending on what she used. But it made her feel better all the same, and this girl obviously felt that way now.
Or at least, that was part of the reason, the other being that she was now afraid to approach her. What if Laura expected her to speak, or hug her? That would only end in tears. More of them. Francesca crouched in the shadows at the end of the corridor, hugging her knees to her chest, watching the girl as she drew. Maybe she'd finish and go back to the room, and not notice her. Maybe she could forget about this whole night-time incident.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

St. Dympha's was short staffed. You could say extremely short staffed, if you wanted, but Jo didn't particularly want to say that. However, one of the night-security had flu, so Jo had volunteered to take her place with night-time patrols. She had no therapy sessions until the evening the next day, so she'd just sleep late. It'd be nice, if a disruption to her routine. Well; apparently sleeping late was nice, or at least teenagers thought so. Although she was not a teenager, she had been told that she acted like one (or a small child, close enough), so she figured that she'd enjoy sleeping late, like her patients. Technically, however, if she went down that route, she'd also enjoy drinking copious amounts of alcohol, inflicting emotional and physical pain, oh, and sex. None of which she (thought) she liked.

She had weird thoughts. Jo admitted that. And when she told others that she suspected that her thoughts were weird, they often nodded, or told her that her speech and general demeanor were also weird. Weird (adjective): involving or suggesting the supernatural; unearthly or uncanny. She didn't think that her thoughts tended to involve things that were supernatural, because she thought they were stupid, and she didn't usually think about things that weren't on earth. The solar system interested her. And what did uncanny really mean? She needed to look it up, but this wasn't the time. Generally, however, she thought the word 'weird' didn't apply to her, but as people commonly used it to mean things they didn't understand (like her) she accepted it. Continuing along the corridor, shining her torch along the floor, she hummed a song that she didn't know the name of. Something classical; calming. She disliked most modern music, as they usually had high-pitched instruments and irritating, repetitive lyrics. Why was that? So people without photographic memories could learn them? Possibly.

As her torch shone further down the corridor, she noticed a foot, which was interesting. Was it attached to anything? She hoped so. Shining the torch further, she saw a leg, a waist, a torso and finally a head and a chest. Interesting. The girl, who recognized from the picture in her file, was Laura Richardson. Gabe's patient. She was small, smaller than Jo, which was a good thing. It made her feel more secure, although she hoped she wouldn't scare the young girl. Only fourteen; she must be frightened. As one of the youngest pupils in the school, all of the older, bigger students must be very intimidating to her. Jo felt a pang of sympathy, and smiled brightly, although she thought that the child wouldn't be able to see past the bright light from the torch. Coming a little closer, she knelt on the floor, and spoke quietly, hoping not to disturb the girl. She didn't initiate any physical contact; for one thing, she hated it herself, and the other being that Laura really couldn't stand it. More than Jo. She could tolerate it; didn't (usually) have panic attacks. Laura, apparently, would scream and run away, so Jo made sure not to do that.

She noticed that Laura had been drawing, something Jo liked to do when stressed. She kept a cushion, a blanket and a sketchpad (with pencils) under her desk, so when stressed she could curl up and draw. It was very calming, although if she had had a psychiatric condition, there was no way she'd have been accepted to St. Dympha's. She wasn't that skilled. Looking curiously at Laura, she continued smiling - to seem less like an attacker; just friendly - and sat cross-legged. " Hi! I'm Jo... Are you okay? You seem sad. " Jo flashed her torch up and down the corridor, checking that there was nobody else there; or if these was, nobody that wanted to hurt them, and paused when the light landed on another girl, who she also recognized. The youngest student at the school; Francesca, an elective mute and Laura's roommate. " Are you okay, Francesca? It's Jo... This is Laura. Come and join us, if you want! " Turning the torch down so it didn't burn the other girls eyes, she set it so it was facing her and Laura, but not blinding them. Just enough so they could see each others figures.

[Laura Richardson]

Laura had wondered about the other girl in her room, who didn’t seem to speak. That was alright, Laura had decided. She wouldn’t get emotionally close to anyone who didn’t talk to her, right? She wasn’t so sure, so she’d just smiled awkwardly and fallen asleep in the end. And now here she was. Maybe she wanted to be friends? The though made Laura’s stomach flip. NO. She wasn’t allowed friends, they’d die and she seemed nice, not that it made much difference. She didn’t want to kill anyone.

Looking up, startled, Laura saw Jo and wondered if now would be a moment to try and run away. So far grown ups had never failed to be at least a little bit cross to find her in places she was at night. Unless that place was bed. In which case they didn’t seem to mind as much. Laura wondered if she should apologise now or wait to find out what she’d done. “I…” Laura stared at Jo as if she had two heads. “I’m… a little bit. Sad, I mean. I… had some bad dreams.” What had she said that for? Nobody had asked…

So that was her room mate’s name. Laura made a mental note of it and sniffed, trying to smile at the other girl. She nodded at Jo’s suggestion. At least she wasn’t the only one alone with a grown up. Laura observed the graphite along her hand, instead of looking at Francesca. She probably didn’t want the whole world staring at her; at least Laura didn’t think she would. She could be wrong, she supposed. It was funny how being out of bed had never caused her any trouble until she’d been ‘discovered’. Mostly due to the fact she hadn’t had a bed, but still. Laura watched Francesca’s knees, just in case she decided to move. Just to be ready.

[Francesca von Hannesburg]

Francesca froze at the sound of footsteps. They'd get caught! And then she'd be locked in the room with no-one else in it and there would be people outside all the time, and... and... As the bright beam of light appeared around the corner, her heart jumped. Fire! no... it was a woman with a torch. The other girl seemed afraid – her muscles stiffened like she wanted to run, and Francesca reacted accordingly, tensing, ready to flee if she was spotted, or if anyone made any sudden movements towards her. Her fingers dug into her arm, but her fleecy, warm hoody padded out her body, and her nails didn't hurt her at all. She hugged herself, trying so hard not to be seen that she bruised her legs, pinning them to her body.
She hadn't recognised the woman until she spoke. It was Dr Hudson, the yellow woman, the therapist. The one she'd liked. She was still being nice, and Francesca didn't know what to do. She'd assumed Doctor Hudson was being nice because she had to be, just like Francesca was there because she had to be. But it seemed the yellow woman was nice outside the therapy room as well, something that caused Francesca to relax slightly, but stayed huddled in the shadows. She didn't know whether or not she wanted to be noticed. Doctor Hudson wouldn't get them into trouble, would she? Or would she turn out to be just like her old psychiatrist? He had always been annoyed when he found her breaking the rules.
Laura spoke now, but didn't say anything that interested Francesca. She'd known the blonde was having strange dreams: it was what had woken her up, after all. She was fascinated by Dr Hudson, though. The woman seemed to be genuinely kind, not at all bothered about breaking the rules, something Francesca was unfamiliar with. Her father and uncle had been very keen on rules. She'd been hit when she'd disobeyed them.
Jo spoke again, calling out Francesca's name. She winced away, but when the woman didn't seem to be angry with her either, she edged out of the shadows. The torchlight burned her eyes, and she flinched, squinting her eyes until the torch moved, taking the edge off the pain. Laura wasn't looking at her; she was gazing intently at the graphite on her hand, and Francesca did the same, staring down at her big white trainers. She knelt there, half in shadow, unsure whether or not to go to the two down the corridor, acutely aware that her hands were shaking. Doctor Hudson seemed nice, but she wanted Francesca to speak, and Francesca didn't want to do that. Well, she amended her thought, she wanted to, but they'd told her she shouldn't. She'd tried to burn them, so the words would leave her, but it hadn't worked. She'd been taken away, but the psychiatrist had told her that they hadn't been consumed by the fire, and he wouldn't lie to her about that.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

Jo smiled encouragingly at Laura, hoping she would look sympathetic and like she was listening, rather than a maniac. Maniacs were bad, generally, and people would shy away from others that looked like one. So she avoided that, generally. She was almost completely sure that she wasn't, but sometimes people could jump to ridiculous conclusions. Noticing that Laura was looking at her slightly strangely, she toned down the smile a little, and listened carefully. This would be a bad time to tune out, she was sure. Apparently, Laura was sad, because she'd had bad dreams. Jo could empathize; she had nightmares herself. Not often, but they were scary when she did. Also, she knew what it was like to be sad. Waiting to reply to the small, scared child until she was sure Francesca was okay, she watched the other girl carefully. No speech from her - yet - in therapy, or reported in day-to-day life. She hadn't spoken for around a year now; the notes in her file were unclear of the exact times, but a year was a heck of a long time. She had encountered other children that had been silent for longer, but they had been severely abused, usually sexually. Same as Francesca, although she didn't know the full extent of the abuse, yet. She was going to find out though, Jo had decided. Then she'd cure her, make her better, and then everything would be good.

She wondered what Laura had been dreaming about. Presumably, her uncle or her father? Being evil? Jo didn't believe in evil, really. She believed in good and bad people (in fact, sixty-six point six recurring of her patients, so far, were bad), but she didn't believe that anyone could be evil unless they enjoyed inflicting pain on others, which she didn't think Laura did. Nor did Francesca, her only patient that didn't have a diagnosis of sadism; not that Jo minded that. Or did she? The idea that she enjoyed pain confused her. Surely you weren't supposed to enjoy pain? Almost certainly not. She cleared her mind of all sex related thoughts and thought about what to say next. Should she encourage Francesca to come over and join them? Or let her stay where she was? This wasn't a very nice place to talk, really. People could come out and give them odd looks.

Thinking about her dilemma for a minute, Jo made a snap decision. Now she had her new kettle in her room (hidden under her desk, so students couldn't throw hot water around), she could invite them both back to her therapy room. They could have tea! Or...hot chocolate. Tea and coffee seemed like something older people liked. No; she was just as old as them. Something more emotionally mature people liked. They often seemed to read the newspaper and drink tea; at least in books. But hot chocolate was as good as tea, really. " Would you both like to have some hot chocolate? I have some... " Jo blushed, worried that she was sounding stupid. " I mean, I have tea as well! And coffee... I mean, it's not nice, but you might like it! " She looked at both the girls, making sure that they understood that the invitation was for both of them. It could be quite interesting; them all spending some time together. Maybe they'd all make some new friends!

[Laura Richardson]

Laura looked at Francesca’s shoes and down at her own bare toes. She’d never thought of that. Mind you, she wasn’t keen on shoes to begin with, they pinched your toes and made you fall over. She didn’t bother with shoes any time she was allowed to get away with it. “I… like hot chocolate.” Laura watched Jo, who seemed slightly more likely to touch her than Francesca, and tried to smile. She wasn’t sure she’d quite managed it, so she stopped and stared at the carpet instead. This didn’t seem to be a bad night, so far. Apart from the bad dreams.

Laura prepared to follow Jo, wondering if her office was near her psychiatrist psychologist person’s. And if that was true, maybe he had hot chocolate too? Laura almost giggled. He didn’t seem like a very hot chocolatey sort of person, more of a coffee drinker. But coffee at this time of night was probably bad. It might make her climb walls or something, and as fun as that sounded, Laura wanted to sleep. Although… Laura’s stomach twisted again. If she had nightmares she could hurt people like that as well, which was bad. Always bad. She stared down at her drawing and decided it wasn’t exactly the best thing she’d ever drawn, but it had made her feel a little bit better, so maybe that didn’t matter so much.

Her nightmare had been a bad one. She’d been remembering the night before she was taken away from her dad and her uncle the first time. That had been a very bad night. Laura and her uncle had a system for dealing with Laura’s dad. After school uncle Kenneth came to get her and then helped her make some food. And then he’d leave her while he went next door to do some things and then come back to check she hadn’t electrocuted herself or anything and then he went to work. When Laura’s daddy turned up, which wasn’t that often, Laura had to go and sit in her wardrobe. Laura knew the exact moment her dad’s car turned the corner of the street, would take her drawing and run upstairs until Uncle Kenneth came. That night her daddy had walked.

[Francesca von Hannesburg]

Laura wanted hot chocolate. Jo obviously did – the mere idea seemed to make her happy. Francesca could still feel wetness on her cheeks, and she didn't like it. Brushing one sleeve over her face, she inched closer, still wary of them. Biting her lip, she edged down the corridor until she was only a metre away from the other two, her green eyes reflecting the torchlight. She stared at them, wondering what to do. Laura was getting ready to walk off with Dr Hudson, and Francesca began to wonder what to do. What if they expected her to announce that she was coming? What if they'd wanted her to go back to bed so they could have hot chocolate on their own? Chewing down on her lip, she very,very slowly straightened up, watching the yellow woman carefully as she did so.
Her head tilted to one side, and her ginger hair fell into her eyes. She impatiently swept it away, watching, waiting for the other two to make a decision. She hoped she'd made it clear that she was coming. She liked Doctor Hudson, and the other girl seemed so sad. Francesca wanted to make her happy, and if that meant hot chocolate, she'd have hot chocolate. Rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans, she stood in the corridor, trembling, waiting for the rejection to come. If they told her to leave, she would. She might cry when she got back, but she wouldn't let them see her sadness. She had already been caught crying over Laura, they might laugh if she cried again in one night.
Francesca suddenly turned her head away. The light was hurting her eyes. She kept thinking it was a fire, and gettingg excited, then realising it wasn't, and each time she did, the disappointment cut a little deeper. She wasn't even allowed matches here, and she hated every minute of it. It wasn't like she was going to burn anyone. Just because of that one time, she wasn't allowed the fire, and she hadn't been sleeping properly ever since. She wondered if Dr Hudson would let her burn things. It wasn't like she would tell anyone, after all.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

Jo hummed happily again when both girls agreed to come. This could be fun! She assumed that they both wanted hot chocolate, although Francesca hadn't agreed verbally, but tea was...just for old people. Both would want sugary drinks, right? She'd have to get her mute to point to either hot chocolate or tea (or coffee), and then they could have an informal group therapy session! Would Gabe approve of this? She was stealing his patient, but... It was for a good cause. It would help Francesca make friends, she'd be less bored, and they'd all get sugary hot drinks! It crossed her mind that a group therapy session in the middle of the night was probably...not conventional, but it would be fine. As long as both girls got some sleep at some point, anyway. She wondered what would happen if they all fell asleep in the therapy rooms, together, but thought that that could end badly. Especially if Morph or Riordan came in. Then they'd say something about both group sex and lesbians; both of which were embarrassing and untrue. Well; Jo wasn't sure about the girls sexuality's, but she was quite sure that hot chocolate wouldn't result in sex of any sort. She hoped not, anyway. Being attracted to two of her students was bad enough.


" Come on then! I'll make hot chocolate... " With that, Jo turned and walked slowly in the opposite direction. Luckily, the therapy rooms were close enough to the main buildings; their journey would be about five minutes at the most. It might get awkward if it was any longer, seeing as only two of the three participants would talk. Jo didn't want to talk for a while though. She hummed to herself again, only turning once to check that both the girls were behind her. She'd take them to her apartment rather than the therapy rooms, as it was nearer, but she didn't want to for a few reasons:

• It was probably illegal and it was against the rules of the school to have students in the staff dorms.
  
• Gabe might wake up and use his scary voice.
  
• They wouldn't all fit under her coffee table, and there was no hot chocolate in her room

[/ul]

No, the therapy rooms would be better. She didn't speak for the whole journey but merely wandered, spinning occasionally to the tune of her own humming. Marching to the beat of her own drum... Jo laughed to herself as she entered the main therapy building, the girls still following and probably looking mildly confused as to why their therapist and head teacher was humming and spinning. Ah well. They'd get used to her, hopefully. Most people adjusted, after a while and some coaxing. It had been a quick journey; Jo feeling quite hyperactive and walking (and spinning) quickly through the dorms, and it seemed like no time when she was pushing open the door to her own office. Turning on the lights, she dimmed them before the girls entered, not wanting to blind them. That wouldn't be good.


Immediately going behind her desk, she crouched down and flicked on her kettle. It was already filled with water (she had been overexcited and filled it up earlier) and she had mugs and various drinks in her filing cabinet. Unlocking it with the key around her neck, she smiled at both the girls as she pulled out a large selection of tea, herbal tea, coffee and hot chocolate, plus three mugs. The only one that had been used so far was the hot chocolate; she had ruined it the first time and had to try again. Setting them out on the floor just outside of her desk, she climbed into the large space and called out to the girls: " Come, sit down. I have tea and stuff... Which do you want? Don't worry, Francesca. You can just point. " She didn't want to make the girl feel obliged to speak and cry again; that would be mean. " Oh... I don't have any milk though. 'Cause it would go sour... Gabe said I wasn't allowed a fridge in here. " Fair.


Looking around under her desk, she sighed. It was a large desk, for sure, but there was no way all three would fit under there. All three of them detested physical contact, Laura especially, and it could be bad if they all tried to squeeze in. There was room for two to sit without touching, if they squished up. And maybe one could sit outside? Maybe she should volunteer to sit outside... But she liked it here. There were cushions, and drawings on the walls. She decided that she'd stay until she'd made the drinks, and then sit outside.[/font]

[Laura Richardson]

As Laura followed the nice psychologist lady and the other girl she was in her room with who didn’t talk – Francesca, Laura reminded herself. That was her name. Francesca. – She wondered whether psychologist people usually invited you for hot chocolate in the middle of the night. Somehow Laura suspected this wasn’t the case, but after the dream she’d had, she was perfectly happy to go with whatever the twirling lady said. She joined in with twirling a couple of times to see if it would help. It didn’t, but she enjoyed it anyway.

“Um…” Laura glanced at Francesca, hoping to have whatever she picked, before realising that might be a little bit rude, and gnawing her fingers. Well, she liked tea sometimes. But not now. And coffee was just icky… “Hot chocolate, please?” She rubbed her bare toes on the carpet and stared at the floor. She wondered if it would be rude to go back to drawing. She wanted to, it was what she did in the middle of the night when she felt upset and tired and couldn’t sleep or she had a bad dream. People didn’t mind it, it was quiet. Not like screaming which just got you hissed at and then you had to drink some disgusting thing which made you feel weird on the kitchen floor.

Laura looked suspiciously at Jo. She didn’t think the nice person would give them something that made them go to sleep, but she wasn’t sure. Laura knew she could be wrong. Maybe she wouldn’t drink much of it. Or only if it tasted nice. Because that other stuff had made her feel sick before she drifted off, although that might have been because her uncle would help her first, or just give her a knife and watch her. Why was she thinking about all of that? Laura shook her head slowly and tried to pay attention to what was going on around her. She got all slow and dopey when she was tired.

Laura sat near the desk and smiled tiredly. This was nice. Wasn’t this nice? But weird. Her foster family just gave her a pained look and told her the time and to go to bed if they found her up. She looked over at Francesca and smiled at her as well. Maybe their dorm was just bad for sleeping or something.

[Francesca von Hannesburg]

Francesca followed Jo through the corridors, wondering exactly what kind of school she was going to here. Teachers didn't usually offer you hot chocolate in the middle of the night, did they? Then again, she'd never been to a boarding school. Maybe things were more relaxed here, as everyone was living together in the same house. Still, it didn't seem all that usual, to be honest. Not that she was complaining. If it hadn't been Jo, it almost certainly would have been some huge guy telling them to get back to bed, maybe even trying to physically force them.

When Jo started twirling, Francesca frowned. When Laura started, she wrapped her arms around herself and carried on towards her therapy room, hoping she wouldn't be expected to twirl as well. She didn't fancy walking around the corridors spinning in circles. For one thing, she'd get dizzy, and for another, if they were caught, she might get punished. Did it count as inappropriate behavior? Jo was doing it, so it couldn't be too bad, but she still wasn't sure. Besides, she simply didn't want to. Nothing wrong with that.

When they reached the room, Jo went straight behind her desk, and Francesca shut the door behind her quietly, then followed the two blondes around the big wooden desk. As she did so, she carefully glanced over it. The pen was back there... Jo wasn't watching. With a deft movement, Francesca swept it off the table and into the baggy pocket of her hoody, curling up beside the wall so it didn't fall out. She watched the kettle boil for a little while, then shuffled a little closer, staring at the selection of drinks. She hadn't even known there was such as thing as elderflower tea, and she'd never tried most of the herbal ones. Some of them looked plain weird; others look nice.

She debated silently between having cherry tea and hot chocolate, but when Jo announced that there was no milk, she made up her mind. She gingerly leaned forwards, tapped the cherry tea twice, then recoiled quickly, back to her spot against the wall. It felt safer there. She had a clear path to the door.

[Dr. Josephine Hudson]

Jo was slightly disappointed when the two girls didn't join her under the desk. She'd never really thought they would - they both appeared to be worse about touch then her, and that was saying something - but it'd have been nice. Cozy. Suddenly, she realized how awkward this situation could turn out to be; Francesca didn't talk. Laura was very quiet. She hated awkward situations, had been in them many times, mainly at school. If you told people interesting things - like the largest known prime number, which was 4,053,946 digits, discovered in November 2005 - they tended to go very quiet and stare at you. Jo wasn't really sure what she'd do if the two girls went quiet and stared at her.

Actually, she realized, she knew what she'd do if they were both to go quiet, as they were doing that already. But that was in a I'm-tired way, not a I-dislike-you way (there were different ways of starting, and Jo was proud to say that she'd learnt how to distinguish the above two). Quietly, she turned the kettle on and leaned back against the inside of her desk, stroking the sheets of paper that were covering the walls - and ceiling - of the small space. Most of them were scribbles, but there were a few pictures from where she'd sat down and drawn something that interested her. All of the pictures had straight lines, perfectly drawn edges, and most were symmetrical. Symmetry, Jo knew, was beautiful.

Smiling at Francesca, she opened the box, which was still sealed, and removed a teabag, dropping it into one of the cups she'd taken from the filing cabinet. Hot chocolate was a little messier, however, and she had to be careful not to drop the spoon as she maneuvered it from the tin into the mug. A little bit of the brown powder sprinkled onto the floor, and she rubbed it, biting her lip when it spread into the carpet. That looked like a stain, which wasn't something Gabe approved of. If she'd been the type of person that swore, she would have. Instead, she experimentally poured some water over the carpet, from her water filter.

Interesting... It created a sort of...paste. You could also call it a disgusting brown sludge, but Jo preferred paste. Hmmm... " This counts as art therapy, right? " she asked, grabbing a piece of white paper and pouring more of the powder onto it, before splashing some water. The water soaked through the paper, but the same sludge appeared. She smiled, fascinated by the new substance she appeared to have created, and stuck her fingers in the mess. " I hope this comes off... " She really did. Carpet cleaners cost a lot. After coating her two index fingers, Jo tentatively touched her nose, giggling at the bizarre feeling. Pushing the paper, tub of hot chocolate and water towards her students, she poked a few of the drawings strung up around beneath her desk, marveling at the brown spots. This was fun. Hopefully the girls thought so as well. Suddenly, Jo was struck by a thought: food coloring. " Do you want to use food coloring as well? It makes pretty drawings..."

[Laura Richardson]

Laura watched as the Doctor Hudson she didn’t know rubbed paste into the carpet. Laura had got told off for doing the same things at her foster parent’s house, but if a grown up was doing it, it was probably allowed. Glancing over to Francesca, she was just in time to see her hand vanish into the pocket of her hoodie. Laura wondered if she should have chosen cherry tea too. Nobody had really said….

Ignoring the way her stomach twisted, Laura continued to watch the doctor and wondered if there was anything she should do. Except sleep. But she couldn’t do that, she’d hurt people… In the end Laura settled for following everyone else’s lead. Food colouring? Well, if it made pretty pictures, Laura was sold. She nodded gingerly in case that wasn’t the right answer and glanced back at Francesca, hoping she’d done the right thing. She hoped she hadn’t woken Francesca up when she got up, Laura hadn’t realised that might have happened. She wanted to say sorry, but the other girl looked uncomfortable, so Laura kept her mouth shut.

Watching the adult, Laura hoped this was allowed. She didn’t like shouting. She really didn’t like being in trouble. She just wanted to do the right thing… and the right thing would be being at home with her uncle, sleeping on the kitchen table. A wave of homesickness overtook her and her nails went back in her mouth. She was doing nothing right here, it was only a matter of time before somebody died. The chilling thought made her curl her legs up on the chair and she gave Francesca another glance. Did she look pale? Could do.

Laura couldn’t leave, though. That wasn’t allowed. Instead she settled for keeping her eyes closely on everyone else… and having a piercing scream at the ready in case they keeled over.