to the ending of another day [jess, lorelei]

[Yvonne Olzon]

Yvonne closed her eyes, interlinked her fingers and stretched towards the ceiling, smiling as she felt her muscles loosen. Jess wasn't here at the moment, and there was no chance of everyone coming in to bother her, so she had decided to do some practice. Allowing her body to recoil from the stretch, she lifted one leg carefully, feeling her muscles stretch and loosen as she raised it.She let the leg down again, rolled her shoulders. She was getting impatient again, working herself to hard, too fast. She needed to warm up properly. Swinging one arm across her body and holding it at the elbow with her others, she stretched her upper arms, counting to ten in her head.

She wondered where Jess was. Hopefully, not killing herself again. She still wasn't sure why she had saved her the first time. She'd never really thought about it; at one point, she'd considered running, but instead she'd helped. She was pleased about it, but also slightly irritated. She was yet to receive a proper thank you for saving Jess' life; all she'd got was swearwords and blame, but Jess had been hysterical. Even if she didn't want to give one, Yvonne was fairly sure the shrinks would make Jess thank her. She wasn't decided whether she was happy or sad about that. She had been the centre of attention for a while afterwards, and she'd hated every minute of it. All the same, it was nice to get credit... She had saved Jess' life, after all.

Pulling one leg up behind her and stretching her thigh muscles, eyes narrowed in concentration as she stood, lost in her thoughts. Hopefully, Jess wouldn't be back for a while, anyway. She wanted some peace and quiet, wanted to be left alone for a bit.

[Jessica Air]

Jess kept her head down, shoulders hunched. She would not have been recognizable as a dancer to anyone that didn't already know her; her posture was awful, her clothes baggy and ill-fitting. Her usual outfit - which mostly consisted of tracksuit bottoms and an extra-large jumper - had been left at her dorm. Apparently, the nursing staff were so busy, they couldn't go and get her some normal clothes, which meant she had a walk of shame though the school in asylum-type clothes. Fitting, seeing as she was actually in an asylum. Jessica had insisted on the white, baggy outfit (exactly like on in a film about a mental hospital, the ones given to suicide risks) was at least a large. As a result, the fabric hung off her waif-like frame. The sleeves were almost, but not quite, long enough to cover her left wrist; it was bandaged, most of the way up. A plaster was on the same arm, on the top of her hand, where the IV had been; the memory of it made her shudder. It wasn't worth attempting suicide if she had to spend time in a hospital.

As she neared her room, she slowed, not particularly wanting to see Yvonne again. There was nothing but embarrassment waiting for her; hopefully, the other girl would be out, somewhere. Practising in the dance studio, the lucky thing. She had been deemed too unstable to be allowed in that room again, the place where she'd smashed the same mirror twice in little more than a week. Jess wondered what had happened after she'd left. Who had cleaned up her blood from the oak floor? Was it still staining the dark wood? Maybe the others were in class, right that minute, dancing around the spot and pretending it had never existed. No, she doubted that. If the stain was still there, Morph would be making it obvious to everyone.

The thought of him made angry tears spring to her eyes, and she wiped them quickly, before anyone noticed. She had been crying a lot since that had happened, only three days ago. They'd said she could call her parents, but she'd declined. After all, what would they care? They'd sent her away; why would they want to hear her news? Jessica was being deliberately melodramatic - as always - determined to get sympathy from somewhere, even if it was only from herself. Still, she was an excellent source of sympathy.

Taking a quick breath, she opened the door, entering the small room and inwardly sighing as she saw Yvonne. Great. And she was dancing; just to rub in the fact that Jess couldn't. Without a word, she dropped her small bag of toiletries on the bed, sitting down and looking at her knees, unsure what to say, or if she even should say anything. Maybe not. There was a minutes silence (where Yvonne was probably praying that she wouldn't speak, unsocial bitch) before she managed to come up with words. "Um...thanks. And sorry for...yeah." Jess began to wish she'd rehearsed something before coming back to her room. "It's um... Sorry," she finished lamely. Her sentence had been heading in the direction of 'it's not your fault', but she'd stopped herself short. It was bad to lie, right? Despite Yvonne saving her life and everything, she was still mad about the laptop incident, where her darling roommate had let slip to Morph that she couldn't read.

Sighing, she stood, deliberating between changing her clothes or sorting out her noticeboard. The noticeboard was more important, she decided, and knelt on the floor beside her bed, pulling out a few posters that had been crumpled up in the middle of everything else under there. They had been bought by her parents to 'encourage her recovery'; well, she wanted to recover. Jess knelt on her bed, taking off all her posters of Twiggy (which hurt) and sticking up a picture of the problems anorexia caused; inability to have children, heart disease, decreased brain function. There were several other posters in the small pile, but she sat on the bed again, leaning against the headboard feeling weary. God, this was hard. It'd be easier if Yvonne wasn't here... She'd change her clothes later.

[Lorelei Wyatt]

Lorelei's hands were wrapped around the shoulder strap of her bag, her thumb caressing the rough material in an unconscious gesture designed to give comfort. It didn't work, but she continued, the repetitive movement giving her something to concentrate on that wasn't the receptionist's blithely cheerful voice.

The woman was talking to her, showing her maps and bits of paper that she wasn't sure she should take. So she didn't. She simply stood there, clinging to her bag so tightly the skin on her knuckles looked fit to burst, and stared at the receptionist with with wide, frightened eyes, trying to control the shaking in her knees.

The new school was huge, ridiculously so. Surely it didn't have that many kids living here? She winced at the thought. Maybe it did, and they'd all talk to her. Maybe she'd be the only one who didn't talk, and they'd all think of her as a freak. And her roommates, what of them? Would they expect her to speak to them? They were both dancers, which meant at least they had something in common. On the other hand, if they didn't get on, they would have to go to dance classes together. What if they hated her, and they had to dance together?

Lorelei winced at the thought. Last time she'd had to share a room, people had yelled at her, telling her to keep the noise down, not to scream over silly little nightmares. They'd complain to the nurses, who would then come to Lorelei's bed and talk gently to her, and give her sleep medicine, and she'd go around the next day feeling groggy and drugged, unable to think properly, so they'd stopped. And the nightmares had returned. Lorey's hands tightened on the strap of her bag, the whiteness of the knuckles now spreading all the way down her fingers, her whole body tensing.

Apparently the receptionist wasn't as oblivious as all that. Giving Lorey a comforting smile, she indicated to follow and began to walk away, her shoes clicking loudly on the highly polished wooden floors. Pursing her lips, her newest charge followed, trying desperately not to make a sound, treading as lightly as possible, her head still reeling from the sheer size of the place. It was impossible that she'd ever fit in here. She'd preferred it at home, but they said they couldn't cope. The children at school hadn't been nice. Children were supposed to be nice, weren't they? She remembered children from her old school being nasty to her. Her mum had said then that it was because they secretly liked her. Thinking about it now, that didn't seem right, but there was nothing left to say. Her mother was dead.

Her eyes prickled. Swiping angrily across her face with her thumb, she concentrated on following the receptionist, counting her steps, trying to keep in time with the older woman's brisk pace. They went down a corridor (31 steps) took a left, (70 steps) up a staircase (14 steps) and left again. Fifty three steps down this corridor, the woman turned and pointed to a door on the left. With a quite smile and whispered words of encouragement, she knocked on the door, and left Lorey standing outside, blinking as though she had just been doused in cold water.

But there was no way to go but forwards. Tentatively, she pushed the door open and entered, to find a pair of girls. one was sat on the bed, her blonde hand hanging over her face. She was wearing a strange outfit. The other was stood by the end of the bed, watching her roommate. Lorey wasn't sure what to do; she appeared to have walked in on an emotional moment. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, and she winced. Idiot! Make yourself look like an idiot in front of them!

Biting her lip, she looked around wildly for something to do. There were two beds free, and Lorey headed for the one nearest the door. Easier escape that way. Dropping her bag, she sat on the bed and watched the two girls, wondering which was which. She'd seen the little sign saying their names; Yvonne Olzon and Jessica Air. Jessica suited the blonde one more, she decided, looking at them. Then she realised she was staring, and people didn't like being stared at. So she looked at her knees, suddenly finding them absolutely fascinating, and hoping that Yvonne and Jess would leave her alone. Maybe they'd just ignore her. Hopefully they would. They seemed to be doing something important now, from the look on both their faces. Lorelei dared to look up again, peeking out from between curtains of blonde hair, and gave each one a quick, shy smile. Then she retreated again, waiting for the verdict.

[Yvonne Olzon]

Yvonne spun around when the door opened, and froze to see Jess stood there, looking smaller and more pathetic than Yvonne had ever seen her. Unsure what to do, she stood there, resting one hand on the bedframe, watching her roommate cautiously. The white hospital clothes she had been given were far too big, making her look even skinnier than normal, if such a thing were possible. She wondered whether to point this out, but was slightly worried it wouldn't help Jess' current state, so she kept her mouth tightly shut, watching the blonde critically as she entered the room.

Then Jess spoke, and Yvonne shrugged at her, turning to continue her stretches. "Don't worry about it. I wasn't just going to stand there and watch you die," she told the wall frostily. She opened her mouth to say something else, but no words came out. She couldn't bring herself to say it... Biting down on her lip, she whirled around again, snapping to Jess, "Sorry I told him about the laptop, OK? I was just... I was..." she snapped her fingers, searching for the words to explain herself. Then it occurred to her that she shouldn't be explaining herself to this whiny bitch anyway, shouldn't feel the need to justify her actions. It wasn't like there was a bond between them; all she'd done was hold some scraps of material over her arms and waited for help. But she couldn't stop the words coming out now. "You pissed me off and I mentioned it because I wanted to annoy you and I should have guessed Morph was going to be such a prick about it, and then you went and-"

The door opened, and she turned, her tirade cutting off mid-sentence. A blonde girl stood there, holding a bag and looking slightly shocked. Yvonne scowled at her. Not only was she having a mortifying emotional crisis over her bitch of a roommate, it had been witnessed by another girl. She looked at the blonde again, taking in the bag, the posture, the look of fear in her eyes... no. No fucking way. "We've got a new roommate?" she breathed, disbelievingly. "Well, that's just fucking brilliant. As if I didn't have enough to cope with."

Turning away, she sat on the bed and curled up against the wall, watching Jess rearrange her posters. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to be somewhere, wanted to move rooms, go somewhere quiet where she could be alone... Yvonne bit down on her lip again, trying to get her emotions under control. She'd never been this damn emotional before, what had happened to her? If this was what it was like saving someone's life, no way was she ever doing it again.

[Jessica Air]

Jessica resisted the urge to glare at Yvonne. 'I wasn't just going to stand there and watch you die'? So that was the only reason she'd been 'saved', then. "Good to know," she muttered sarcastically. As her roommate turned away, she glared freely, watching her stretch with envy. The infirmary staff had expressively forbidden any exercise for a few days, mainly because she'd managed to lose a pound in the three days she was with them. That probably had something to do with her pillow-case, which she'd been filling with food every mealtime. The staff were going to go nuts when they found that... Jess pushed the thought out of her mind. She'd jump off that bridge when it came to it. Anyway, they wouldn't be that mean to her: she was suicidal and depressed (apparently). They had to be nice.

At the apology, she sat upright from her position on the bed, staring. Was Yvonne saying sorry? Jess stared, incredulously, wondering what the staff had started putting in the food while she'd been away. Definitely something, seeing as Yvonne - queen bitch - was apparently emoting. There was a sick sense of pleasure in her stomach when she noticed that the other girl sounded guilty, ashamed of her actions. It was only just that she was upset, considering what Morph had to done to Jess, as a result of her actions. He'd told Rio and said things that made her cringe as she remembered it.

At the accusation that she'd 'pissed off' Yvonne, she scowled. How had she done that? Jess cast her mind back to the chat session, but couldn't remember saying anything that bitchy. Of course, there was the very likely chance that she'd breathed the wrong way, judging by her roommates tolerance levels. "I went and what?" she demanded, ignoring the open door aside from a brief look, checking it wasn't Morph. "Punched that bloody mirror in class? Or are you referring to when I cut my wrists?" Anger was stopping her from realizing that her hissed words weren't the most sensible. "Both of were a result of you 'wanting to annoy me'? Yeah, you should have guessed he'd be such a fucking jerk about it. Have you ever spoken to him?"

Standing up, she knelt beside her dresser, opening and closing the drawers with quick, angry movements. Ripping off her top, she slipped on a jumper, exchanging her trousers just as quickly for some jeans (a step up from tracksuit bottoms, she thought, seeing as they were tight and made her legs look that much more disgusting). It was tempting to throw the stupid hospital outfit directly out of the window, but they were locked. Pity, she could have jumped. "And he wasn't just a prick about it," she added, standing and spinning around to face Yvonne (and the girl looked slightly scared on the bed). "He threatened to tell everyone he could, unless I -" Jess broke off, remembered humiliation staining her cheeks. It was strangely relieving to rant about it, she realized. Never mind the fact that she was probably going to get slapped. " -did stuff. And then he told someone, anyway, and they were both BASTARDS."

Her sudden tears were a mixture of both anger and misery, and she stalked across the room, glaring at the small girl sitting on the bed like she had a right to be there. Yvonne also sounded annoyed at the fact that they had a new roommate, and Jess glared at her. "Enough to cope with? Don't bother 'coping' with me, I'd be happier if you hadn't fucked everything up." Everything being a suicide attempt? She didn't know if she had actually wanted to die, but it was nice to yell at someone she knew wasn't going to make her eat her own hair in retaliation. Morph - and Layla's - first threat still lingered in her mind, bitterly. Yvonne might slap her, but that was the most (hopefully). And this frightened mouse of a girl in front of her wasn't likely to do any harm. She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes at Lorey.

"What the fuck are you doing in here? Just get lost, okay? I've already got her -" with a thumb jerked over her shoulder in the direction of Yvonne "- to put up with. I don't need some whiny little brat taking up space, got it?" Usually, she'd have been a little more...accommodating. Nicer, maybe. But she was annoyed and wanted to vent her frustration to somebody, never mind if that somebody was someone that had never done her any harm. A somebody she didn't even know the name of. It'd be nicer if she could yell at Morph, but she wasn't that much of an idiot. That would probably result in some new and inventive torture for her, something to do with hair and blood. No, it was Layla that fed her her own body parts. Not him.

((Wow, major PMS
and PTSD attack...))

[Lorelei Wyatt]

Lorey stared mutely at the blonde girl, her eyes wide in horror. She was going to have to share with them? No, no, no! she shrank back, edging along the bed away from them, biting her lip and raising her hands defensively to her chest. No... they were horrible, the blonde was so loud and thin (Lorelei stared in horror for a moment at her cheekbones) and the other one was just terrifyingly scary, glaring and scowling like that. Lorelei pulled her legs up to her chest and shuffled back on the bed, huddling in the corner and staring around with eyes like a hunted animals; with, terrified.

She opened her mouth helplessly, staring between the two. Why did she have to walk in on this? These two had obviously had something happen - was still happening - that had them both stressed out, and Lorey had walked right into the centre of it. And now they were taking it out on her. In a desperate attempt to answer them, she pointed to the bag, then herself. I live here, now. She looked imploringly at Jess, her eyes wide. Jess seemed more likely to give in than Yvonne did, less likely to carry on swearing and yelling at her. Or maybe it would be better if she avoided eye contact completely? People tended to ignore you when you did that, but sometimes they got annoyed. It was rude, they'd told her. Unsure what to do, Lorelei stared, wide-eyed at Jess, praying, hoping that she would forget about her. That both of them would.

After a second, she broke eye contact with Jess, allowing her gaze to wander around the room. The skinny one had been pulling posters off the wall when she'd entered, replacing photos of beautiful dancers with horrifyingly skinny women. Lorelei didn't understand, but then, this girl was scarily thin, so maybe she liked seeing those people. The wall above the other girl's wall was plastered with posters of scary-looking men and women, although a lot of them had nice artwork on them. There were also a lot of photos of dancers there. Lorelei guessed that most of the posters were musicians, although she hadn't heard of any of them. She didn't have any posters to put on her wall. Maybe she should get some? You didn't have to have them, did you? No... and she didn't really know what she'd put up there. She didn't know the names of any dancers, and she didn't really know what kind of music she liked.

Sorry it's so awful, I've been sick, but I thought I really needed to get this up, since it's been a while.