JUST A GIRL - open

[ryan ann mcgreen]

This was ridiculous. Only a few days had passed since Ryan’s parents shipped her off to Rosedale Academy. There was absolutely no reason why Ryan should be at this stupid place, okay well maybe she did drink a little bit more than the average kid, but hey she had good reason. Hell Ryan wouldn’t even be in this stupid place if it weren’t for that girl who got her sent to jail for a night. Then her parents would still be oblivious to her drinking. Her dad would keep working 24/7 and her mom would stay locked up in her room like a zombie. Seriously if Ryan had to be sent away for help then so did her parents.

Ether way Ryan got sent to this idiotic place which meant that she’d have to deal with everything that came with it, meaning therapy. What were they expecting her to do? Go to this group therapy session and divulge all of her dirty little secrets and her deep dark past. It’s not like anybody really wanted to hear what happened to her brothers and how the rest of her family reacted to it. There wasn’t anything that would be that insightful to help the shrink figure out what was wrong with her. Besides they didn’t have to look too far obviously her problem was that she liked to drink too much, did they really need to know everything about her to figure that out?

Agitated from being forced to go to this therapy session and going without alcohol for a few days Ryan pulled on some clothes, even though she was against this whole therapy thing that didn’t mean she was going to break the habit of picking out cute clothes. Ever since Ryan could pick out her clothes she tried her best to avoid the hand-me-downs from her brothers, therefore developing a habit of no matter what looking the best she could. Now that she looked presentable Ryan sighed and kicked open the door to go to this therapy thing. Honestly Ryan would rather not go but all the staff keeps telling her is that if she is more cooperative then the quicker she could bust out of this place.

Walking down the hallway Ryan kept to herself with her head ducked causing her blond hair to cascade down her shoulders and some to fall into her face. There were a few people in the halls along the way, some stared at her probably because she was new and others just ignored her like she didn’t matter. They were different reactions than Ryan was used to. Back at home everyone avoided her at school and in public because they didn’t know how to react around her. There were people at parties that hung out with Ryan, but they were strictly party friends that knew nothing about her.

Finally she arrived at the door with THERAPY written across it in big letters. Sighing she pushed the door opened to reveal a small group of kids sitting in a circle of chairs, not all of them were filled yet. Some of the kids were talking amongst themselves, while the others were sulking around not willing to talk about anything. Honestly Ryan hasn’t been to Rosedale long enough to figure out where she belongs so she walked into the room ignore the curious new glances and sat in a chair that had a few empty ones surrounding it. The last thing that Ryan needed right now in the midst of her alcohol deprivation was some annoying kid asking her why she was at Rosedale Academy.

WORDS--- 602
STATUS--- finished
TAGGED--- open
OUTFIT--- clickers
NOTES--- feel free to join!

[cuyler cohen willam]

ALL WOUND UP, ON THE EDGE
terrified, sleep disturbed, petrified

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• • • • • • • • • • • RYAN MCGREEN ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Anxious seemed to be his ever lasting mood since coming to Rosedale, and while he was willingly seeking help for his problems he wasn’t feeling like he was going anywhere. The therapists had tried taking “baby steps”, which consisted of him being in the boy’s dorms rather than the girl’s. That, to him, was not a baby step. He didn’t even have a dorm mate yet and he was already having trouble sleeping knowing that he was on a floor with all men. It made him very nervous and very uncomfortable and it was hard to sleep when he was feeling like that. There were too many males around for his liking; he was constantly feeling vulnerable and at risk of something horrible happened. Cuyler knew that not every guy in the world wanted to hurt him just because his father had, but he couldn’t help but be afraid anyways. One couldn’t really blame him if they knew what had happened to him, which was nine years of rape from the man who was supposed to protect and nurture you. Obviously anyone who had been through something like that would have an issue or two to deal with, and his just so happened to be big issues. At least he was willing to admit that he had a problem, which he had been told was the first step to recovery. It was all bullshit to him, but whatever. He could go along with what they told him, but not with everything that they tried to do to “cure” him. He doubted he would ever be able to be completely comfortable around a guy. He doubted he would ever be comfortable enough to even cuddle with a girl. His childhood had messed him up pretty bad.

Cuyler tugged the sleeves of his grey patterned sweater, bringing them farther down his hands, which also had darker grey fingerless gloves. Even when it was boiling hot outside, Cuyler refused to wear a tee shirt due to his fear. He was anxious about people, specifically men, seeing too much skin. The racial mutt also had a pair of black jeans on and pale yellow Converse, as well as a green scarf that was loose around his neck. Blonde hair was lightly curled and a mess of tangles surrounding his face, which tried its best to appear calm and stoic. He was pretty good at hiding his true emotions and feelings from people. After all, he had hid what was truly happening from his mom for years and even when he had finally admitted to the abuse she hadn’t believed him. He was good at putting on a cold front, though he had found that his eyes always held a lot more expression than he preferred. He actually liked taking self portraits for that reason though, aside from being just slightly narcissistic. That and finding models was hard when you were too afraid to approach people. Photography was more therapeutic for Cuyler than his therapy sessions were, allowing for a much needed release that talking about his experiences could never do.

He kept tugging at his sleeves as he walked, camera around his neck and mind more than alert for people. He passed a few on his way to the therapy rooms, avoiding any accidental contact as if they had the Bubonic plague. He tried to make it seem like he simply didn’t like people, how well that was working out for him was beyond his guess. Finally coming to the therapy room doors, he slipped through them and closed it quietly behind him. Turning to see only a group of kids sitting in tables, he had to admit that he felt slightly relieved. Being alone in a room with someone bothered him in itself, and being in a room with too many people bugged him as well, but this was just the right volume. His dark blue eyes scanned the room before settling on a table with only one person occupying it, a girl. She looked pretty harmless, but in a place like this looks could be very deceiving. “Hey,”

[/color] he simply said as it sat down in the farthest chair from her. Even in a single syllable his exotic accent ringing through. He loved his accent and how unique it was. [/justify] [/blockquote]words: 718
outfit: this
lyrics: dream theatre, panic attack
notes: - - - [/blockquote]
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[ryan ann mcgreen]

It seemed kind of unfair to Ryan. She was 18 years old and still her parents were controlling her life. Well actually part of her punishment by the government for assault and underage drinking was to go to rehab, it just so happened that her parents chose Rosedale Academy to send her away to instead of some local shit hole. Even though Rosedale actually wasn’t that bad of a place to be Ryan would much rather be back at home hitting up different parties and going to different bars that didn’t mind serving to the underage crowd. Sitting in the therapy room with a headache that didn’t seem to go away wasn’t Ryan’s ideal way to be spending her day.

As she sat in the therapy room Ryan contemplated on a way to escape. Ryan had heard that they give some of the kids that are doing well a trip to the town nearby, but she doubted that she’d ever be able to get to the step of being allowed out of this place so she’d have to find another way around. Even though she hasn’t been at the Academy long she was certain that she could find a way out of the Academy to get to Rushlin. Her parents would be devastated, again, and the government would probably be looking for her to fulfill her sentence. All Ryan could think about was getting out of the Academy so she could drown her thoughts away with some kind of alcohol.

Just as she was devising a plan to sneak through the forest to Rushlin someone came to the table and sat down on the other side. All he said was a simple Hey but it caused Ryan to snap out of her stupor. He was an interesting kid. It appeared that he had found a way to try and cover just about every bit of skin he could, Ryan had a feeling that if he had a ski mask he would probably be wearing that too. To add to his uniqueness he had quite a different accent. She couldn’t quite place what kind of accent it was or where he could possibly be from, but Ryan knew it couldn’t be something typical like English or Russian. It was quite intriguing actually and it was a good distraction from her headache and longing to get out of the Academy.

Hi Ryan said blatantly staring at the guy. He had truly sparked her interest. The people at Rosedale Academy were mostly all the same from what Ryan has observed. Either they are all angry, messed up, sad, or just crazy, but this guy seemed… different. Ryan couldn’t quite put her finger on it but there was something about this guy that was different from most of the people that were at the Academy for reasons like she was. Either he was a really good actor or Ryan was just very bad at reading people, but he didn’t seem like the type that was there for something that was his fault. Ryan was at the Academy because apparently it was wrong for her to like drinking so much, but it was her fault for not being able to hide it well.

Ryan didn’t even realize she was staring at him until the sound of someone kicked over a chair near the other tables interrupted her train of thought. A small smile spread across her face as Ryan pushed her bangs out of her face. So are you just going to say hey or are you going to introduce yourself? Ryan asked jokingly. Well I guess I’ll just introduce myself first. I’m Ryan she said. Ever since Ryan got here she wasn’t too sure if she was supposed to add in why she was at the Academy, some people did and some people didn’t. Honestly Ryan didn’t think there was anything wrong to admit to, so as of now she felt that there was no need to throw in the label of “alcoholic.”

WORDS--- 669
STATUS--- finished
TAGGED--- open
OUTFIT--- clickers
NOTES--- feel free to join!

[cuyler cohen willam]

ALL WOUND UP, ON THE EDGE
terrified, sleep disturbed, petrified

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• • • • • • • • • • • RYAN MCGREEN ![/font][/color][/font][/size][/center]

Cuyler was pretty sure that he was the only person in this facility who had actually agreed to coming. While it had been his mother’s and his high school’s idea, he hadn’t protested to getting help. In fact, he had invited it. Cuyler knew that he had problems, a lot of serious ones at that, and he knew they weren’t problems that he could sort out on his own. As much as he wanted to deal with his issues on his own time, he knew that he would be sixty before he was back to normal, assuming he had ever been normal in the first place. He wanted to be able to go to a public place without feeling like he was going to get attacked by every man he saw. If it was possible for him to get the help that he needed at home with his family he would take that option in a heartbeat, but that wasn’t likely. He missed his mother, brother and sisters dearly, but he was a messed up guy with a lot of baggage. Cuyler wanted to be normal and he didn’t want to be afraid every time he stepped outside. He wanted to be able to have a girlfriend without worrying about the fact that he could never fully satisfy her. Even with therapy he doubted that that would happen though. Somehow he just couldn’t see himself ever kissing someone let alone getting sexual. So of course the racial mutt had no qualms with going to the therapy room. Well, he didn’t like the idea of being in a room with other guys but ht was trying to tell himself that it was for his own good. That only helped him cope so much though. He was always still afraid that something would happen to him, no matter how much reassuring he did to himself. Accepting your problems and being positive only got a guy so far.

There was one thing Cuyler would give to do though. He wanted to spend a day or two in Rushlin every now and then for the soul purpose of taking photos. At the very least they could let him set up a tiny makeshift studio, but of course they wouldn’t. Being in here gave him so many ideas for a series of mental disorder photos. He wanted to show people what it was like to be in the minds of these people. He wanted to create morbid and morose images of what was going on in the minds of the people that surrounded him. Photography was as much a part pf him as his hands and lung were. His camera came everywhere with him. Everywhere except the bathroom that is. The first thing he was going to do when he was out of this place was go back to Egypt to take photos, and then go to Italy, and then back to Holland where he had spent most of his years. He had about a dozen photo albums of photographs he had taken of his many homes over the years and visits to places he had lived when he was too young to remember. He wanted to go back to all of the places that had helped create the blended accent he loved so much, an accent this girl might hear a lot of.

Cuyler didn’t really see the point in introducing himself with the reason why he was here. For one it would become obvious to the person in due time, and for another it just seemed pointless to him. Going up to people and saying “Hey I’m Cuyler and I’m terrified of men and sex, want to be my friend?” seemed a little insane. He would answer if the person asked, but otherwise he simply let them figure it out on their own. His thoughts were interrupted when someone kicked over a chair nearby, causing him to nearly leap out of his seat. Once again he tugged the sleeves of his sweater farther down his gloved hands and calmed himself down before focusing on her words. “I’m Cuyler,”

[/color] he announced as he ran a hand through his hair and pushed it off of his face in a manner similar to what she had done with her bangs. He had always been intrigued by girls with more masculine names, curious as to why their parents chose the name that they did. [/justify] [/blockquote]words: 737
outfit: this
lyrics: dream theatre, panic attack
notes: - - - [/blockquote]
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