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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jun 30, 2020 10:49:01 GMT
Emer awoke groggily, knowing that her dizzy state meant only one thing: She'd been drugged, manhandled and moved again. She could feel a sore spot by her left ankle where whoever it had been had probably grabbed her a little too hard. That, or she'd hurt it in her sleep. The pain was mild and soon to fade, but it reminded her of the fact that a complete stranger regularly put their hands on her while unconscious, and the thought once again made her want to vomit. She was sure the day would come when she'd be entirely adjusted to this new routine, but feared it. Losing her principles felt like losing a part of herself, and even worse: It felt like giving up, accepting this new life. She would not accept it.
She almost didn't want to open her eyes. What if this was the bad room again? She'd eaten the day before, and was not looking forward to use a hole in the ground with no running water. Dean had been gentlemanly about the whole thing, but there was no way he'd come out of that situation looking at her the same. The thought made her miss him again. Being roomed with Silvio had felt like she'd still had a small part of him, but now she was most likely utterly alone again. Or worse.
She let out a sleepy grunt and let her arm fall from the side of her face to the side of the bed. The cold, hard shock of the metal bed frame made her jolt and open her eyes. All she saw was a big, white wall. Metal bed... white walls... is this a hospital? Oh, wouldn't it be wonderful to wake in a hospital after a big accident, learning that the last few weeks had been nothing but a horrible dream? It would totally explain all the manhandling and the drugged states - maybe just her comatose mind making sense of its environments. Was it too much to hope for?
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One day I will set this right
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jun 30, 2020 12:00:37 GMT
Geoff finished his business in the shotty bathroom that was now in his room. It was better than no bathroom at all. His brother Sean has the same cheap toilet in his room. After using a large hunk of soap, at this point he might as well have washed up using bacon fat, he set it down to go face his roommate.
He had made a point to stay away from Emer when he realized who he was roomed with. Don’t bother her, and she wouldn’t bother him. Besides, that phone jack was still holding his interest.
Geoff opened the door to the room and walked to the food tray. Yummy, stake bread and water. Was it a first world problem that he had been getting sick of the Chinese food in the nicer rooms? Probably. He could live on bread and water for two weeks. He broke up a hunk before shoving the rest in his pocket. Given the setup, he had to be smart with how he rationed the smaller food source.
Emer’s shock of red hair was the brightest thing in the room. He walked past her and went back over to the phone jack, where he had set shop. She could have the bed.
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Survivor
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jun 30, 2020 21:45:43 GMT
Emer vaguely heard the door of the bathroom open, and started sitting up in bed. She was still a little worried about who her new roommate would be - she'd been worried with every new room switch - but less so now that all her previous roommates had been perfectly fine. Even Jessica, she hadn't always seen eye to eye with, but she'd been perfectly harmless and mostly just a normal human being. The paranoia was starting to subside.
When she saw a slim-looking shadow move in the corner of her eye she relaxed even further. It wasn't a threatening silhouette by any means. And she registered that it wasn't charging at her. And the person had apparently been in the bathroom, which meant they'd been awake longer than she had, and they hadn't attacked her yet. These were all fairly good signs that she was probably relatively safe.
With a sigh of relief she sat up fully and turned to find out more about her new room, and her new roommate. It took her a couple of seconds to recognize him. The thought of him being locked up in a room like her had been preposterous - clearly he'd been in league with the villain of this story, and wouldn't be punished like this. Obviously she knew he'd been in the room next to her at one point, but there was no proof that he'd been locked in like them. Maybe the other side of the wall had just been an open hallway or something.
In addition, she didn't actually remember his face all that well. The picture that had haunted her in her dreams had been the mask - the monster, not the man beneath it. Once recognition did hit her, it was that very same mask that flashed in her mind and made her freeze. Why. Why was he here? Why was she put with him? Why now, when she was finally getting over the initial shock of the trauma? Suddenly she didn't feel so safe anymore.
All she did was sit and observe him, as he seemingly... ignored her? He'd gone straight for the food - she supposed it was comforting that he found that treat more tempting than her. She'd eat as well - it always seemed to ease her stomach and mind after a good ol' drug doze - but didn't dare go anywhere near his position. Why wasn't he saying anything, or acknowledging her? Was this a trick? Was he planning something? Was he still angry? Oh shit.
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Survivor
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One day I will set this right
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jun 30, 2020 21:58:49 GMT
When Geoff took a break from staring at the phone jack, he looked over. Emer was frozen like the deer in the headlights. But she was still a kid. He shouldn't fault her for reacting like any normal person would. He took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes. The bad lighting was hard for him to adjust to.
"Hey. Listen. I'll get this out of the way since, well, it's obvious we're both uncomfortable." He spoke quietly, and shameful. He might as well get the awkwardness over and done with. The sooner he did that, the sooner he could move on. Just treat this like you were talking to Kim. What you did was wrong, you know that. "I can't change the past. I shouldn't have done the gun thing nor should I have yelled at you. It was wrong of me."
It was like taking off a coat. Filled with lead. The minute he said, he started to feel much better. Emer was scared, and for good reason.
"I'll stay over here so you can have the bed to yourself. I don't mind sleeping on the floor. Kind of did that already." He gestured to his makeshift pillow he made out of his leather jacket.
"With that out of the way...um..." he rubbed the back of his neck. Here came the tidal wave of awkwardness that tasted worse than the stale bread, "You've got a good memory, were there things in your other rooms that might help us get out? I've been studying the jack, hoping there might be some wires, but I can't see shit. My bad eyesight doesn't exactly help it."
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jul 1, 2020 8:48:38 GMT
Emer jumped just slightly when Geoff started talking, and hated herself for it. She'd thought about hypothetically meeting him before; how she'd give him a piece of her mind and triumphantly stand her ground. How she wouldn't let him break her. Yet now, when it was actually happening, she was reduced to a frozen, shaking mess. It had been much easier to keep up the tough act when it had all been hypothetical, hadn't it? This display, in comparison, was shameful.
"Hey. Listen. I'll get this out of the way since, well, it's obvious we're both uncomfortable." Get what out of the way? Her pulse spiked a little, but she managed to stay still on the surface.
"I can't change the past. I shouldn't have done the gun thing nor should I have yelled at you. It was wrong of me." Was he... apologizing? She'd never considered this outcome of their hypothetical meeting. It caught her so entirely unaware, like a frisbee to the back of her head. The more she listened, the more she realized he really was apologizing. And it didn't seem like a fauxpology either, this one seemed genuine. She wasn't entirely sure what to do with that. For a moment, though, just a moment, the mask left her troubled mind alone and she saw only Geoff.
Before she could manage to form a cohesive reply from her frazzled mind, Geoff spoke again: "You've got a good memory, were there things in your other rooms that might help us get out? I've been studying the jack, hoping there might be some wires, but I can't see shit. My bad eyesight doesn't exactly help it."
Like Jessica did. Or was he simply looking to see how much she knew that maybe she wasn't supposed to? Was it better to be cooperative or to feign ignorance? She'd already decided to act nice - pissing him off more while she was in a locked room with him didn't seem like a good decision.
"... I-it's okay," she finally formulated. It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay at all. But better to let him think so. Now what to tell him? Some things were harmless enough, even if he was just testing her. "Ehmm... Jessica found some crayons under the bed," she finally said after an eternity of silence. "It was how we could communicate. Ehmm.. Silvio found a locket, but we didn't open it." That made her sound like a moron. "It- it was locked, and- and he didn't want to break it." Definitely stupid, she should have just broken it herself. The rest of Silvio's discoveries could remain their secret, though. She didn't want to accidentally betray him.
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Survivor
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One day I will set this right
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jul 1, 2020 15:07:36 GMT
While Emer said it was okay, there was still some hesitation. It reminded him of when he first met Aoi, who also put up walls to protect herself. Let her come to him, he reminded her. It wasn’t an overnight change, but at least they could have something to go off of.
Jessica found some crayons under the bed. It was how we could communicate. Ehmm.. Silvio found a locket, but we didn't open it. It- it was locked, and- and he didn't want to break it."
“Not bad. You’ve done better in all my searching when in comes to clues,”
Geoff was impressed, albeit a little jealous. Emer and her previous roommates had found a lot more pieces to this strange puzzle. The locket in particular was especially interesting. He would have tried to open it, too. Maybe not with force but...
“The only things I found worth noting were the paintings in, well, what can be described as the ‘honeymoon suite’, had two conflicting symbolisms; a happy family was one, and the other was western cultures meeting western...Well, Hannah told me that anyways. Then when I went to study it closer, I kept getting beat up by the painting. I know, it’s...pretty stupid.”
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jul 1, 2020 16:05:18 GMT
“Not bad. You’ve done better in all my searching when in comes to clues.” Somehow she doubted that, considering she'd done absolutely nothing except listen to what her roommates had of information. She'd found nothing herself. She'd realized nothing herself. She knew nothing. But at the very least, if Geoff seemed impressed, he wouldn't have reason to prod deeper and suspect she was holding out on him. That was good.
She listened to Geoff, half amazed at the fact he was talking to her at all, as if nothing was wrong between them, as if they were just casual friends and he didn't make her skin crawl. The other half of her was just puzzled at what he was telling her. Art was probably one of the most boring parts of her psychology studies so far. So far. As if there's gonna be more. No, she couldn't give up hope that someone would come for her. Although the cops were already unreasonably late with locating them, there was always hope. Better late than never, wasn't that what everyone were saying?
The honeymoon suite.. "... I heard you got married," she mumbled, reminding herself. She wondered who she was, if she was okay, if they liked each other. The shock and shame of having talked to him so casually made her look away, but not for long. She didn't dare keep her eyes off of him for too long.
The rest of what Geoff told her didn't make much sense to her. It beat him up? As in, he couldn't understand it, and it was bothering him? It was such a weird way of phrasing things, but she supposed she knew nothing about this man or how quirks. "I don't understand art, either," she tried, hoping that he would remain calm with her if she appeared friendly enough. Although it was strange, and strained, like she was trying to figure out what she should say rather than just speaking candidly. It took effort, but at least the task kept her mind busy.
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jul 1, 2020 16:34:24 GMT
“I heard you got married.”
How long had it been since the wedding? The date on his rediscovered Fitbit said early June. He knew that he and the others had been stuck here for a while, but for a month? Jesus, why didn’t the lady just let them go after they got what she wanted out of them? It was something he never understood.
“You heard right. A forced wedding. We had electric bracelets on and if we didn’t follow the whole thing bit by bit, we were shocked. By we, I mean myself, my ‘bride’ Hannah, and two witnesses.”
Instinctively, his hand went t his ankle where the bracelet had been. Nutcase matchmaker clod. It was one thing to want a wedding to go smoothly. But to this extreme? He was honestly surprised things hadn’t gone further south like the wind being poisoned or being forced to kill someone with the cake cutting knife. Speaking of which, where was the cake? He had blacked out from gas before he could have done a more thorough search of the basement.
”I didn’t want to kiss the bride, because, well, it’s not right to force someone you met into such a thing. I faked it, hoping it would pass, but no. I was pretty sure I could have died on the floor right there.
Geoff took off his glasses and rubbed his blue gray eyes. Restlessness was becoming more common. Exhaustion usually followed whenever he talked about some of the twisted games. There was probably one going on right hut now as he and Emer swapped experiences. She was lucky, she hadn’t been chosen for anything. She hadn’t seen someone go boom. All she saw was a mean spirited prank, and anyone who thought they were going to die, especially waking up in a disgusting basement, would be traumatized. It made him understand her position a bit more.
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jul 1, 2020 20:03:04 GMT
He looked tired. So human. So unlike how she'd pictured him until now. It was strange, uncanny even. Could he really just be... a normal guy? It seemed so unlikely, and yet, he'd be a damn good actor if not. She felt like she'd been ripped through a rift in space and time and landed in an alternate reality where nothing made sense anymore.
"I don't think there's a court in the world that would consider that a legal marriage." Was that what he wanted to hear? Would that make him feel better? Or had he actually wanted to marry the woman? She knew absolutely nothing about this man, other than... well...
She started fidgeting with the hem of her blue dress, feeling uncomfortable and vulnerable. He'd put himself at risk not to force himself on a woman, but had had no qualms, no hesitation, about potentially murdering Emer. It stung a little, knowing he was capable of resistance, but had opted out of it. She knew he didn't even know her, but still... shouldn't he care about a life just because he didn't personally know them?
...
Would I have?
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jul 1, 2020 20:18:14 GMT
A tiny bit of light flickered in Geoff’s eyes. Whenever he had to tell people about his marriage, it was usually brushed off as a new norm. Deep down though, he was bothered at how casual the whole ordeal was. Who in their right mind had “zap the couple and attend because we’re OCD that things have to go exactly right” on their wedding board? It was also nice letting down his guard of being “the perfect groom”. At least for now. David would be joining him on that ride with the long run. While his smile was tired, It was still one nonetheless.
”Thanks. No one said that before, and kind of glad I’m not the only one thinking they’re bullshit.”
The crazy lady could think all she wanted, but he and Emer, and a god chunk of people, knew the truth. It was a sick fantasy to her. But again, why keep him around? So she could threaten to torture Kim or the others he cared about to force him into doing something wrong. Emer said it best; no court alive would let that pass.
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jul 1, 2020 20:41:40 GMT
Was he... smiling? A chill ran cold down Emer's spine, but she tried to shake it off.
"Did you... did you know her before? Before the- ehmm, mock wedding, that is." He had to, right? Everyone seemed to know everyone in here. To be honest, it was beginning to get on her nerves. This place was unfamiliar and unpredictable as it was, the situation so entirely uncontrollable, that she really didn't appreciate feeling out of the social loop as well. "I feel like everyone knew each other except me, and-" And Dean. Maybe she shouldn't say that. Definitely not, having heard about their fight. Geoff might be calm enough about Emmy right now, but she didn't want to risk angering him by bringing up Dean as well.
Instead, she hurriedly looked away from him, not to meet his gaze, and finally took a look at the room instead. It really did look like a hospital, except for the old carpet that was most definitely a health hazard. And the chest. That seemed... suspicious? If she was going to look for clues, that would probably be the place to start. Although, if she were hiding anything in this room, the big, giant, obvious chest would have been a moronic hiding place.
"Have you checked the chest yet?" she blurted, mostly to change the topic before Geoff realized her blunder, but also with true curiousity. Geoff had been awake longer than she had, after all.
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jul 1, 2020 21:11:10 GMT
"Hannah? No. I only knew maybe two people well from the huge crowd in the basement."
Greg and Kim had been the two he really knew. Kim's circle of friends had been through passing or through small hi-bye scenarios. Kind of bad when a kidnapping spree was the one way people learned to make friends. Well, that or if people were nutcases and wanted to look for friends in high death situations. Emer was seeming to lose interest, so he decided to let the topic go. Maybe another day when anxieties weren't so high.
Emer asked about a chest. What chest? Staying rooted to where he was, he looked over to where she had scuttled off too. Yep. Clear as day was a large chest.
"Wow, how did I not see that?" Geoff felt even more like a dumbass. The chest was huge. It was a bigger eyesore than the phone jack. "No, not even a peek," He pointed to the jack on his side. "I was too busy checking this jack out. If I had my kit, I could have possibly messed up the wires so the huge Chinese woman possibly running this madhouse wouldn't be able to see what people were up to. But I didn't want to risk getting more people hurt by tripping the wrong wire. Besides, it wouldn't do us much good. The wires are probably all dead."
The chest, you idiot. Focus on the chest.
"Anyways, yeah that chest does look promising."
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We're all gonna get Stockholm Syndrome, aren't we?
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Post by Emer Shallow on Jul 1, 2020 22:38:35 GMT
"Hannah? No. I only knew maybe two people well from the huge crowd in the basement." "Huh," she let out, honestly surprised. Why had everyone been so quick to defend him, then? Why had Jessica been so intent on defending his every move? Maybe she was one of the two people he was talking about. In any case, she wasn't going to question him. Keep him calm, that was the goal. Then maybe she could get through however long she had to be stuck with him.
"I was too busy checking this jack out. If I had my kit, I could have possibly messed up the wires so the huge Chinese woman possibly running this madhouse wouldn't be able to see what people were up to. But I didn't want to risk getting more people hurt by tripping the wrong wire. Besides, it wouldn't do us much good. The wires are probably all dead."
"Or you could cover it with a towel or something." Not as fancy of a solution, but it had worked in the past, until Emer no longer cared about her pride and privacy. He seemed a little neurotic, prone to overthinking things. Like how he'd gotten so stuck, with the cord she'd barely noticed, that he'd completely missed the giant fucking chest. If she wasn't still so wary of him, she might have laughed.
Okay, so... chest. Was this a trick? Was he pulling her leg? Would he attack her once she turned her back? Would something jump out of it and hurt her? Logically, she knew these fears were a result of her paranoia and fried nerves, but that didn't make her any less on edge. Still, she had to play along. Geoff wasn't moving, clearly expecting her to go do the work. Slowly and stiffly she moved off the bed and reluctantly turned her back to the man, her stomach rolling with nervous nausia as she did so. Moving over, she slowly lift the lid, almost surprised it wasn't locked, or filled with clothes. Those had been her two biggest theories.
"It's... a bunch of junk," she said, looking back over her shoulder and feeling her heart lunge as her eyes landed on Geoff once more.
Quickly she moved her eyes back to the open chest. What even is all this shit?
[Perception check: Emer is searching through the chest for a clue or something useful]
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Post by Madge Baker on Jul 3, 2020 18:58:42 GMT
PERCEPTION CHECK: Emer is searching through the chest for a clue or something useful. RESULT: 8 – What can possibly be in a chest full of clutter? That's right!! Total useless junk. Emer had to spend some time digging through piles of old smelly clothes, plastic cluttery and plates, a bunch of magazines about knitting until- She has found something rather... odd. It was a thick envelope, filled with... bills! Lots and lots of bills. The inc mostly faded away with time but still, there were so many of them so Emer could figure out that those were all connected to various plastic surgery clinics from all over the united states but the earliest date that Emer could find was June 2017, Plastic Surgery of New York. Besides the date and the name of the clink, the ginger has also found the name of the client, along, of course, with the number of her credit card. Helena Hoffman. And last but not least when the girl has emptied the envelope to its core... she saw a photo. A small polaroid photo of a beautiful yet looking a bit "plastic" blonde woman with thick lips, tiny botched nose and big blue eyes. She was smiling at the camera with her teeth, posing for the photographer, looking pretty much happy. Emer however couldn't recognize the woman and not will Geoff if he shows him the picture. Emer has found an envelope that belonged to Helena H.
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Survivor
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One day I will set this right
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Post by Geoff Alen on Jul 3, 2020 20:30:04 GMT
"Yeah, I would but my aim with towels is pretty bad. I think I'd accidentally break something, be it furniture or myself," Geoff said in a self condescending way.
The throbbing pain in his finger from the painting had stopped, but it still was a bit of a small sting. Why hadn't he thought of covering the cameras. Emer's towel strategy seemed to have worked. She must have been an expert at it. But given that people were getting thrown into events, it wasn't like it would do much good. Or did it? Katherine had flattered the matchmaker and she wasn't thrown into any more games. Or so he thought.
Emer looked at the chest. Despite Geoff wanting to help, he stayed where he was. It wasn't until she pried the chest open that he took maybe two steps away from the jack. There was still distance between him and Emer. While her voice was calm, her body language betrayed her fear.
"It's... a bunch of junk," Emer reported. "Junk? Like the basement clutter style junk or worse?" Geoff asked.
He shuddered as he remembered that basement. From the sewer smelling corridor to the closet found by the other group that was filled with complete clutter. He still remembered the creepy mannequin that had fallen out. Had it...No, don't go down that road, Geoff. You would know if it was that.
But then Emer pulled out a thick envelope. Inside were text documents that were fading with time. Geoff couldn't read any of it from the distance he was at, but there was something else. An old polaroid. He hadn't seen one of those since his parents showed him how it worked.
"Weird place to put an envelope filled with possibly important details," he commented.
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