It had been a while since the freaky events on a Friday left Emily in a living body that was not her own. The body she had acquired belonged to a young mutant named Margo, and in return, Margo received Emily’s dead body. The small adventure had led the two young women into a friendship. Sharing bodies can do that to people. Since then, they have returned to their rightful vessels. Margo was back in her living, feeling body while Emily was back in her dead one. Oddly enough, both were happy for the return to normalcy.

While the two ladies were enjoying each other’s company at a local museum, Emily received a call. It seemed an old friend was being kept in a mental facility near New York City. Emily wondered why this friend had suddenly wanted to contact her and how she had gotten her cell-phone number. She also wondered why her friend, who she hadn’t seen or heard from in the past fifty years, was being kept in a mental ward. Things were definitely not adding up.

So, Emily had decided to pay a visit to the facility, and for some reason, Margo had decided to tag along. They both took a taxi to the establishment, since Emily’s usual vehicle was incapacitated.

The brick building looked more like a hotel then a hospital, with its many floors and ornate exterior. A chain-link fence with coiled barbed wire surrounded the facility. Emily had to speak to the guard near the entrance to be let in. Another guard and a man in white scrubs led them to the building. A passcode was required to open the door. What kind of hospital was this?

The waiting room held two or three other visitors. The guard told them to wait here and a nurse would either bring out her friend shortly or lead them to the guest area. They first had to see what kind of state her friend was in and how the other patients were behaving that day.

Emily sat down in a worn, brown waiting chair. There were no televisions or magazines to pass the time. The girl turned to her new friend and spoke in a mere whisper. “You still sure you wanted to tag along?”

(OOC: Sorry for the shorter post)

They took a seat in the drab waiting room of the mental ward, where they'd been instructed to stay by an equally depressed-looking, edgy guard. As Margo eyed her surroundings, Emily turned and whispered to her. "You still sure you wanted to tag along?"

"No," The younger girl said seriously, then laughed. The only other visitor left in the room by now stared up at her suddenly and blankly, and Margo quickly looked away. "Sorry," she muttered, then quietly to Emily, "This is scary." Somehow humor didn't quite feel right in a place like this. Nothing felt quite right in this "hospital" to be honest. She just couldn't stop thinking about how much the place reminded her of a prison. A rundown old prison from some horror movie.

"So," she whispered to Emily just for distraction's sake, "what's up with this friend of yours? Tell me a little about her."

“I met Mary in Georgia…about sixty years ago. She was about your age, actually.” Emily had been thinking about the week they had met in that small town. The dead girl had been traveling to Mississippi to meet with a local civil-rights activist when her car broke down. The young Georgian’s parents had let her stay with them while the mechanic waited for parts to come in. The two girls had kept in touch through letters until Emily decided to go hermit.

“I don’t know why she’s being kept in such a place. The woman on the phone wasn’t very informative. But-“ A woman with a guard came out into the waiting area and smiled at the two women. “Good afternoon. Mary is in a good mood today, so she is able to be seen in the visiting area. If you two will follow me, she is already waiting for you.”

Emily stood up and followed the woman through a pair of double doors. The guard followed behind them, expressionless. The facility was old but kept clean. Doors were on both sides of the hallway. There were no windows and a few of the florescent lights flickered. Emily was slightly familiar with mental facilities. She did not know why this one was so depressing and foreboding. These places were made to help people, not confine them away from society. Was this facility state funded?

A scream was heard from behind one of the doors. It was ignored by the woman and the guard.

The two ladies were led to an outside area that was surrounded by the rest of the brick building. A guard tower stood in the center of the area. Four men stood surveying the area. Two of them carried guns. What kind of place was this?

A few people in blue gowns and pants wandered around the area. Mary sat on a park bench next to a dying tree. The elderly woman still looked like the young woman Emily had encountered sixty years ago. The dead girl slowly sat down next to her. The nurse and guard had disappeared. “Mary, do you remember me?”

As they followed the woman through a pair of double doors down a long hallway, yet another guard trailing behind them- for what exactly, the girl didn't want to know- Margo was yet examining the place with a critical eye. It seemed to be an older building; in the style of a time long before hers. It almost reminded her of a hotel, in some ways; a horror-movie worthy one at that. In the manner of hospitals, it was squeaky clean; that was just about the only resemblance it bore to one. She wondered if it was funded by the state. Not that the girl knew much about such places, but she hoped that all mental facilities weren't like this. Heck, this was enough for anybody to go off into the deep end.

There were doors on either side of the hallway: sturdy, locked. A chilling scream issued from behind one of them. Margo flinched. The guard did not. Neither did their guide.

Soon they came to what she supposed was the visiting area, an open air area enclosed by the walls of the mental hospital. In the center of the courtyard stood a guard tower; around every corner, armed guards. Margo frowned slightly as she followed a distance behind her friend. Emily headed to where an elderly lady was seated on a park bench under a dead tree (gosh, was everything around here dead?) and sat down beside her. So. That was Mary, then.

Margo stood awkwardly nearby. Oh, how she wished she was an actual telepath. What good was screwing with the people around you if you couldn't even tell what they were thinking in the first place?

The elderly woman didn’t seem to register Emily’s presence. Slowly she turned her head and blinked. “E-Emily?” The woman’s southern drawl was still thick. “When did you get back to the farm? Pa should be home soon. Momma’s making ham bone for supper. Have you seen Duke? He ran after a deer on the tree-line this morning and haven’t seen him since.” She spoke slowly, as if in a dream, but she looked dead straight at Emily, fully aware of her presence.

Emily smiled softly at Mary. “That old coon-dog always did like to get into trouble. I’m sure he’ll be home before sun-down.” The dead girl was worried, but didn’t show it. She wanted to ask Mary why she was here, especially in such a worrisome place. But if she didn’t know reality, then how could she get straight answers from her. “What have you been up to, Mary? How old are you now?”

Mary sat silently, staring into Emily’s face. A small bit of spittle began to form on the corner of her mouth. “Aunt Geraldine asked about you. Said you should come by. Cows been acting up. May have to cull the herd.”

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment. She remembered Geraldine, but she lived in town. She had no cows. “I’ll pay her a visit after supper. How’s your ma been?”

The elderly woman’s eyes widened. “Doctors gave her a new prescription. Keeps her calm. I’m worried about them cows, though. You may want to go before supper. You can help them right quick and come back. Cows been acting up. May have to cull the heard.”

Something was off about this conversation. Emily made a quick glance around. A man in a white lab coat stood in ear shot, but seemed interested in another patient across the way. Was he listening in? “Would be terrible if we’d have to do that. Mighty terrible. I’ll head that way and see if there is anything I can do. Be back in a jiffy.” Emily stood up and approached the man in the coat. He cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. The dead girl smiled at the slightly flustered man. “Excuse me, sir. That woman sitting over there is my grandmother. This is the first time I’ve actually ever met her. My dad doesn’t talk about his mom much. I’m not even sure why she’s in here. Sure, she seems to have a little dementia or something, but she seems harmless enough.”

The man pushed his glasses further up on his nose. “All of our patients in this facility are a danger to themselves and others. Medication and constant surveillance are the only thing that are keeping these individuals calm-”

“Medication should be helping them get better, not just keeping them calm.” She had interrupted the man, but kept her voice calm and conversational.

The man’s eyes narrowed, his voice became hushed and curt. “Nothing. No type of medication or amount of therapy can help THESE types of…people.

Emily averted her eyes to the ground, feigning defeat. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, sir. You would know what’s best. I’ll go back and enjoy my time with my grandmother.” She turned quickly, her body showing dejection. Emily glanced quickly at Margo to see if she had been paying attention to the conversation. Something was definitely going on here.

Margo, leaning against the base of the guard tower a short distance away, folded her arms as she listened to Emily's conversations. She was trying, and failing, to swallow the sense of dread that had been rising in her throat since the moment she'd first stepped foot in this dastardly place. There was nothing definite yet, but somehow she knew. It had been a mistake to come.

What had she been thinking? She'd had nothing better to do than hang out with Emily. She'd thought maybe she could help. She'd thought maybe her ability might finally make itself useful. What had she been thinking? There was no help for anybody here.

She had never liked hospitals, but it was more that. God, this place was a prison. She wanted to help, she really did. But more than anything, Margo wanted out.

Instead, she looked bored. She avoided Emily's gaze, giving the few guards that paid attention to her a disdainful glance at the most. She wasn't scared. Emily was here, after all, even if she couldn't talk to her openly for fear of drawing some sort of negative attention.

Despite Margo's best efforts, the closest guard was already eyeing her. She couldn't help the fact that she stood out like a sore thumb in this place, a sharp-eyed girl among the crazy old patients and blank-faced guards. But she just rolled her eyes at him, tried harder to look dozy, and continued to watch the patients with those peculiar bracelets.

Emily moved back towards her old friend. The woman had her head down, her eyes out of focus, her mouth slightly agape. “You weren’t lie’n. Cows don’t look too good. Hate to have to cull the heard.” Mary continued to keep her head down, her voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s these darn coyotes. They rile them up, causing all this madness. Can you spend the night, Emily? We can go berry picking in the morning.”


“I’d love to spend the night. Maybe I’ll help your mom cook breakfast.” The dead girl stared out into the visiting area. Everyone was so complacent. Dread began to build up in the base of her brain-stem. “I think we should stay out in the barn tonight. Maybe we’ll get a glance of the man in the woods. Watch out, he watches you sleep.”


Emily nodded slowly. Mary was trying to tell her something. The man in the lab coat was still standing near by. Glancing around, people in lab coats stood in ear shot of the five or six other guests in the area. She had to somehow get a look around, somewhere without prying eyes, somewhere where the man couldn’t watch them sleep. The barn? Emily continued to carry on a conversation with Mary as she looked around the courtyard. There was a shed-type structure connected to a section of the building. The structure was worn down with one pad-lock keeping the door shut. This must be the “barn” Mary was talking about. “I’m not sure if I want to stay in the barn. The loft was a little rickety the last time we stayed there. And the barn door tends to get stuck.”


“It’s the safest place. Popa may not want us out there, though. We’ll sneak in after dark. Sshhhhh!” Mary put her finger next to her lips, her hands shaking slightly.


But what was Emily suppose to do? There was no way for her to even approach the worn down structure without someone stopping her.


That’s when a loud cry was heard across the yard.

Emily's friend was trying to tell her something. That much was obvious from where Margo stood, listening in on the bits of the conversation which drifted her way. The cows didn't look too good, might have to cull the herd. Coyotes. Emily was getting something from the mumble jumble, speaking conversationally to Mary, something Margo couldn't quite pick up but got the gist of by the way her gaze tracked to the shed, to the smattering of white-coated men around the courtyard. She wasn't the only eavesdropper here.

Far from it. Her dread became fear coiled in the back of her throat behind her bored facade. This prison, those cuffs with the stagnant sort of glow some of the "patients" wore... She needed to get out and warn people about this place, now.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned just in time to see one of the younger women collapse with a choked cry. It beamed out over the open space, a guard's transmitter escaping her fingers as she fell- the guard himself was literally being strangled by a nearby shrub. The woman's bracelet seemed to glow fiercer than ever, and that was the last thing Margo knew before chaos overtook the courtyard.