△ the Psychiatry Room

@♢ taylor momsen Chaerin has been better this days. No meter how much her 'sister' and 'demon' and other spirits that came along screamed, she still resolved to ignore them all, so she could be able to take the best our of the nurses good mood. She knew that if she was good enough, they could perhaps thing of letting her go one day of this filthy place her adoptive father had left her.
Chaerin could be called crazy and wasn't able to always define what was real, but she wasn't stupid and sometimes reality and what was made by her mind was too hard to separate as things to her felt the same. And maybe they were the same? What if she didn't imagine anything at all? What if people were wrong? It wasn't the first time that her 'imaginative people' as they call her friends and foes discovered something that herself alone wouldn't ever know alone.

With all of this around seven thirty am, Chaerin got off bed and since she was now allowed to wonder around, she did so and followed her characters around, letting them lead her and show her something.
Her wondering had her stopping and standing by the middle of the kitchen, without any apparent reason, then as another ten minutes or so, she walked by the main corridor again, and smiled.
"Yeah, someone's knew coming, huh?" She smiled as her 'sister' whispered the secret and then as she walked back to her own room, she flopped down the bed and kept mumbling the same phrase over and over.
"Only bad girls end up being here, they say, but we aren't bad at all."

[I'm kinda wanting Chaerin see ghosts so that's why I proposed them being real, as being ghosts. She doesn't remember her childhood that much, so that gives me space to make her do a spiritual game that went wrong and then bad spirits took the change to appear for her and talk to her]

@♢ ♔ lee chaerin Taylor looked at the screaming clock beside her, that judgingly showed her the digits 06:00 am. It was but four hours ago that she’d gone to bed, so how was she supposed to function at such an unearthly hour? She turned the deafening device out and tossed around, groaning. Her eyes were burning and felt soar, and she really, really didn’t want to wake up. But it was either that or having to face that joie de vivre judge that didn’t like her one bit, and that decision was easy. She heaved herself out of bed, trudged into the bathroom, got into some cozy sweatpants and a shirt she could fit in twice, and put her hair into a messy bun. Even though she was way too lazy to put on make-up, her dark circles screamed for come concealing and a thick line of kohl. With black-circled eyes and a lipstick on, she left her apartment, and was amazed by how alive the city was already. She grabbed a croissant and coffee at her favorite 24/7 café, and hopped the train. The psychiatry wasn’t very far away, but she still managed to doze off with her head against the window, and miss her stop. Cursing, she rubbed her forehead, and jumped off one stop after hers, deciding to simply walk through the park. She’d be some minutes late, but much later if she waited for a train to take her back.

The building arose before her like a big, grey cube. It looked very unloving, and she doubted that anybody would be able to feel better inside that. However, the insides surprised her: It had a warm atmosphere, light orange walls and the smell of egg and bacon lie in the air. It looked a lot like a hospital, but much more comfortable than that. The nurses were wearing pink and green suits, and there were no patients banging their heads against the walls. Maybe, Taylor thought, it wouldn’t be that bad in the end.

As soon as she was noticed, she was pushed into the kitchen, given an apron and told to serve the food. Just like in a hospital, the patients were eating in their room. Taylor did the rooms, and when she arrived at her last room, she knocked, and waited. No answer. She knocked again, but again received no answer. She huffed, and decided that she didn’t care. She simply opened the door, and at first thought the room was empty. That was, until she saw the blond mop of hair on a pillow. Taylor checked her clock: It was 07:34, and that girl surely should have been awake by now, for therapy visit was at eight. She carelessly switched on the lights, and stomped through the room, putting the plate on the nightstand with a bang. “Excuse me, miss,” she said with the fakest lovely tone she could make up, “Breakfast is ready, and you should be up already.”