All My Thoughts Lead Back To You [Wisti and Will]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Wistful Dream on 17-09-2009, 20:30:36</h2>
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				Title: <strong>All My Thoughts Lead Back To You [Wisti and Will]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Wistful Dream</strong> on <strong>17-09-2009, 20:30:36</strong>
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				She felt so weak, laying upon the stark white of the hospital bed, her eyes fluttering, only half open, only half aware of the world around her. She was drugged again. Catherine Porter shifted on the pristine surface of the bed, her throat working as she fought off her panic, as she tried to control her raging thoughts, her fears. Paranoia was something to be expected after what she had lived through. <br><br>Slowly her thoughts came back to her, she was able to surface from the drug induced haze that robbed her of feeling the true depths of her emotions, that kept the darkness of her thoughts at bay with a haze that shroud her mind and left her a shell of herself. Catherine wasn’t sure which was worse, the haze and the shell it brought about, or the dark memories and paranoia that had become her every waking moment of her life. The brunette slowly drew air deep into her lungs, focusing just on the simple act of breathing, of inhaling, exhaling, her chest rose and fell for several moments before she opened her body up to feeling, to thinking outside of just that one thing. Simplicity was all she could handle now, nothing extreme, nothing&nbsp; complicated. Yet everything was complicated, just the very fact that she was alive, and she shouldn’t be. Perhaps it had all been a dream, everything, the kidnapping, the experimenting, the doctor, the pain. A dream, yes, she wished that could be so.<br><br>But as her fingers pressed into the button she knew would bring her bed upward, inclining it so she could sit without moving her legs, her blue eyes caught on the sight of her own arms. The vivid, still angry scar on her left forearm jarred her back into the waking nightmare that was her existence now. Bruises, yellow and green now, the blues and purples having given way as the marks faded, danced up and down her flesh, on her arms, and beneath her thin hospital gown as well. She could feel them, Cat’s eyes fluttered shut, she could feel ever jagged line of broken flesh from the knives, every bruise, every bite mark, every humiliation that had been pounded into her flesh until a broken shell was left where Catherine had once been. Her throat worked again, this time to keep from vomiting as her thoughts turned darker, inward, she had nothing left to purge as it was, dry heaves only made her feel worse. When was the last time food had actually lasted for longer then an hour within her body? She couldn’t remember. <br><br>The dancer turned her head into the bleach scented surface of&nbsp; the pillow behind her, looking away and up, she couldn’t look at herself anymore, rather focused on the bright blue and the sunshine of the spring day outside. It felt odd, that the weather could be so beautiful, that the world could seem so normal, when inside she was falling to pieces. If she couldn’t stand to look at herself how could anyone else? How could Justin?&nbsp; What had happened this time? Why was she back here, back in the suffocating white sterile bounds of the hospital? Memories from the day came back slowly, stealing into her mind and making her flinch from herself. The new doctor, Dr. Beaulieu had pushed her, wanting to know, getting under her skin and had triggered some sort of relapse, or moment of temporary insanity, all she had known was a doctor was pressuring her and she had lost it. She had tried to strangle someone who was only there to help her. She was loosing her mind. <br><br>Catherine’s eyes moved to the IV that was hooked to her arm, wondering what drugs were in it, if any of them could help her just end this torment. She wasn’t getting better, not even after a month of being ‘safe’, a month after her rescue she could hardly eat, hardly sleep, she was becoming more and more paranoid and worse in her general and mental health. She was starting to think there was no getting better. <br><br>She turned her head at the sound of the door opening, her body tensing, all hyperreactive to any change in her environment, her heart on the monitor was racing for a moment, fear spiking through her body. But it was the doctor. The beautiful red haired Amiee Beaulieu. The older woman smiled slightly, inclining her head to Catherine as she moved forward slowly. “I came in to check on you, I’m sorry about having to drug you without your consent.”<br><br>The girl shook her head, she didn’t blame the doctor at all, she had strangled the poor woman. Her lips parted voice slightly hoarse “I am the one who is sorry.” Her pale cheeks, pallid from her lack of exposure to the sun and her newly formed eating disorders, flamed with crimson for a moment. “I didn’t mean to….to….” The color so brief in its brush against her skin drained away again as a memory caught her in its vise, the bright blue of her eyes going flat and glossy, her lips parted but she didn’t breath, merely froze. The shadow, the sadistic evil shadow…its name….”Dr. Hartford….that was…”<br>She fell silent as the door opened again, this time to admit a nurse, a handsome blond women, roughly in her forties with a smile on her lips and a clip board firmly in hand. One of those who believed her job really did help others, and saw herself a mother figure to those she tended; she would be the type of nurse Catherine disliked the most, the ones that reminded her of her own mother that made her feel the glaring horror of the shattered family relationships she had returned to. <br><br>“Hello Miss Porter, just came to check your vitals, you have a lot of worried people waiting out here for you, such nice young folks too.” Dr. Beaulieu&nbsp; didn’t say anything for the moment, just stayed back, observing as the blond nurse performed her routine checks, finishing them efficiently, Catherine was the model patient, doing all that she needed to to help, but speaking not at all unless told to. Like a doll, lifeless, listless. Finally the older woman patted Catherine’s hand, not seeming to notice the way the young woman flinched away from it “I’ll leave to Dr. Beaulieu&nbsp; now dear, you seem right as rain nearly, which your family will be happy to hear I bet.”<br><br>Family, her brother, her sister, probably her best friend. Her parents perhaps, but no, work. Justin. She felt tears burn in her eyes but she didn’t shed them, it was so unfair to Justin, what she had become, who she was now. Her eyes moved down to the ring on her finger, the promise they had made of love nearly six months before feeling like a far away dream now. The diamond, surrounded by tiny sapphires winked at her. He had once told her that it was only fitting her ring have sapphires, for her eyes made him think of them when the shone out when she was happy. Her eyes weren’t sapphires anymore. <br><br>Dr. Beaulieu moved forward then, her gray eyes sharp but compassionate. “What can you tell me about Dr. Hartford?” <br><br>Catherine opened her mouth, to speak, to deny it, to do something, when the door opened yet again, her heart beat spiking, but it was only Michael, her brother. 
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