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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 21, 2011 21:33:58 GMT
She didn't know where they were taking her until the carriage turned aroud a bend and Amelia could see the building out of the covered stretch of window. Her parents sat placidly across from her in the interior of the chaise, trying not to meet her eyes. It was as though they were avoiding any sort of recognition or contact because it would only make things harder. They were right, of course, but it did nothing to reassure Amelia. She hadn't had any suspicions. Oh she knew that they were worried about her and stressed alright, but they had never even called a doctor to the house. Perhaps they were to afraid of what the results might be. Either way, it didn't matter now.
The carriage stopped in front of a set of iron gates and Amelia couldn't breathe. There had to be some mistake. This was impossible. This was wrong. Her brown eyes flicked to her mother and father. They looked away before the footman got down to open the door. "No..." Amelia whispered. "No." She could feel her pulse beating rapidly against the constraints of her corset. Her mother turned back after her father had stepped out and grasped her by the arm. "Come along, Ami."
Amelia was numb at this point. She couldn't think. Her body moved to follow her mother as she caught up to Mr. Jacobson who was waiting at the gates. The footman had brought a bag of things for Amelia and had set it down just inside the entrance. It all hit her then. They were leaving her here.
Stopping abrubtly, Amelia turned to her mother and clutched her sleeve. "Don't do this." Her mouth was dry. "Mother... Father... I'm not mad!" She could feel her eyes getting hot and a block stick in her throat with panic. Her mother was trembling and her father ran his hand over his ashen face. They shook their heads.
"I can get better, I can! I'm not really so sad anymore and I promise I will try to go to bed earlier... Please!" At this point her mother started to cry and fled back to the carriage, away from Amelia's clutching fingers. Her father came to her and pressed a letter into her hand as he steered her through the gates. "T-This is a notice stating your...," he swallowed, "condition. It's all signed and filled out. Don't worry. It will be fine, Darling." Amelia shook her head and grabbed his hand.
"Papa..." She hadn't called him that since she was a little girl. "I'm sixteen, I'm just sixteen. Don't put me here! Don't leave me!"
But he broke away after a swift kiss on the forhead. Amelia gathered up her skirts to run but the gate slammed shut before she could escape, shutting her in. "No!" Amelia watched as the carriage sped away down the road like it was fleeing from her. She called a few more times before she knew that it was hopeless. Her fingers gripped at her locket and at the handles of her bag. The letter shook in her fingers. Before her, the building loomed.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 23, 2011 15:06:56 GMT
"What have we here? Another young mouse come to join our ranks? Well hello there." A rather tenor voice crooned, hot breath blowing across the neck of the young woman who trembled at the gates.
Cold and bony hands swiftly trailed down the pale arms of the other, brushing past her slender wrist and down to the letter clutched in her hands. He snatched the parcel from between her fingers and tucked it away in the breast of his riding jacket. He'd planned on going for a ride, but currently, more pressing matters were at hand. Before the girl could grab her satchel of belongings, those too were snatched away from her.
Lastly, and perhaps more deliberately, Doctor Bramsfield hooked his finger beneath the ear of a bow holding young Amelia's corset tightly around her waist. Icy green eyes scanned her face for any rewarding sign of terror or fright, and he drew a long smirk across his lips as he tugged at the quickly loosening bindings, drawing the strong and sturdy strings away from the grommets and the busk.
"I don't believe this protection is necessary, my dear. Allow me" he crooned languidly as the stiff garment fell away from her body without any bindings to keep it in place.
With the toe of his boot, he kicked it aside over the grassy hill and called for one of his chasers to bind her wrists in old, decaying steel manacles.
"Do come along now" he smiled, setting off at a slow and liesurely walk towards the second of the massive gates protecting his beloved asylum
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 24, 2011 3:08:25 GMT
Amelia had almost jumped when the man came up so suddenly, but she was too much in shock to react properly. Her brown eyes stared straight into his as her letter and belongings were taken from her. Even in the dim light, she could see the green of his eyes. Normally the color was one that she liked. It felt alive. But the doctor's eyes seemed detached somehow, from what she didn't know. For an obscure second Amelia wondered what had happened to him to make the green in his eyes so cold, and if the soul beneath was just as glacial.
Her skin pricked when he ran his hands close and undid her corset. She did not trust men. It was an instinctive reaction for her. But Amelia had no choice or time to do anything before he kicked it away from her and shackled her wrists. She saw the smirk stretch across his face. He wanted her to be afraid. All that registered on her face was surprise.
Going with him was not at the top of her list of wants. It wasn't that he was bad looking or extremely forceful as much as menacing in a subtle way. Amelia felt that there was some hidden primal part to him that she didn't like at all. She was drawn to cads and her relationships with others often left her hurt. But this was different. He'd had her bound and stripped her of the thing that had felt like it was keeping her together. Amelia felt vulnerable without the corset, like she'd just lost a plate of armor. In the damp air, her now free gown hugged her tiny body. The chaser prodded her along. In the end she had no choice but to go with him.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 24, 2011 22:08:21 GMT
The doctor mumbled silently to himself and the young but slovenly brunette chaser who prodded at the girl's backside with enthusiasm. His eyes scanned the foyer of his establishment and registered a sense of pride in the spotless wood of the fireplace, the polished sheen of the settees and the wax food he'd had set out for parents of inmates who came to call.
The mannerism of the gaunt medicine man changed in an instant as he opened the large and ornate double doors to his office. He led the girl in behind him, heels clicking sharply on the wooden floors.
"Sit. I implore you" he said in a soft Irish brague, the inklings of his native accent barely tickling the more educated tembre and measure of his practiced British English. From the pocket of his jacket he withdrew a pair of half-moon spectacles, perching them on his angular nose and staring down them at the small girl now perched on the settee before his desk.
"Name please" he said with a piqued curiosity, crossing his legs as he sat behind his desk, withdrawing a fresh document.
He scrawled delicately across the yellowing parchment and peered at the girl. It seemed the way he carried himself had changed entirely. His eyes seemed to glow with a sudden light, a sudden enthusiasm for the new addition to his menagerie.
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 26, 2011 2:06:37 GMT
Amelia looked around her as they set foot into the foyer. It looked far too nice to match the ominous feel of the place. Or the manacles on her wrists. Amelia followed the doctor through to his office. Her eyes scanned over the length of the room.
She saw the change settle over the doctor like a sudden wind and her head tilted. She noted the change in his accent and demeanor. Despite the awful situation, Amelia couldn't help but be hyper aware. The numbness had left and was replaced by a burning instinct. She watched him, aware that he could play her or hurt her just as easily as he could be kind.
There was a moment of hesitation when he asked her to sit. She had a feeling that the courtesy was temporary. Still, she took a seat. Best be polite and not provoke any unnecessary attention. Her brain was on autopilot, going back to manners without regard to the hurt and anxiety she was feeling.
"My name is Amelia Jacobson."
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 26, 2011 18:09:42 GMT
"Jacobson, Amelia" he muttered, long and drawn out to himself as his quill pen scratched away at the parchment.
Once finished, he scratched another line or two. The predatory nature which had but moments ago consumed him seemed to dissolve with the tension in his joints. Oh but did he ache. He ran a hand through the chin-length hair that tickled the edges of his clean-shaven jaw, somewhere internally feeling the pang of regret and burning hatred that the change in hairstyle was a direct result of. Not many months ago, he'd nearly killed himself. But where was he now? Far stronger and much better in lieu of March's horrid events.
"Age" he said with a start, having drifted away for a moment in a none-too pleasant state of ennui, thoughts astir with fresh wounds that wouldn't diminish easily.
He bit his lower lip thoughtfully and coughed, forcing his mind back to the matter at hand.
"Age, date of birth, place of origin, and age
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 27, 2011 21:11:24 GMT
Her eyes followed the trail of the pen as he scrawled her name down and the two lines that came afterward. She was still watching him closely, noting his changing attitudes. Amelia had turned away for a second to glance out the window as it started to rain before turning back to see the doctor run a hand through his hair. Part of her wondered about him. The rest of her just hoped that this wouldn't be as bad as it felt like.
Amelia could feel the blue starting to creep up along her spine to spread up through the back of her head. It was just a trickle right now, nothing too severe. But she knew that it could be, had the potential. Already, she felt iced over and small. Some of the room seemed to have lost any cheerful color it could have held. It just felt so very empty...
She peered up through her lashes when his question rang out suddenly. It seemed that he had been distracted as well. Amelia only raised her eyebrow slightly when he repeated himself twice. Oh, she was aware that it was slightly odd and should probably concern her, but caring about much of anything seemed suddenly very pointless.
"Sixteen," Amelia answered softly after a moment. "Born March 13th, 1847, in London."
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 28, 2011 3:19:39 GMT
"S-sorry. So sorry" he whispered, more to himself than anyone as he scratched out the lines on the document that repeated exactly what had been said above.
Would he have been lucid enough to endure the horrid mental recollection that marked yet another shift into his natural self, all of this horrible formality could have been avoided. His eyes paused for a moment on an old and battered violin that sat in the corner, his ears at once filling with the wonderful, rich folk music he so loved to play on lonely days in the library. But not today. No more memories.
"Guardians who escorted you today, reason for admittance, and forms of insanity" he requested in a sharp and cynical tone, feeling the sardonic sting burn against his tongue, aching for more to be said that should never be said.
He knew of the child lying in the bassinet, the young and feeble offspring he'd found on his doorstep the morning prior to these current events. A soft whimper and a cry could be heard from an annexed room, and he cleared his throat. "If you'll excuse me" he said curtly, rising from his desk and walking through the door to what appeared to be his bedroom.
"Hush, small one. Hush and calm" he whispered, softly, caring not that the mad girl watched him through the gap between the doorway and the door itself, nor that she could now see his vulnerable secret.
Weathered and spindly hands lifted a hearty babe from a wooden bassinet and cradled the child against the doctor's chest. His eyes burned with an emotion left unchecked as he tended to his one and only son, the squirming redhead abaondoned by the wretch who also abandoned the father. With utter disregard to the girl, or the fact that she was indeed left unattended, he kissed the infant's soft and heated forehead, closing his eyes to indulge in a brief and private moment. "Hush and calm, Aeodhan. Hush and calm"
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 29, 2011 2:18:17 GMT
"My parents escorted me," she replied dully, "they admitted me presumably because they have reached the end of their wits." Amelia bit her lip. The iciness was tearing at her heart. She couldn't think about how her parents had abandoned her to these doctors' "care" without losing it, so she forced it from her mind for now. "I'm not mad, Sir."
It was then that she heard the baby.
Amelia watched silently as the doctor retreated to silence the little cry. She had no doubt of what it was, but wondered about it in spite of the growing blueness. Was the child his own or one of the inmates? Were the inmates even permitted to have children in this place? The thought of anyone giving birth or growing up here was absurd. But then again, the Asylum seemed just twisted enough to where anything could happen.
Amelia waited for him to return to the inquisition. Everything was grey now. Everything.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 29, 2011 16:25:37 GMT
"That's it. It's okay" He cooed to the wriggling thing "My sweet son."
He remained in the back room for a few extended moments, allowing the child to nurse from a rubber-tipped glass bottle clutched between the fingers of his free hand. When he wanted no more, Edward kissed his forehead once again before gently setting his drowsy son back into the comfortable swaddle of his blankets. He lifted an old and tattered bear from its home in a meager toybox on the floor and settled it in the arms of the toddler who reached desperately for it.
"We can play later. I promise." He whispered, gazing down at two naiive green eyes that stared with childish admiration at the man who'd ended so many lives and ruined countless others.
His son could know none of these things at such a young age, and he intended to keep it this way. When Aeodhan calmed himself into a lazy lull, Edward returned to his desk and settled in the comfortable chair. His eyes carried a juvenile light, and his face was perhaps more flushed and lively now. He shifted the papers on the desk and cleared his throat.
"Right. Now then. Height, eye colour, hair colour, any specific physical defects or skin flaws with which we may identify you" he said softly, as though he was still speaking to his son.
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 29, 2011 21:20:10 GMT
Amelia raised her eyes as he returned and processed the questions. By now she was feeling low to the point where everything slowed down. Her whole body seemed to have frost running through it. She didn't want to be here. Why couldn't she just lay down and take a nap? It wasn't like she could do anything here, anyway. Not anymore. Her parents had sent her away. She didn't have anything to hold onto.
But she had to answer him.
"I'm five feet, zero inches tall. Brown eyes and brown hair." She felt that the second part was fairly obvious and considered being sarcastic. Maybe telling him that her eyes changed color every other weekend or something, but decided it wasn't worth it. "No physical or skin defects."
Amelia wasn't about to tell him about the birthmark on her stomach. No one besides her mother and father knew about that or had seen it. She wasn't going to give the doctor anything to use against her if she could help it.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 29, 2011 23:56:44 GMT
"Lies" he said with a sudden sharp bite to his voice "Beneath that feeble shift of yours" he gestured to the thin white dress she wore "I can see something there. Tell me." He commanded.
His eyes roamed the girl's body and he felt a satisfied smirk cross his lips with the view he recieved so unexpectedly. He finished his scribbling, annotating Amelia's secret mark with a grin.
"I am finished with your papers. But I do request you join me elsewhere for a moment" he hissed in his softly menacing voice
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 30, 2011 2:20:51 GMT
Amelia's face whitened. Her arms immediately went to cross over her stomach to cover anything from his line of vision. Damn it! She couldn't believe that he had been able to see through the shift. It was completely against propriety! She was only small and sixteen, far younger than he!
Amelia stayed seated, pressed back against the chair as he finished writing and spoke to her. His voice cut into her but she clenched her teeth. No. She hated men because of the boy that had left her. The doctor was doing nothing to help that.
She licked her lips, which had suddenly become rather dry. "Where? What do you want of me? I've answered all of your questions." Her brown eyes bored into his green, trying to stare him down.
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Post by Dr. Edward Gideon Bramsfield on Oct 30, 2011 3:09:52 GMT
"I merely need to weigh you, you fool" he let out a spiteful laugh "Please, don't flatter yourself. My interests lie elsewhere entirely. Women hold no candle to any meager shadow of pleasure."
He shrugged his thin and very feminine shoulders, beckoning the girl to follow. When they had crossed the room to his scales, he looked down pointedly at the tiny teenager crouched beneath his steely gaze. His lips twisted into another satisfied grin, and he flicked a finger upwards into the air.
"Your shift must come off. And do not find any voyeur in this act. I am first and foremost a trained medical professional. I've seen far more attactive girls undressed and splayed across my surgical table."
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Post by Amelia Jacobson on Oct 30, 2011 3:35:11 GMT
His remark about women not holding a candle to his idea of pleasure made Amelia raise an eyebrow. That could certainly mean something... But she wouldn't go there.
Amelia knew that she was small and not as well endowed as some women, but the doctor's remarks still stung. It made her not at all eager to remove anything around him. He would only speculate and criticize like everyone else. It felt like an act of degradation. He'd already taken her corset. What else would be take from her while she was here? It wasn't like she had much of anything.
"I'll bet that you have," was her muttered remark. Her parents had taught her to obey people in authority. But this didn't feel at all right. Her fingers fiddled with the material of her shift. She couldn't bring herself to take it off. Her fingers trembled slightly. "Is...Is there not another way?"
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