If you play with fire, you may get burned.

[Ceilidh Emerson]

Enter, Miss Ceilidh Emerson

Ceilidh was walking around her office with a dazed expression on her face. She was reading the plaques that she had put up on her walls. Most of them were from university, stating that she was valedictorian of her psychology class, stating her many accomplishments in the academic word. But right now, Ceilidh was feeling as though these accomplishments meant nothing. There was such a huge difference between learning about helping someone and actually doing it. Of course, the things you learn in school are essential to your career, but the things you learn while at work are unforgettable. You learn how to be better at what you do and not just how to do it. You learn how to treat people better and how they should be treating you. You learn what to take to heart and what not to. Working, apparently, was still a learning process. And Ceilidh Emerson felt as though she would be learning for the rest of her life.

In a few minutes, the counselor would be having her first session with Christopher Bass, who was here because he lit his grandparent's house on fire. And arsonist. Interesting. This would be her first session with an inmate classed with 'Violent Tendencies'. Ceilidhs wondered if those inmates were actually constantly violent or if they made one violent act and have now been labeled for life. The labeling was another thing Ceilidh didn't much like about Michigan State. Was it really necessary? She liked to believe that everybody was just having a slight setback in their lives and they needed to be straightened out. Was it really necessary to know that this person has sexual tendencies, but this person had a psychological disorder? Well probably. But she still didn't like it.

Ceilidh was snapped out of her reverie when one of the plaques that she had been looking at crashed to the floor. She groaned when she saw all of the broken glass. She quickly crouched over and picked up the larger pieces, tossing them into the garbage can behind her desk. She groaned again when she returned to the scene and saw that some of the smaller pieces of glass had been scattered around everywhere. She got down onto her knees and began crawling around trying to gather as much of the glass as she could, to be sure no one would step on it. She had gotten most of it when she heard the door swing open. She looked up, startled. There, standing in her office was one of the guards, looking down at her like she was one of the inmates caught doing something innapropriate.

"Excuse me, Miss Emerson, but are you ready for your session? If you are busy, I can come back with the kid in a little while..." The guard said, trailing off at the end without actually completing his sentence. She knew that meant there was no other option. The session had to be now or it would be passed over for another councellor to take over. Ceilidh quickly stood up, cupping the tiny shards of glass in her hands. She strode over to the garbage can and dumped the little pieces in. She wiped her pants off before replying to the guard.

"Of course I'm ready. Go and get him. Tell him to knock and then enter." She said, staring straight at him. Sometimes the guards got on her nerves? What on earth did he think she was doing on the ground? She was picking up glass! Ceilidh secretly thought that the guards thought themselves to be more important then the rest of the staff, although she had no idea why. All they really did was escort the inmates from place to place and occasionaly knock someone out. Big deal. Anyone can do that. But it actually takes an education to become a counsellor, nurse or doctor. When the guard didn't move, Ceilidh narrowed her eyes. "Go get Christopher! I do not have all day!"

The guard quickly scurried out of the door, to her surprise. Apparently, Ceilidh could be scary if she wanted to be. She grinned to herself before going back to her desk and sliding into her chair. Once again, she picked up Christopher Bass's application and revised it, making sure she knew as much as she could about him. "An arsonist...This should go over well." She mumbled to herself before putting away the portfolio and replacing it with a notepad and pen. She smoothed out the first page in the book and wrote down his name and the date. She put down her pen and perched her elbows on her desk. She rested her chin in her hands and impatiently watched the door and waited for the knock.

Words? 793
Muse? Yay! I'm excited about this one! (:

[Chris Bass]

CHRIS BASS !

[/color]


- - - - -[/center]

[/i] it was called, by a Terry Pratchett and a Neil Gaiman. He wasn't too far into it to know precisely what it was about, but so far he had gathered an angel called Aziraphale and a demon named Crowley. And so far he liked the book. It was about the battle between good and evil, Heaven and Hell. Two representatives from Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley, were the main characters. He hadn't really been too keen on reading, so the book had been kept in a bag under his so-called bed, but he had gotten up really early this morning, due to a screaming coming from one of the cells. Apparently some patient had been having nightmares about his past or some bullshit like that.
Chris didn't believe he should be in here, so he was quite prejudice against most of the inmates in here. All he had done was set his grandparents' house on fire. Where was the harm in that? Oh sure, their two cats had been inside, and the grandparents COULD'VE been inside, but Chris knew they were away on a weekend vacation, so yeah. He just had had the sudden urge to see something go up in flames, and the house was the closest thing to him. Instead of setting a small object on fire, he decided to go for the jackpot, something big. And the house had been the selection.
When he was getting to a good part in the book, the door handle to his "room" rattled, and a tough-looking guard appeared in his room. Chris groaned. "What do you want?" he asked, putting the book away and getting out of bed. The guard pointed at the door. "You've got a session with Miss Emerson. C'mere," he grunted, and grabbed Chris by the shoulder. The guards at Michigan State were not known for being gentle or kind.
"Let go of me," Chris said, feeling his annoyance rise to a high level, but the guard acted as if he had not heard him. Chris swatted his hand at him, trying to get his bulky hand off his slender shoulder, but the guard, clearly showing mutual annoyance, grabbed Chris and lifted him up in the air with one arm, since he wasn't the heaviest inmate around, carrying him along the corridor. There, he put him down, but kept a firm hand on the shoulder. What was it with these guards? Did they not believe the people here could walk by themselves? The guards were one reason Chris hated this place. They did not respect the privacy or personal space of the 'patients', although Chris did not consider himself to be a 'patient'.
As they neared the office of Ceilidh Emerson, the guard dug his fingers deeper and harder into Chris' shoulder, nearly making him wince. "Wait here and don't move," he demanded and walked further ahead, knocking on the door to Emerson's office.
Chris waited, considering whether he should run off, not really wanting to spend an hour sitting with a counsellor. But he decided against that, and waited. After a short while, the guard came back and shoved him towards the door. "Dude, chill the fuck out!" Chris said, hating being pushed around like this. He shot the guard a deadly glare, and went for the door. He knocked on it, and without waiting for an answer, he went in, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.[/blockquote][/size]

[/ul]

- - - - -

[/b][/color] 594
NOTES - [/color] none
TAGS - [/color] EVERYONE.
LYRICS - [/color] the fire still burns - cradle of filth
CREDIT - [/color] the lovely JILLIEE at CAUTION 2.0
[/ul]

[Ceilidh Emerson]

Ceilidh had been expecting to have to wait a few minutes for the guard to get Chris, so she was surprised to hear a male voice cursing outside her door a few seconds after the guard left her office. Dude, chill the fuck out! The guard must have been using force on Bass to get him to come to counselling. Why the guards didn't just let the inmates come on their own free will was beyond her, and why they had to be violent was even further away. The least they could do was be kind. Did they not know that half of the patients here were emotionally unstable? Provoking half of them would not be wise. Ceilidh had a feeling that Christopher Bass was one of them.

A couple moments later, there was a knock at the door. Ceilidh stood to answer it and was surprised again when the door opened and in walked Chris. Looking completely and utterly annoyed. Ceilidh quietly sighed before smiling gently at Chris. "Hello, Christopher. It is very nice to meet you. My name is Ceilidh and I will be your counselor today." Ceilidh had a strong feeling that it would be best to get this meeting up and running as soon as possible.

Miss Emerson gestured toward one of the brown leather upholstered chairs placed in front of her desk. "Please sit."She said with a smile. She sat down as well and rested her chin in her hands again, watching Chris intently, looking to see if he would fidget under her stare. To see if he was uncomfortable here, to see his main reactions to being in counseling. After a few moments, Ceilidh looked down at the blank notebook page she had ready and picked up her pen. She underlined Chris's name and wrote in the time as well, just for the heck of it. She took a deep breath and was ready to really begin the session.

"So, Chris. What do you say we get down to business, alright?" She paused for a moment and watched him again, to see his emotions about beginning the session. "So, Mr Bass. You are in Michigan State because you lit fire to your granparents' house while they were away. Your application said it was because you 'wanted to see something go out of control'. Am I correct? I would like you to explain to me why you felt the need to light your granparents' house on fire, and why you wanted to see something go out of control. Any detail you can remember please. And the truth would be greatly appreciated seeing as I will end up having the truth anyway. It might as well come from you, don't you think?""

Some may say that Ceilidh's approach to the situation may have been rude, but Ceilidh knew it was probably necessary. She hadn't been speaking with an unkind tone, her voice most likely sounded as kind as ever. It was just a bit more firm. She had a feeling that with Chris, she would most likely have to be direct with her questions if she wanted a direct answer. And she needed direct answers.

Words? 551
Muse? Sorry it took so long!

[Chris Bass]

Miss Emerson didn't seem at all angry at Chris entering the office without her say. Not that it mattered much. Wasn't he supposed to be in here anyway? Why wait outside with the damn guard? As he had thought before, he wanted this session to be quick, and just get it over with as soon as possible. He took a look around the office. Diplomas hung on one side of the wall, quite a few of them, and another wall held pictures of what looked like Miss Emerson's family members, or friends. He didn't know, neither did he care. He was only a patient after all, wasn't he?

"Hello, Christopher,"

[/b] Miss Emerson said, making Chris cringe. It wasn't just that he didn't like people calling him 'Christopher', even though that was his name - he just preferred Chris - it was just that he hated when people who were usually 'higher' than him in the pecking order (authority and such). Though, this one seemed a bit different than the others. There was a sort of a nice tone to her voice, kindness even. But he shrugged it off. This was just another so-called professional, about to tell him that what he did was wrong and that he was rightfully put in this place, Michigan State. As he'd often pointed out, he didn't like this place, but no one ever listened, since so many others, if not everyone, had expressed their dislike for this place. Of course no one liked to be locked up, not being able to go about their business as they pleased. Chris disliked it even more, seeing as he saw himself as a normal person, who just did something that wasn't quite considered to be put under a 'normal behaviour' category.

He noticed Miss Emerson was watching him intently, so he stared right back, the look in his eyes suggesting she should aim her gaze somewhere else. He would never admit it, but sessions with counselors always frightened him. Hey, he wasn't invincible. But there was just something about being locked up with a 'superior' that made him feel uneasy, but he refused to let anyone see it. Chris often came across as a I-really-don't-give-a-damn type, which was partially true, but he wasn't nearly as bad as people thought him to be. It was just the way he somehow appeared to be, but that brings us to what he hates most, people judging a book by its cover. He absolutely hated the way people did that. He looks like this, he must be like that. And some people spoke as if what they thought about him was a pure fact. It made him so mad. Made him want to do something...drastic. Like, setting things on fire. No. Anger wasn't his issue. 'Wanted to see something go out of control'. That was true. All his life, his mother had been a neat freak, a perfectionist, and had of course dragged Chris into it all. Chris didn't realise how bad it had affected him until the night he set the house on fire. Something dawned on him there and then. The satisfaction he had when he poured gasoline on a pile of newspaper, grass and more flammable stuff, and threw a zippo he had taken off a hobo further downtown, onto the pile. Waste of zippo, but he didn't quite think straight. As he watched from the shadows, as the flames devoured the beautiful two story house, he knew that this wouldn't be the last time. He'd do it again. And he'd enjoy it.
How he'd been found out, he didn't know, but he assumed a neighbor had seen him prowling around the house few minutes before the house was lit, and reported him to the police. They had brought him to Michigan State for series of tests and after about a two hour session with a therapist, they had decided that Michigan State would be perfect for him.
Perfect. That thought made Chris always laugh. How was it 'perfect' to lock people up like this? Like animals in cages? The guards made the days living hell, Chris didn't really socialize with the people in here, neither did the others try to socialize with him. Everyone here had problems of their own, problems big enough for them to think only about themselves, and not waste time on others. Chris understood that perfectly. He didn't need to be let into their miserable lives.

"I think I'll stand," Chris said, not wanting to please her in any way. But after a few moments of silence, he sat down in the chair, holding strong to his defensive body posture. He didn't want to give anything away, and even avoided eye contact, scanning the counselor's walls.

"What is there to be said? I lit the house on fire, 'wanted to see something go out of control'. I think it pretty much says it all, don't you think? You seriously think there's something 'bigger' behind all this? The reason I did it? I got bored, it's as simple as that."
Chris felt as if he'd given too much away, so he shut his mouth and said nothing more. This woman wasn't going to get inside his head. If there was one thing that Chris hated more than people judging books by their covers, were therapists. It was his MIND, his business, his privacy, and the fact that people actually got paid to ignore that privacy of people was just... it amazed him. He thought it was stupid and pointless. Sure, if people were feeling awful or whatever, unhappy with their lives and themselves, they could go get their head examined, but Chris was here against his will (as the rest of the inmates were, obviously) and he did not approve of letting people inside his head.
He ran his hand through his hair and resting his hand on the back of his neck, as his fingers brushed at the root, fiddling with strands of his hair, waiting for her reply to what he had said.[/blockquote][/size]

[Ceilidh Emerson]

When Chris said that he would stand, Ceilidh tilted her head to the side and watched him curiously. He was obviously going to be the type who would do whatever he could to be annoying. That didn't bother her though, she could be annoying as well. After a few moments though, Chris sat down in the chair and Ceilidh gave a small smile, that most likely wasn't very kind.

"What is there to be said? I lit the house on fire, 'wanted to see something go out of control'. I think it pretty much says it all, don't you think? You seriously think there's something 'bigger' behind all this? The reason I did it? I got bored, it's as simple as that." Is all that Chris said in response to her questions. Ceilidh raised an eyebrow. She was right, he wasn't going to open up to her. She wasn't worried though, she'd would eventually. She quickly scribbled down a few notes before looking up at Chris again.

"Of course I think there is more behind this. When people get bored, Christopher, they do not light houses on fire." She said his full name because she noticed his cringe when she said it at the beginning of the session. "When people get bored, they go out with their friends or they play sports, or video games. Burning down houses is not what you do for fun when you are bored." If being mean was what it took to get the information out of Chris, then she would be mean. Of course, she didn't enjoy being mean, but sometimes things were necessary.

"Would you care to explain to me why you are unwilling to talk about this with me? I am not stupid, Chris, I know you are trying to get out of here without giving aaway very much. Not talking is not going to get you out of here. If you ever want to leave, you need to be open, okay?" She paused for a moment and ran her hand through her hair. "So Chris, I would like you to tell me a bit about youself, if you don't mind. Like, things you do in your spare time, what you do when you're with your friends, that type of stuff." She smiled kindly at him this time, hoping that he would actually answer. That question was easy, so hopefully he would answer easily. Ceilidh had her doubts though.

Ceilidh was still hoping that Chris would just suddenly spill everything, but she knew that that was highly unlikely. A boy like him would probably hate talking with any councelor about anything, so she didn't take it personnally. Most of the other councelors here would probably have the same problems with him. Hopefully soon, she could get some information out of him that she could document to help the other councelors. Any information would work! Just something from the inside of Chris's head.

Words?519
Muse? Really short, sorry!

[Chris Bass]

As Miss Emerson spoke, Chris' mind wandered again back to the time when he had lit the house on fire. He had enjoyed it a lot, and it wasn't the first time he'd set something on fire. At first it had been only little bonfires, but he had moved onto setting bigger things on fire, such as the neighbor's kid's bike, although the only thing that actually burned had been the seat of the bike. At the time Chris wouldn't have dreamed of setting a house on fire, but as he grew up, his mind wandered to bigger and somewhat better things.

"There isn't a reason behind this," Chris said again, his voice more quiet now as he felt a head ache coming on. He wished this session to be over now. He looked at the clock; it had only been ten minutes since he got into the room. He cursed in his mind.

A minute passed before he spoke again, and he let out another sigh. He was tired of playing a tough guy all the time, which he had been almost forced to do all his life, around his parents and 'friends'. He just didn't want people messing with him or trying to get inside his head, as the counselor's job was to do. But he was tired now. He wanted to go home - or any place other than this.

"It's not that I'm unwilling to talk about this, it's just that..." He chose his next words carefully. "It's just that I want to get out of here. I personally don't think I belong here, not here with all the crazies running around," Chris said.

Now she was asking him about himself. He hated when people asked that question. He wasn't at all that interesting enough. He was just a boy who had gone through a lot, and never talked about it. What was there to talk about? Opening up to a stranger only led to problems and bad situations, like Chris himself had so often been in.

Friends? She asked him what he did when he was with his friends. How was he supposed to answer that, being the type who never had friends, but acquaintances. It wasn't that he didn't want friends or anything, he just... well, to be honest, he was a little bit afraid. Because having friends, good friends, meant opening up, and he just didn't feel as if he could trust just anyone. So he stayed away from the friend-trend, keeping mostly to himself. But he did sometimes go to parties, just to get wasted. He did sometimes find himself talking to others, and quite enjoying it under the influences of alcohol and the occasional drugs, but as soon as he realised it, he backed out immediately. It had proven to be much less difficult, and made life more easier, having only himself to take care of.
His parents. They were all right. They gave him a roof over his head, and gave him food, but that was almost it. Over the years, they had grown distant, or more like, Chris had grown distant from them, not really wanting much to do with them. He had never been very close with his parents, but they had always managed to keep it a secret; everyone always thought they were a very close family, but it couldn't've been further from the truth.

His attention was brought back by the noise of Miss Ceilidh's pen falling down on the floor. As she went down to pick it up, Chris let himself closer against the back of the chair, trying to think of what to say, without letting his guard down. He was unable to think of anything, feeling his head ache grow. He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to his head, massaging his temple with his fingers.

[Ceilidh Emerson]

Ceilidh sighed as Chris said once again that there wasn't a reason behind this. Maybe he didn't feel like there was a reason, but there was, without a doubt, a reason! People do not just light houses on firewithout reasoning behind it, that made no logical sense in Ceilidh's mind. Ceilidh had always found patients with violent tendencies much more difficult to help, and Chris Bass was no exception. Maybe it was the fact that most of the time, they showed no apparent signs of illnesses, or maybe it was the fact that practically all of them were convinced that they didn't need help. It would be so much easier if the patients actually wanted to get better, so much easier.

Ceilidh then waited for Christopher to answer her next question, and she was slightly surprised by his answer. "It's not that I'm unwilling to talk about this, it's just that...It's just that I want to get out of here. I personally don't think I belong here, not here with all the crazies running around," His answer made no sense either. Ceilidh's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Chris...If you want to get out, you have to talk. I know you don't think you belond here, no one thinks they belong here...but keeping everything bottled up inside your mind will help no one." She didn't understand why most of the inmates insisted that they didn't belong here, that they wanted to get out, but they wouldn't talk. They were putting two completely different things together!

Chris was then silent after her questions about him. Was he not comfortable talking about himself? That wouldn't come as much of a surprise, really. Most people weren't very comfortable talking about themselves. And maybe asking about friends had been a mistake. Ceilidh knew all about not having friends. She'd only had Lily. Maybe Chris was the same way, it was very possible. Ceilidh felt sort of bad for asking that question now, but she had really wanted to know. Maybe he had had friends that had influenced him in bad ways, maybe the friends had told him to light the house on fire. But if there were no friends to add to this equation...Chris's was a very tough case.

As Ceilidh went to pick up her pen again, she knocked it off her desk and onto the ground. As she bent to pick it up, she remembered something. Dropping. Maybe when she had brought Chris's file into her office, she had dropped a page. It was very possible. And maybe that page had contained important information. Maybe from his parent's or other councelors. Ceilidh felt a sudden wave of hope that maybe there was a missing page, so she decided she would go and look for it.

"Chris, I have to leave you in here for like...5 minutes, all right? I'm just heading over to the staff room. Can I trust you in here on your own for that period of time?" Ceilidh said, as she stood up and walked over to the door. She glaned at Chris once more beofre quickly scurrying out the door and down the hall. What could go wrong? There was nothing sharp in there taht he could hurt himself with, the window was reinforced with metal mesh, just like in any of the other rooms, there were guards stationed down the hall in case he tried to run...No. Nothing would go wrong. She would just go into the staff room, check Chris's files and make sure she hadn't missed anything.

Ceilidh opened the door to the staff room and stepped inside, closing the door after herself. She went over to the filing cabinet and looked under B...

Words? 663
Muse? Oh yeah! Fire baby! Exciting (:

[Chris Bass]

"Keeping everything up inside your mind will help no one."

[/i] Of course it didn't help anyone, but it wasn't any of Emerson's business whether Chris bottled everything inside or not. Well, maybe it was some of her business, now that he was locked up in her, but that did not mean he liked it, not one bit.

"Chris, I have to leave you in here for like... 5 minutes, all right?" I'm just heading over to the staff room. Can I trust you in here on your own for that period of time?"[/i] As Miss Emerson spoke those words, an idea sparked within Chris. And five minutes were just about enough for that specific plan. As Emerson went outside the office, Chris jumped to his feet and moved really quickly towards her desk. He tried the drawers, half-surprised to find them unlocked. He rummanged through files and paperclips and random stuff, unimportant, until he found what he had been hoping for, although he hadn't quite expected it to be there. A box of matches. He had no idea whether Miss Emerson smoked or not, but she looked like that kind of woman who sometimes relaxed in a candle-filled room, so he was sure he'd find something, either a lighter or a box of matches. He grabbed it and put it in his jean's pocket, gathering a stack of files, papers and such, and dropped to the floor. He put it all together in a good pile and reached into his pocket for the matches. He hesitated slightly, not to ponder whether or not he should go through with this plan, but to listen for sounds yet again. He heard nothing. He picked one match from the box, drew it against the red line and watched in awe as the stick sparked fire. He made sure it was fully lit, and put it to the pile of paper, watching it catch fire. He was careful, careful not to put the fire out by accident. The fire grew bigger and bigger, until it nearly reached Chris' face as he bent over it.
As the fire grew larger, it reached the curtains of the office's window, and the fire licked its way higher and higher, until it was fully ablaze. Chris stood back and watched as if in trance. He made no attempt to move as smoke began to fill the room. It was as if he were hypnotized.
The fire alarm went off as the smoke reached it, and the sprinklers went off, but the fire had already grown so much, that the water wasn't successful in killing it. Instead, it kept spreading until it reached the door. [/size][/blockquote]

[Ceilidh Emerson]

Ceilidh was flipping through the pages of Chris’ files angrily. There were no other pages, no pages that she hadn’t seen! The counselor was feeling very stupid for even thinking that there may have been another page. She would have noticed if she had dropped something! Ceilidh huffed and put the pages back inside the filing cabinet and rested her elbows on top of it. She ran a hand through her dark hair before sighing and standing up straight. She had to get back to her office.

She quietly exited to staff room, and locked the door behind herself. She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she walked down the sterile corridor. After walking a few feet, her head shot up. She thought she had smelled smoke. But a moment later, the smell was gone. Ceilidh shrugged and continued on her way, assuming that someone outside had been smoking. Suddenly, as her office grew nearer, the fire alarm went off and she saw smoke billowing out from beneath a door. Her door. Oh. No. Ceilidh broke into a run and quickly threw open the door to her office, only to be faced by flames.

Ceilidh took a few rapid steps backwards before screaming. “Chris! My office!” Oh god, what was she supposed to do? The fire was spreading quickly, too quickly. Someone had to do something, anything, before Chris was burned to death and her office completely destroyed. Her office! The room she had personally decorated and bought furniture for, the room she had worked so hard on. Burnt to a crisp. Her eyes were stinging, whether it was from tears or the smoke, she didn’t know. Ceilidh contemplated entering the room to get Chris, but that was not an option. The doorway was completely engulfed in orange flames which were spreading down the hall, along the walls and floors.

Ceilidh looked around for a fire extinguisher, but found none. She began to panic slightly. She ran back down the hallway, trying to find something that could help. Oh god, where was everyone?! Were they all away on business or something? Hello! She needed help here! She was pretty much in the main hall before she found some guards that she could alert. One of them called the fire department, and another followed her down the hall. Ceilidh’s heart was beating rapidly in her chest. Because she had left her office in a stupid attempt to find out more, Michigan State was on fire.

Words? 419
Muse? So very short! (should other people be getting in on this now?)

[Chris Bass]

Chris looked around the room, realising he had cornered himself in the room. Why hadn't he been smart enough and left the room immediately after setting it on fire? He realised it a bit too late, as the fire began to lick its way closer towards him. He froze, what was he supposed to do know. But a small smile edged on his face, when he watched the fire grow rapididly out of control - when was fire ever in control, anyway? - and backed closer to the wall, avoiding the smoke and heat. Ever since he was a kid, he'd always been mesmerized by the sight of fire, watching its tongue burn down everything it could reach. Of course, no one had never suspected a thing, that this fascination might some day become a dangerous rush for the boy.

He felt smoke fill his lungs and he started to choke; his hands flung up to his neck as he tried to catch his breath, but he was unsuccessful. If he wouldn't get out there soon, he would either suffocate or burn to death. Neither was a choice he liked. Even though Chris loved fire and burning stuff, his mind rarely wandered towards the fact that one day he might actually get hurt himself. It was as if he was almost oblivious to that thought, because all that mattered to him at the moment of igniting a fire, was the feeling of the adrenaline rush kicking in, watching it all go up in flames. And now he was about to pay the price for it. As his mother had always told him when he was a kid, if you play with fire, you may get burned.

As the fire grew and grew, and so did the smoke, Chris dropped down on his knees, feeling slightly dizzy due to the lack of oxygen, since the fire was burning it all up as it grew. He coughed and crawled towards the door, hoping to be quick enough before the fire spread to the door. He managed to get up on his knees and finally brought himself up to his feet, staggering towards the door as he felt the smoke sink deeper into his lungs. He burst through the door and fell against a security guard that was running towards the office, and toppled onto the floor, coughing and sputtering, before taking a deep breath of semi-fresh air, that was better than no air at all, of course. He lay against the cold walls and his chest heaved as he listened to the frantic cries of Ceilidh Emerson, as she watched her office go up in flames.
But despite all of that, getting himself nearly killed, Chris still managed a smile. A sick smile, almost, but that could probably be only because of the excitement he experienced these past five minutes or so.
He watched the panicked face of Miss Emerson, and smiled to himself again. Not that he had anything against Emerson - on the contrary, she had been proven kind to him, and if there was a counselor Chris liked, it would probably be Emerson, even though he hated almost everyone who had tried to dig into his emotional affairs - he still loved seeing the reactions of the people at moments like these.

[Kirsten Elle Barker]

shush girl, shut your lips ,
( DO THE HELLEN KELLER & TALK WITH YO HIPS )

K

[/color]irsten was not looking forward to her counseling session. She didn’t look forward to any of her sessions. They were petty things that she didn’t need. It was stupid for her to keep going if she didn’t need any help. But she didn’t want what had happened the first time to repeat itself. The guards had actually picked her up and carried her to the room. How she resented these guards. She didn’t go willingly though. She complained all the way there and she wasn’t very cooperative during the session either. It usually irritated the councilor, which made them even more determined to make her open up which made Kirsten more annoyed. She wasn’t going to talk to the damn people who locked her in here. She was just fine with keeping them inside of her. Talking to them wasn’t going to help her since she was a happy young woman. Well, she wasn’t really happy but she was healthy. That was a much better way to put it.
She walked down the hall, two guards and a nurse around her. She really didn’t need the company. The institution scheduled her appointments and they felt the need to make sure she went to them since the judge had said it was mandatory. Of course, she might not go to them without all of the security, but she hated these people breathing down her back. The guards were especially annoying. They glared at her when she complained and gave her nervous glances as if she was going to run for it at any second. Normally, she would have but she knew better since the first experience. Running wasn’t going to do her any good. She sighed. She hoped that she wouldn’t die here. Even if she did, she would do her damn best to get out before she did die.
There was an odd smell. She knew this smell. Was it smoke? Her ears picked up a loud scream. Apparently, the guards and nurse heard it too. One of the guards ran ahead around the corner. When he came back, he didn’t look happy. His expression was panicked and even a little bit frightened. He motioned to the other guard and the nurse who looked at Kirsten hesitantly.
“Stay here,” the nurse commanded, glaring at her. Kirsten shrugged and crossed her arms arrogantly. The three watched her uncertainly before leaving. Kirsten knew that this was a great opportunity to escape. She wouldn’t have to go to counseling and could hide in the forest. Her curiosity though, was getting the better of her. Slowly, she went around the corner and peeked. What she saw was shocking. The hall was catching fire. One of the councilor’s offices had been engulfed in flames. One kid was coughing by the wall. A councilor – who seemed to be the one who screamed – was watching her room turn into a mess of heat and destruction. Guards were looking around for water and she saw other inmates and councilors evacuating.
Kirsten walked into the hallway, her mouth open a little. What if this whole place burned down? It might be her ticket out of here. Or she just might die in the fire. That was all right too, she just hadn’t wanted to die in a mental institution. She sighed, exasperated. This place was going to need a lot of water; she just didn’t know where to get it from. The sprinklers weren’t really doing a good job and she didn’t expect the fire department to be there very soon. So, what were they going to do now? She looked through the door into the office. It was really too bad. The office looked really cozy inside. Maybe, there was something inside. There was a big gaping hole, but it wouldn’t be easy to breathe. Quickly, she ripped off a part of her sleeve and jumped through the fiery door and into the burning office. She used the torn part of her sleeve and covered her mouth. Now, where should she look?
Kirsten walked over to the desk, avoiding the flames on the floor. She had done scarier and more dangerous things than this. She opened a drawer and searched through it. There wasn’t anything in there that was useful. She opened a couple other drawers. There was pens, scissors, other office supplies, notebooks… Was there anything she could use to help stop the fire in here? She looked around in a panic. The flames were now reaching towards the far end of the room and more were climbing up a book shelf. She felt sympathetic for the councilor at there. Kirsten decided she would do what she could even though she hated all councilors. She grabbed a couple notebooks including the one on the desk and a pen. She then ran over to the book shelf and grabbed as many books as she could fit in her hands. She ran over to the doorway, dropping the cover she had created for her mouth. She started coughing as she jumped through the door. She dropped all of the books by the councilor and sank to her knees coughing.
It hadn’t been long but the deep breath she had taken in the room had filled her lungs with a lot of smoke. She coughed and a hand flew to her heart. That councilor totally owed her. She bent over and put her other hand on the floor. As the coughs subsided, she moved herself into a sitting position and started breathing in clean air. Michigan State would have to be evacuated until the firemen came unless people wanted to die. She had heard that there had been some suicidal kids. They would be pretty happy about this then. She wondered if maybe she would be able to escape in the confusion. For that to happen, she would need pliers. The guards would be pretty busy so they wouldn’t notice one little girl gone missing. If they inspected the place though, they would know someone had escaped and they would find out it was Kirsten and she would probably have police on her tail.
She didn’t know yet. She didn’t even know why she had tried to help the councilor. All she knew at the moment was that she didn’t feel good right now and was going to need a lot of help breathing with all the smoke she had taken in.

black dress , with tights underneath,
( SHE'S GOT A TRUST FUND, FROM HER PARENTS BACK EAST )

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word count , bby --*1072
lyrics , darling --* don't trust me , by 3OH!3
comments , doll --* I actually like this post! XD
wake up , the credits are rolling --* abbie.doll of caution 2.0 made this!
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[Katsuo Stride]

Katsuo was rushing down the corridor from the cafeteria to get to the counselors' hallway in time for his counseling session. It wasn't like he would be late for the actual meeting, but he had been told to get there earlier just in case. He was a procrastinator on all counts, but he really respected Ceilidh and he didn't want to let her down. Actually, this would be his first session in a while anyway, and despite what it may seem like, he was actually looking forward to it. He hadn't really been able to have a good chat with the woman since his last session, which had been--it seemed--some time ago.

Rounding a corner to the stairs that led to the counseling hallway, Katsuo smelled the smoke first. It him like a brick wall all at once and he almost lost his balance on the stairs. He began to panic. The smoke was so strong, but he didn't see a fire anywhere...What was happening? Where was it coming from?
Eager to get away from the poisonous fog, Katsuo got to his hands and knees and began crawling up the steps instead, only stopping to lift the neck of his shirt to cover his mouth and nose. It wouldn't do much in the long run, but it at least lessened the blow of the smoke itself.
It was the scream that spurred him on--a scream he was pretty sure belonged to his counselor.

Moving quicker up the stairs, Katsuo reached the main part of the counseling hallway and almost immediately recognized his counselor and a friend, Kirsten. Horrified, he abandoned his attempts to cover his mouth with his shirt and started ducking his way towards them instead. Both looked extremely distressed. So much so that it was making him more frightened.

Katsuo didn't know if he believed in heaven or hell, but if hell existed...well, this had to be it. He felt measly drops of water sputtering down on him from the sprinklers in the ceiling. They were probably years and years old--how were they going to be able to put out this immense fire? He blinked away the droplets of water and finally managed to reach his counselor's side, slipping slightly because the floor was suddenly wet too.

"Ceilidh...wh--what happened?" He looked over at Kirsten, concerned, wondering why she was there. He knew Kirsten well enough to know that she wasn't likely the one who had started the fire. If anyone had started the fire...Looking at another boy in the hallway, a boy Katsuo didn't really know, he recognized something between mesmerization and horror on his face and instantly felt bad. He must have been shell-shocked. Had he been in the office when it caught flame?

That was when Kirsten did the unexpected and dived back into the room. It took a moment for Katsuo to even grasp what had happened, but he was horrified. Did she have a death wish? He even wondered if at some point he had dared her, after all their truth and dare games, to blindly leap into a fire, but he knew he could never have said anything that stupid.

Katsuo began choking on the black smoke again and had to lift his shirt up once more to cover his nose and mouth. What was she doing? He was really nervous now. But he felt more nervous just waiting there and watching. It didn't seem like any of the guards were willing to go in there and help her...Katsuo had seen Kirsten holding something to her mouth to keep the smoke at bay, but...what happened if she passed out? If she took in too much?

Katsuo's hands were actually shaking. "Ceilidh..." She wasn't going to like this. He didn't even like it. "Uhhh...If this were a game of truth or dare, I would pick truth, like you ask...okay? And..." he coughed. "The truth is, I need to go help a good friend. S-sorry!"

He started moving forward without really thinking, after that. It seemed to him that if he thought about what he was doing too much, he wouldn't do it. Or he would panic more and make things worse. In a way, he knew he was worsening the situation, but even if he could just find out if Kirsten was okay, that was enough. For some reason, he didn't seem to be thinking about how that fire would feel if he let the fire touch him. The scene in Spiderman where the hero saved the little girl seemed to be playing through his head. Too bad real life wasn't like the movies.

Katsuo got into the room...
And he could see nothing. Absolutely nothing, but black smoke. He had no idea where Kirsten was or what she was doing or even if she was okay. The fire was so intense, he couldn't even imagine how it had started. Poor Ceilidh...her beautiful office...
At least she's all right, he told himself, dropping lower to the ground again to see if he could breathe better and find his truth or dare buddy.

Looking toward the wall where all the plants had been in the office, Katsuo felt an unexplainable sadness when he saw Ceilidh and his favorite bonsai plant being reduced to mere ashes. He knew if he didn't find Kirsten soon, he would be in the same boat as well.
"K--Kirsten?" He coughed.

At that same moment, he felt something--or someone--rush by him, presumably in the direction of the doorway, and realizing it was likely the only person who had been in the room besides himself, he began crawling back the way he had come.

Please have been Kirsten, please...
He wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he'd mistaken a gust of wind to be someone passing him by and he'd left his friend inside.

He pulled himself through the doorway just as the flames began licking it back up, and tumbling into the hallway, Katsuo realized the bottom of one of his pants legs had caught fire. Panicking, Katsuo pulled off his overshirt and began to snuff it out.


Muse: Whoa--this thread is exciting already! ()
Outfit: Outfit here!
Word Count: 1116 (Uh oh...I think I got carried away....)

[Jodie Tanaka]

Jodie sighed, as she walked towards the hallway where the counseling sessions were held. She had yet to meet her counselor, who was named Ceilidh Emerson, from what she had heard. She was pretty sure Katsuo had her too, but she couldn't really remember. She didn't really want to go, to be honest. She had been perfectly content to just sit in her cell and draw on the walls. She'd gotten into a little bit of trouble for "vandalizing the institution", but whatever. It was just marker, it would come off eventually. And if not, it wasn't really her problem. Needless to say, the day hadn't started out very well. The term 'depressed' barely described her at the moment. She hated this place. That was it. Not all of the people here, but just this place in general. She absolutely hated it here, and she wanted out. She hadn't even been here a week yet and she was already sick of it. She was sick of people thinking she was nuts and people trying to "help" her when she didn't need it.

Sighing, Jodie's eyes suddenly went wide. Did she smell smoke? Did someone just scream? Jodie stopped in her tracks for a moment, before proceeding onward, a bit nervous as she heard her heart pound in her chest. This couldn't be good. Jodie coughed as the smell of burning hit her more strongly. Definitely not good. She followed the smell, not thinking that it probably wouldn't be a good idea. Was that Katsuo that just ran past her? Her brow furrowed, Jodie followed, unsure of what awaited her. Jodie quickly ascended up the stairs, the smell of smoke only getting more and more potent as she got higher. It was true, apparently, that hot air rises. Jodie stopped dead in her tracks, seeing a group of three people standing in the hallway. One, an older girl with dark hair, the second, a blonde girl about her age, and the third one she recognized as Katsuo.

Jodie stood and watched for a moment, covering her mouth with her hands as she gasped when the blonde girl rushed into the room, smoke flowing out of the door. She nearly screamed when Katsuo ran in after the girl did. Why were they going back in there? Was there someone stuck in the room or something? Oh geez, this was bad. Jodie quickly walked over closer to the door, coughing again as the smell of smoke hit her in the face. Jodie stood a good ten feet away from the counselor, biting her lip as she anxiously watched the door. She said nothing, but it seemed like time passed very, very slowly. Suddenly, both the kids had emerged from the door. The blonde girl coughed quite a bit, and then a few seconds later, Katsuo came out as well. Jodie starred, wide-eyed at the three of them, and glanced at the door. She really had no idea what to say or do, or even think. What had caused the fire in the first place? Was anyone hurt? Jodie only could hope that there were firefighters on the way. From the looks of it, it was one of the counseling offices that had caught on fire somehow. It was kind of sick, really.

Jodie frowned, still starring at the group of three up ahead of her. She was kind of shocked by all of this, and found herself unable to move or think or do anything really. She wasn't sure if she should go find a staff member somewhere and get them to come and help, or if she should just go back to her cell, or go outside where it was safe. None of her thoughts in her head were making much sense. She wanted to cry for some reason, but really she was just plain confused. As much as she hated this place, this was kind of terrible. People could've gotten really badly hurt, and she had no idea how the fire had gotten started. It could've been as simple as someone leaving a curling iron on, or microwaving the wrong kind of container. Or maybe it was more serious than that. She really had no clue. All Jodie could do was stand there and watch.

[Ceilidh Emerson]

Ceilidh was afraid. Chris hadn't gotten out of her office yet. He could be burning to death at that very moment and she couldn't do anything about it. She would obviously be blamed for his death if he were to die, it was her office after all, and she had left Chris alone in there! But she hadn't in her wildest dreams thought that her office would catch fire the moment she left the room, it was so unlikely! It was so horrible! The office that she had spent so much time working on was probably now a huge pile of ashes. All of her books and notebooks. All of her files. All of her brand new furniture. Gone. And there was nothing she could do about it. And why weren't the sprinklers at least helping the situation some? Weren't they supposed to at least restrain the fire to keep it from spreading? Why weren't they doing their job? It was probably because they are ancient, like everything else at Michigan State. Ancient and crumbling and unable to be fixed. Just her luck.

As Ceilidh stared into the flaming office, the fire was beginning to spread down the hall. The counselor already knew that she was most likely going to be fired, unless they could find out how the fire had been started. Which was highly unlikely is everything was burnt to a crisp. Unless of course...Unless...Chris...Before she could finish that thought though, a certain someone came stumbling out of her burning office and flung himself upon one of the guards who was stationed outside of her office. And who was this certain someone? Well my friends, that was one Christopher Bass, who had adorned his face with an evil grin. Ceilidh Emerson then had a feeling that her suspicions had, indeed, been correct. Mr. Bass had started the fire. And he looked glad.

It took all of her strength to keep from screaming curses at Chris, but she managed. Only because she knew that she would lose her job in seconds if she was found shrieking profanities at an inmate. A mentally unstable teenager. But then again, he had completely destroyed her office, which contained every sliver of information she had ever written about psychology, her patients and her schoolwork. Ceilidh felt as though she was about to experience a mental breakdown. Imagine that. The counselor that is supposed to help those having mental breakdowns actually having one. That sure wouldn't go over well.

One of the guards went up to her and announced that the fire department had been called and that they would be arriving soon. Ceilidh nodded and bit her lip anxiously. Soon probably wouldn’t be soon enough. Out of nowhere, Katsuo appeared next to her, and began speaking. “Ceilidh... wh--what happened?" Ceilidh shook her head solemnly, forcing herself to keep the tears out of her eyes. She had to be strong. She had to accept that fact that yes, her lovely office was destroyed, but also the fact that people might get hurt. Ceilidh then saw a movement toward the door, but she couldn’t tell exactly what it was from the smoke that was billowing around it. Before Ceilidh could answer Katsuo’s question though, he spoke again. "Ceilidh...Uhhh...If this were a game of truth or dare, I would pick truth, like you ask...okay? And the truth is, I need to go help a good friend. S-sorry!" And then he was gone.

He had ran through the door. Her office door. Into the room that was on fire. Another person must have jumped in there as well. That's probably what he meant by 'helping a good friend'. She didn't like this one bit. He had used her lesson the complete wrong way! The wrong damnway! Ceilidh Emerson, normally a calm and composed individual was literally freaking out. "Katsuo! Get back out here now! Why are you in there! Get out!" She yelled after him and began to run back toward the door, only to be restrained by two guards who were stationed outside the door. They told her that she couldn't go in, that it was too dangerous. "But not dangerous enough to stop two kids from running inside? Get help!" The guards pushed her back toward the wall where she was standing earlier, telling her that she really did need to stand back. They couldn't have injured staff.

Ceilidh put all her weight against the wall behind her back and groaned, covering her face with her hands. This was all her fault. If she hadn't left the room...If she hadn't been stupid enough to think that maybe there was more to Chris's file...but she had, and she was, and now she had to pay. She prayed to the lord that Katsuo and whoever had dived into the room before him would get out, seeing as the guards didn't want to do anything and the firefighters weren't here yet. They would have to evactuate Michigan State soon, if they didn't stop the fire.

Ceilidh was startled out of her thoughts when she felt something drop on her foot and she heard coughing. She looked down to see a pile of books and a girl. The girl sounded as though she was about to cough up one of her lungs. Ceilidh crouched over to see if she was okay, but by the time she was down there, her coughing had subsided and she was now sitting more comfortably. Ceilidh also sat down on the floor, noticing for the first time another girl standning off to the side and watching the spectacle. How many people were coming to see this? Too many. Ceilidh groaned again and put her head on her knees. While her head was down, she saw the title of one of the book. Depression 101. One of her university text books. Ceilidh quickly scanned the remainder of the titles and saw that they were all books and notebooks from her bookshelves in her office. That girl had pretty much just risked her life to get those out of there, Ceilidh stared at her in awe. She would have never been brave enough to do that herself. Ever.

"I...Thank you so much." Ceilidh whispered right as Katsuo came hurdling through the doorway with his pant leg on fire. He pulled off one of his shirts and began beating the fire out of it. Tears sprang into Ceilidh's eyes and one slid down her cheek. She hastily whiped it away before standing up and pulling Katsuo into a hug. "Thank god you are okay." When she let go, she turned back to the blond girl. "And you too. How can I repay you?"

The fire was now spreading down the wall and the guards were actually backing up, telling everyone that they had to get the hell out of that hallway if they wanted to survive the day. Ceilidhs expression quickly went from relieved to panicked.

Words? 1227
Muse? It may be long, but it's pretty crappy
Tagged? EVERYBODY!

[Chris Bass]

As Chris scrambled away from the fire, his grin started to fade, and a look of seriousness took over. He knew he'd done it now. When he had lit his grandparents' house on fire, he knew no one was in there. But he had deliberately set Miss Emerson's office on fire, knowing that he'd be risking lives, and he was ... he didn't really know how to feel about that anymore. Before, he'd been delighted, glad even, but now, as he watched two of the inmates run in and out of the fire, one carrying a pile of books, an idea went through his head. What if he could make amends for what he did? Surely, he'd never be able to get off scot's free, but at least he could soothe his conscience in some way.

He scrambled to his feet, clutching at his chest as he felt a fit of coughing take over him. The smoke began to fill his lungs once again, and he heard the guards shout at everyone to run away, unless they had a death wish. Chris didn't have a death wish, not at all, but something inside him stirred and made him move towards the room. A guard noticed him, and went for him, trying to push him back, but he dodged under the guard's outstretched arm and ran for the blazing fire. He brought his hand up to his mouth, trying not to inhale too much smoke as he felt the heat around him.
"What are you doing?" a voice inside him said. "This is crazy, you'll get yourself killed." Chris ignored the voice as he went through the door, or where there had previously been a door. He kicked the remainded of it that lay on the floor, away as it was in his way. "Do you have any idea how stupid this is? What are you trying to prove? That there's something good in you after all? Please, as if anyone would believe that."
"Shut up," Chris said out loud. Great, now he was hearing voices. That's actually what I need right now, he thought and mentally snorted at himself. He moved over to Emerson's desk, gathering various files that lay on the table, some slightly burnt, some not. It was then when he noticed how stupid he had been. He'd prove nothing by this. When he'd get out, the guard would knock him down, and he'd get sent to prison or juvenile, after they'd kick him out of Michigan State. Ha, that'd be a first, getting kicked out of a mental institute. Either that, or he'd get locked up for the rest of his life in one of them padded cells, for crazies and nutcases. Chris wasn't one of those, he kept telling himself that every single day.

The fire hadn't reached the table yet, but it was very close to. Chris felt the fire all around him, feeling it tear at his clothes. As he opened the drawers, trying to get more personal stuff for Emerson, he felt a searing pain at his leg and looked down to find it fully ablaze. He shook his leg, trying to kill the fire, but it only made matters worse; the fire seemed to climb higher up his leg. He felt his time run out, and went back for the door, coughing violently. He soon reached the hallway, and stumbled out of the smoke, collapsing on the floor for the second time, this time he had was unable to gather strength to get back up.