[M] Phobophobia [Midoripickle | Alter Ego]
This RP is rated M for possible adult content, including (but not limited to) mention/use of drugs, adult love, gore, language, etc. Read at your own caution.
OOC
Heels clicked further down the hallway, the tap, tap, tap reverberating off of the stone walls. A woman's, no doubt, with thin and pointy heels that fit devastatingly beautifully on the long slender legs of the woman who wore and owned those shoes. Each step had determination in it and reeked of power, the kind of power that no one dared stand up to.
It was that kind of power that made Hoover scramble away from the mirror, his hair not as disheveled as he would have liked it to have been. Hoover stood in the center of the dark, dank, small "room" he was given upon arrival to Phobos Academy, the most renown phobia-curing academy in all of the United States, if not the world. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, his entire body stiffened as the tapping of the Headmistress's shoes approached Hoover's room.
Occasionally she would stop at one of the other rooms, opening up the one-sided door and instructing the students inside to follow the security up to the top floor. Hoover wasn't sure if he wanted to be one of those other kids or not; they would get out of their rooms and get to see sunlight for the first time in--god, who knew how long?--but at the same time, who ever knew what Headmistress had in store for her students? Some were lucky, and got to live a normal school life on the highest floor of the building, receiving the best treatment that enabled their release in just a few months. A few, however, like Hoover, were subjected to a different kind of treatment, one that was much more crude and left Hoover waking up in cold sweat nearly every night.
Hoover didn't get much of a choice. Headmistress paused outside of his cell, staring at Hoover with icy gray eyes.
"Tumble, Hoover," she said, her voice as cold as Hoover's room. His spine straightened more than he thought possible. "Out. Follow the guards, keep your head down, and sit at the table."
The boy said nothing as the heavy door swung open with a groan. Headmistress had already continued her walk down her runway, leaving the two bulky guards behind at either side of Hoover's room. He avoided their gazes and kept his mouth shut as he followed the younger girl in front of him.
His heart raced as his mind ran with the possibilities of what would be about to unfold as soon as he finished going up those stairs. Would he be subjected to more embarrassment, placed on that terrible stage with a bright spotlight on nothing but him, laid bare in front of all the other students of Phobos for their sheer amusement? His hands went clammy at the thought of it, and he found himself frantically glancing around at the passing students' faces in fear that they were watching him, judging him, waiting to jeer at him.
Sooner than he realized, he had reached the main hall of the upper floor of Phobos Academy, the nicest floor of them all. Polished marble columns lined either side of a luscious red velvet carpet, which laid atop a black and white checkered tiled floor. On the walls were large pictures of Headmistress with children whom she had "cured" of their worst fears. Hoover wondered if he would ever be up there, too, with the same lethargic eyes and forced smile that the graduates wore.
Without much more time to gaze, the guards ushered Hoover and the remaining students into the mess hall, where eight long elegant tables of mahogany stretched horizontally in rows of two. A dark blue stretch of fabric rolled from one end of the table to the other, and in front of each seat was a neatly folded piece of blank paper with a printed name on it. Hoover was guided into a chair with a high back, which he slid in to before scooting closer to the table. His name was typed on the paper in front of him, but he couldn't read the name the empty seat to his right belonged to. To the best of his ability, he kept his gaze along the ground, not daring to look above the rims of his thick glasses. Quiet muttering was exchanged between the students. Hoover joined in on it so as not to look like the odd one out.
A few minutes passed until the hall fell so silent that the faint buzzing of a fly could be heard. A loud smack sounded, and the buzzing halted. The Headmistress stood up on the wide stage at her podium, her ruby red lips peeled back to reveal blinding white teeth. She gazed around the room, her eyes not meeting her smile. The tension in the air was so thick with fear that Hoover could have cut it with a knife.
"Students," she said, the microphone picking up her voice. "Today, we welcome new arrivals. You are all aware of the rules that you repeat day in and day out. I don't think I need to warn you about the consequences that may follow should you fail to obey any and all of them." Headmistress's steely eyes glowered at a girl near the front of the stage with dark skin and a brown bob. From Hoover's table, he could see the girl's lower lip tremble. Headmistress appeared as though she was suppressing a smirk and continued on. "Those of you without roommates, you will once again have one."
Headmistress droned on about the rules and expectations, the same shpeal that had been given only a few months prior. Hoover's mind drifted to the thought of having a new roommate. His previous one had eerily left out of nowhere nearly a month ago. When Hoover had returned from his therapy, all of his roommate's belongings were gone. Even the bed had been stripped of its previous sheets.
Each night was horror-filled and lonely for Hoover. He couldn't stand being alone, couldn't stand having no one to talk to, couldn't stand being in the cold dark with no one to comfort him. Though Hoover usually wasn't one to get a good night's sleep, that past month had been particularly bad for him. He found he could only sleep in short intervals before getting up and pacing, murmuring to himself and running his fingers through his hair and wishing he was anywhere but here.
"...Without further ado--" Headmistress's new trail of thought snapped Hoover out of his reverie, "--please welcome your new classmates to Phobos Academy."
The double doors on the far right of the room opened, and sloppy lines of new faces slowly made their way in. Security guards asked the students for their names before sending them to their corresponding seats. One boy in particular, who was rather tall and had dark, sloppy hair, was directed to the seat next to Hoover. Hoover felt his ears go pink. He gripped the sides of his chair, digging his nails into the polished wood. His breathing grew shallow. Hoover didn't know what was worse, the thought of this boy being someone who could tease Hoover or the thought of him being broken like nearly everyone else in the room.
When everyone was seated, Headmistress cleared her throat and began to speak once more. Servers in neat white tuxedos paraded out, each carrying a large tray and setting it on top of the tables. Hoover's eyes bugged out as he saw the food. Actual food. It took every ounce of his willpower not to rip the top of the tray off and dig in.
"Children, if someone new is seated next to you--congratulations! you now have a new roommate. Prepare to be spending quite a bit of time with them, as you will be showing them the ropes of Phobos and teaching them our ways." Again, she flashed that lupine smile. "Please, enjoy your dinners. Cherish each bite. Seldom do we get to dine like this."
The cruel irony of her words bit worse than anything.
But Hoover didn't have to wait much longer. The waiters removed the tops, revealing plates full of giant turkeys, mountains of mashed potatoes with butter and gravy, freshly baked bread, soups, and all kinds of foods Hoover hadn't tasted in months. He greedily put a heaping amount of everything into his plate and bowl, taking advantage of the offer. Before he ate, though, he turned to his new roommate, glancing around and thinking about how he might approach this boy.
"H-hi!" Hoover began, forcing an awkward smile. "I'm Hoover, and I guess I'm y-your new roommate..." He rubbed the back of his head, more in reassurance that he wasn't making a fool of himself. Each pound of his heart fueled the adrenaline of fear coursing through his veins.
Please, he begged silently. For the love of god, don't be like her.
"U-um, you should really eat as much as you can and savor each bite..." Hoover's eyes flicked to his left, at the end of the table, where he saw a guard with crystal blue eyes narrow his gaze at Hoover. The boy swallowed. "Like Headmistress said, we don't get to eat like this often..."
Ever, we don't get to eat like this ever! he wanted to say, to warn the fresh meat that had been plopped down in the middle of Hell.
Bookmarks