"you got anything else?"\n\n"tutelage at four." brooke is quite posh, actually. because of her retrograde amnesia, she doesn't really have the chance to get influenced by how the rest of you speak. she has her own way of saying things; always has. a little upper-class; what's that word - genteel. \n\n"Yeah, me too. and it's group tomorrow. sit with me at lunch, yeah?"\n\nshe smiles ruefully. "i'm not going to sit with anyone else." she can't. she doesn't know anyone else.\n\n"yeah."\n\nyou've stuck together for a long time, the two of you, but it's awkward. there was a year-long period of seperation when you were twelve and went up to kohlberg and she wasn't old enough yet, but when she came here earlier last year, they put her straight in a double room with you. but after a year of barely seeing each other? you've grown up a little, and she seems to have drawn in a little. it's been a few months since you reunited. she doesn't seem as happy. and while parts of you are glad she's finally waking up and smelling the soiled bedsheets; other parts want to indulge her in her childhood as long as you possibly can. brooke lends herself easily to mothering.\n\nbut the day's starting and you'd rather not be alone with your thoughts any longer. [[schoolwork beckons.]]

damian is skeleton-thin, dark hair, dark clothing and dark shadows under bright, furtive eyes. that's when you first meet him. he still has trouble meeting your gaze, but he looks less deathly now that they've got him eating at a normal r\n\nthe spider is getting bigger as it crawls from his shoulder onto his face and you can't ignore it any more you can't you can't \n\n"there's nothing there," you say, angrily, "there's nothing" but why can't he see why isn't he scared damian hates bugs he hates anything creepy crawly and the tarantula must be as big as a dog its legs are draped over his cheekbones and one slipped into his mouth you are going to scream you are going [[to sc]]

you've got a bone to pick with dr. winter. two bones - you always have to communicate brooke's problems to her as well because brooke is cripplingly pathetic and hates to complain. you sit awake on sheets grey and clean and somehow still alien to you, after all these years. it's six am.\n\nyou exhale and prepare to call out to brooke, but notice her gentle sleepy breathing has ceased being audible. she's awake (presumably; that or passed away in the night). you neutrally call out "you awake?" to confirm this and hear the little yawn of a little person and then a tired "mm-hmmm".\n\nbrooke is not a morning lark. you are. you're a night owl too, though - you function all hours, really. sleeping and waking have never seemed like such seperate states to you.\nyou haven't got any therapy today, which is pretty good. there's lessons, although you only have to study five subjects at gcse. they cut back on the other teachers even before you got here - and you got here a long old time ago - and they now only offer a basic tutorial course. you guess they figure there's no point. there's no point in providing opportunities for you all. you will never exactly be great. you will probably never leave libel.\n\nyou're not important.\n\n[[.]]

[[it was already]]

[[YOU'RE SO FRIGHTENED!]]

want to look closer\n\neach individual pixel, already wiggling and flashing on the inside of your eyelids, starts crawling off the screen, all bright electric pinks, yellows and blues, little squareish monsters making high-pitched beeping noises which seep into the keyboard of your laptop never to be seen again, like a neglected ice cream cone. lime green pixel slime bubbles up out between the h and j keys, and the hyperlink for youtube has disintegrated into a strawberries-and-cream mess. you press your face against the screen. you want to taste it and put your eye on it, touch it, become part of the colours and feelings. damian's hand stays you\n\n"stop doing that, you'll get a headache"\n\nyou touch his collarbone and sigh and you think you are going to pass out again\n\n[[END ANDREAS]]

[[you're not.]]

what's your name?\n\n[[anna]]\nbrooke\ntrip\ncollin\nnathaniel\n[[changchang]]\n[[andreas]]\ndamian\nkamalia\n[[robert]]

[[up.]]

[[can you hear me]]

"don't worry!" he says, bleakly cheerful. "honestly! why don't you - why don't you just f-fuck on the lunch tables where everyone can see you? it's your choice! do whatever you like! i don't have a say in what you two get up to!"\n\nand that's the sentence that bites with accusation. \n\nyou don't know how to respond.\n\n[[(END ANNA)]]

you go back to sleep.\n\ndreams don't come easily to you, but this one does. you see your mother. you remember her well. her name was marijona butkutė (well, before she changed it). she came from lithuania one summer, met your father, and stayed forever. \n\nshe loved odd words. that's how you got your second names. and she always, always wore yellow.\n\nin your dream she walks with you by a beach in a place you don't recall knowing. \n\nyou don't talk, but you enjoy each other's company, and when strange shadows of creeping tendrils begin to appear darkly beneath the lapping waves next to you, she grips you tight, and you know that she will save you from the sea, from the creatures that hide in waiting. she will always save you, because she is your mother.\n\nyou turn around to tell her your knowing, and it's too late - she has already sunk beneath the waves.\n\nyou wake.\n\n[[what will you do?]]

it's easy by now.\n\n[[(END ANNA)]]

[[even though]]

[[you are suddenly, remarkably lucid]]

[[go to the roof]]\n[[visit trip/collin]]\n[[visit rowan]]\n[[wake brooke]]\n[[sleep]]

you're a very clever little girl, aren't you.\n\nthe component known as the episodic buffer, which deals with long-term memories, is what we want to look at while you're here.\n\ntherapy at libel doesn't have to be difficult unless you make it difficult.\n\nwill you be good?\n\n[[...]]

kohlberg is the smallest ward, but you couldn't call it close. you think you're all too different really. brooke you know, however - brooke you've always known. when you first moved in with her, she was so scared and she just cried all the time.\n\ndr. winter is like a serrated chainsaw when it comes to therapy, everyone knows that. she will dig into you and extract your problems by force, as if somehow she didn't see how so much more damage had been done in the process. and yet, when it came to brooke, dr. winter had practically adopted her. she dried the little girl's tears and spoke calmly and warmly, brought her everything she needed.\n\nwell, good for brooke, you guess. she's too much of a wilting lily to cope with the dr. winter the rest of you know; it would have destroyed her poor little mind just like rowan. but it's kind of annoying that every time she meets dr. winter again, she comes under this delusion that her guardian angel is actually a kind person.\n\n"morning.... anna." brooke, who has come to just about recognise you by now, enters from her half of the room, looking the picture of childhood innocence in her patterned jammies and clutching a toy rabbit. she's not actually as little as she looks, but she's very small for thirteen, and thin all over. her hair is long, light and always pinned neatly back with two strands flopping at the front down to her breast. her eyes are big and watery blue, and her default facial expression is always a little sad, a little scared.\n\n"morning. have you got anything today? let me see your timetable."\n\n"it's ok, i remember." those words are always accompanied by a brief, pleased little smile. "i have morning therapy with, er..."\n\n"dr. winter. it's always dr. winter."\n\n"yeah. sorry." she looks distraught now and you feel bad. it takes so little to knock that kid's confidence, honestly, stepping around her is just tiring when you're already holding off on a great deal of sarcastic jabs which you ache to launch at someone by the end of the day. you just get a little tired of reintroducing everyone and everything [[sometimes.]]\n

you sit on his bed and take in their room. between the two of them, with their opposing interests, the room has a sort of chaotic neutrality - trip's car pinup posters versus collin's periodic table averages out to what anyone might consider an normal teenage boy.\n\nhe regards you, steadily, almost too calmly.\n\n"i know - there's no point in saying it," you begin, tripping over your words. "but i'm sorry. god, i'm - i'm really fucking sorry."\n\n"you don't have anything to apologise for. i was the one who made things awkward."\n\n"don't fucking do that, collin! you always make yourself into a martyr and it's passive aggressive as hell and it pisses me off. just yell at me. do whatever the fuck you need to do to make this better."\n\n"i don't need to do anything. it's okay." and yet it plainly, plainly is not.\n\n"we really fucked up. and trip is accountable, of course he is, but i am too. don't fucking - let me off like that. you make me feel like shit. [[i don't deserve you]]."

pinning you down, hurting you, knife to your throat, trying to kill you, trying to\n\nyou lash out\n\n[[not dying today, mister!]]

[[down.]]

damian.\n\nyou grope for his hand, finding it. you still fear to open your eyes. he hasn't moved but his body has shifted away and you know he is shying away \n\ndid you hurt him\n\ndid you hurt him?\n\nyou're going to pass out again\n\n[[END ANDREAS]]

[[we all care about you]]

ssssssatan crawled inside you rb ody and is hi[[din]]g

that's better\n\nit's not very hard, is it?\n\nit looks like your dad is leaving now\n\n[[bye, dad]]

easy\n\n[[END ANDREAS]]

well don't worry.\n\nyou can learn a lot of things while you're here - just like school.\n\nthe working memory model describes memory as several different sections in your brain.\n\nbut don't worry about that\n\nthe only part you need to concern yourself with is the episodic buffer, which deals with long term memories.\n\nthere's something wrong with your episodic buffer, but don't worry\n\nwe're here to help.\n\n[[...]]

you have completed andreas's story\n\nreturn to "[[you are suddenly, remarkably lucid]]" (choose another action)\nreturn to "[[we all care about you]]" (character select)

[[okay]]

what will you do?\n\n[[watch a dvd]]\n[[have sex]]\n[[pass the fuck out]]

"i can't believe you're here," you snap, even though you were going to be cool, and not say anything.\n\n"it's my place too." trip replies. he's so different to collin, although they share the same twinkly teal eyes and sand-brown hair. collin would never smirk like this at you.\n\n"no it's not, it's MINE." you're premenstrual and stressed and you don't want to see his face right now.\n\n"hey." he pauses, then shuffles over to you without standing up, and sits weirdly close. "hey."\n\n"go away."\n\n"annaaaaa," he whines, and not-so-subtly puts a hand on your side, trailing around to the front of your chest.\n\n"hey! get off!" you slap his hand.\n\nhe looks surprised. as if he expected another outcome. he takes the hand off, but then leans in even closer, his mouth practically on your face.\n\nhe mutters into your ear. "look, we're both pissed off and i just wanna get off and i bet you do too, so can't we have angry sex and be done with it?"\n\n"you make me sick." but you don't move away.\n\n"anna. please."\n\n"trip, no."\n\nhe guides your hand. "down here. please. [[come on.]]"\n

LIBEL

dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dea[[d]] dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead dead

you don't say this because you are seven.\n\n[[yes]]\n[[no]]\n[[i don't care.]]

[[...]]

there's another little girl here\n\nher name is brooke.\n\ni wonder if you will be friends with her?\n\nshe's also here because of her memory.\n\nbut brooke can't create new memories.\n\nshe doesn't recognise people, so things are often confusing and frightening for her\n\ni thought perhaps you would like to share a room with her.\n\n[[okay]]\n[[i want my own room]]

don't be scared.\n\nwalk with me.\n\nit's just along [[this corridor]]

[[important.]]

[[we all care about you]]

blood is rushing into your ears are you falling? are you? are you drowning in your own blo[[od]]

"no," he replies, with sincerity, "i don't deserve you."\n\nthe worst part is that you know he genuinely feels that way.\n\n"i had got the impression from trip that-"\n\nyou stop yourself. it's hard to say. "-well it's not something either of you ever really talks about, but - i had reason to believe that it wouldn't be ok. i - i knew i shouldn't, but i just-" you hate yourself for saying 'but'. you hate that you are still trying to justify your actions even as you try to bare your soul in apology. \n\n"honestly, anna. it's fine. it really is. i just hope i didn't make it awkward for you guys, you seemed like you were having - fun."\n\nyou have to bite down on your lip not to laugh at that. you want to cry.\n\n"it won't happen again, collin. i know i can't take back what happened, but i can promise that much."\n\n[[he waves his hands.]]

"Σατανάς ανιχνεύσει μέσα"\n\ndamian is looking at you.\n\n"you ok?"\n\nhe's a south london boy with little eyes like beetles but you think he's handsome an[[yway]]

you have completed anna's story\n\nreturn to "[[what will you do?]]" (choose another action)\nreturn to "[[we all care about you]]" (character select)

you don't visit rowan. nobody visits rowan\n\n[[what will you do?]]

[[i wonder if you could indicate to me that you can hear me]]

the two of you rock like a ship in a storm, hot, sticky, gasping. if you could see you don't know it. your eyes are blind with [[pleasure\n]]\n

[[and you go numb again.]]

the roof of kohlberg building is hardly a storybook one for daydreaming against the twinkly moon. for starters, there's no moon most nights. this is london, and the night sky is dirty smog. and then the roof itself - flat rather than tiled, ugly and grey and concrete, usually with unsanitary puddles of polluted rain sitting wetly in corners and dips, and a fat ugly pipe that sometimes belches out smoke from the kitchen, depending on the time of day. \n\nbut it's yours. it belongs to you. this whole space, eight paces by seventeen. nobody else would even bother to put a claim to it because who wants a roof to their name? and so it's yours, and you guess it's a little like home by now.\n\n[[your stomach is full of turmoil.]]

you're crying and someone is coughing. did you pass out? you think you might have passed out\n\nyou are frightened to open your eyes because demons are going to be there, and they will know you're alive when you open your eyes and th[[at's when they]]

don't be difficult.\n\nwe dislike children who are difficult\n\nand you'll only make it harder to fit in.\n\nyou're no more important than anyone else, anna.\n\nthere's lots of sick little girls and boys.\n\n[[you're not important.]]

[[you're so very frightened]]

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[[fear]]

[[hello?]]

it's six am, but what the fuck. they're your friends, they won't mind. and if he's there, trip will be awake anyway.\n\nyou don't want to talk to either of them, not in the least, but - you have to, at some point. especially collin. you have to know how badly your actions have hurt him.\n\nyour rooms get locked until the morning lights switch on, but you know a certain way of wiggling the doorknob. if only it worked on the ward door. or on dr. winter's impenetrable office, for that matter.\n\nwhen you knock, it's collin who greets you, and all at once you don't know what to say.\n\n[[his smile falters.]]

its foot didn't stop twitching\n[[up]]

you resolve yourself. "i won't do this to collin again, you dick. we never should have done it to him once."\n\n"we're not 'doing' anything to him. the stupid prick isn't here. you act like we gang-raped him."\n\n"don't even joke about that!" you look pained. "oh my god, go away. we shouldn't have started any of this."\n\n"what, cause we're young? yeah, so let's have fun."\n\n"stupid idea of fun!" your pitch is rising. "i'm not exactly enjoying myself!" he still has hold of your fingers. you rip them away.\n\nhe swallows and looks troubled. "you aren't?"\n\n"did you seriously not get that?"\n\n"but sex is fun. we had fun, didn't we?" he carries on talking before you can reply, as if he doesnt want to hear the answer. "i don't want to... make you do anything you don't want to. i want you to be ok with it."\n\n"well i'm not. end of. you didn't care when it was collin."\n\n"collin doesn't count! nobody did anything bad to collin! nobody made him do anything he didn't - want to do."\n\nyou scoot a little further away, readjusting yourself, now sitting as a friend. "don't cry," you say more gently.\n\n"don't be a dumb fuck!" he doesn't look at you.\n\n"what's the matter?" [[you think you know what the matter is.]]

and as the years tick by, you detach yourself from any other emotion.\n\n[[seven years pass.]]

your third floor room has never really felt like home, but oddly, this process does - as the rich midnight blue sky begins to take on the peachy character of morning, and light snores come from brooke's sweet golden head and you, second nature, you draw open the window softly and take that step onto that ledge, and sometimes there's a silly thought of jumping but you're not here for those reasons. \n\ninstead you turn around, right foot on the red brick and left on the higher yellow one, easy as children's games, and reach for the gutter, take a breath and pull yourself up. you must have great biceps by now. you flip onto the roof with an ungainly roll, and [[you're there.]]

this corridor smells faintly of cigarettes. the carpet is an ugly shade of brown and you notice everything, every locked door with a question behind it. everything is as it should be, and yet you are sick and scared, with a dark and unknowable terror looming over your subconscious like a predator that cannot be outrun. \n\nyou are seven. you are small. you know that your name is anna and that you aren't going to see your dad again.\n\nyou don't know any more than that.\n\nwhen you meet brooke, she's like a tinier, mirror image of dr. winter. with their long, flat blonde hair and pallid skin, are they robots? but there are differences. while dr. winter smiles pinkly, brooke quavers. where dr. winter is confident, brooke is afraid.\n\nshe's afraid of everything. like a field mouse or a shrew, whose nature is coded towards a general status of mistrust and raring adrenaline, so too does this mousey little creature seem to cower in the presence of anything and anyone. she's a mere year younger than you, six, and perfectly mature. but she's shades less of a person than you are. \n\nbrooke has no memories. her room, like her head, is blank, reflecting this. she is an open book, you begin to see. every vulnerable layer of her psyche, rather than being wrapped, like yours is, into the confident and private folds of her brain, are instead laid bare on a surface that is flat and unmarred. she does not know. she cannot know. she can have nothing for herself, because it is taken away from her within seconds and moved to a place where it never existed.\n\n[[you try to be her friend.]]

you can't have your own room\n\nthere are lots of children here, and you're no more important than any of them\n\n[[you're not important]]

[[down]]

"god," he's holding your shoulders, and you feel a rushing in your head like a rocket going off and yo u can't remember if you took the right pill today or if you spat it out why would you spit it out why would you do that \n\n"it's okay," he is holding you, he is cold, but real. "it's okay"\n\nit is. it is ok[[ay]]

he's driving away\n\nhe's not looking back\n\ndon't worry, though!\n\nhe will come back and see you.\n\nnext weekend. any weekend. any time he can\n\n[[he cares about you]]

the film is about gangsters\n\ndamian's head leans onto your shoulder. normally he doesn't like to touch you so much. [[it's nice]]

and he doesn't say anything. you would really prefer not to be the one to initiate your conversation, but the silent treatment is the least of what you deserve, you guess.\n\n"can i come in?"\n\nit's important to ask for consent.\n\nhe thinks about it, as is his right.\n\n"yeah. yeah, [[please do]]."

everything HURTS\nit's too loud.\nyou don't hear what she's saying\nyou don't know\nyou are afraid.\n\n[[we all care about you]]

anna, do you remember me?\n\nmy name is dr. winter\n\nwe spoke on the phone and in my office a few weeks ago.\n\nyou're going to stay here for a little while\n\nuntil we can find the root of this little problem with your memories.\n\nhave you ever heard of the working memory model?\n\n[[yes]]\n[[no]]\n[[i don't care.]]\n[[FUCK YOU!! FUCK YOU!! FUCK YOU!! WHERE IS MY DAD]]

you haven't been up to the roof since when IT happened, apart from once, when you immediately remembered what happened, felt sick, and went straight down again. \n\nthis morning, you need to get away, though. kamalia can't follow you up here. trying to twist your arm, make you make decisions. why do you have to be the leader? you don't even really believe in this stupid little movement, this rebellion of hers. it's all hers, and always has been.\n\nyou lie on your back and the sun has risen. it's a dry, unusually warm morning in february, and you can try to relax and stare up at the emerging clouds, white but with a shadow of grey. you frown.\n\nwhen you were little, you think, you used to believe there was some sort of life up there. a city in the clouds. stupid, really. were you ever so stupid? you never fantasized about anything since you came here, but when you were young, and in the car with your mother and father, you'd just stare and stare out of the window, and think that maybe when you grew up you'd invent a way to travel to the cloud city and live there. the people, you'd thought, would probably be nicer.\n\nit's embarrassing to think about. but you do still look.\n\nyou hear a scuffling and a swearword and scowl fiercely, twisting up your head to look at him, his mouse-brown head and one elbow emerging most undignified into [[your sanctum.]]

axx

you have often read about insomnia, and the glut of referential material your mind now supplies assures you that if you simply examine the ceiling, you could occupy yourself with imagined shapes and stories made up only of whorls in paint until sleep crept up on you. in practise, though, this proves difficult. the whitewash above your bed has no tales to tell; no link between a crack in paint and a cobweb seems to inspire any diverting narratives in your mind. maybe you simply haven't the imagination any more. crossly, you turn over, peering at your companion across the room in the faint light.\n\nbrooke appears cocooned inside her woolen sheets and blankets, the little girl shivering in her sleep. though you feel the cold, you yourself don't mind it; you are warmblooded by nature, unlike your timorous roommate. the outline of brooke's pale, skinny limbs can be traced in the bundle she's made of herself; she sometimes seems skeletal, but only in the way that young girls do before puberty has rounded them out. \n\nthat said, brooke would lend herself well to sickliness - so little, wan and weak-willed, she is a typical tiny tim, and if you had ever felt any stirring that could be called a maternal instinct, it would be towards this young girl. brooke's long blonde hair pools out in a halo on her pillow, pin-straight; the only one of your sixteen acquaintances who boasts such aryan delicacy aside from brooke's uncanny doppelganger in dr. winter, who, like her namesake, still remains year after year.\n\nit will be morning soon.\n[[what will you do?]]\n\n

[[the rabbit didn't stop moving]]

"nothing's the fucking.... could you go away?"\n\n"this is MY roof!" you squawk, ridiculously.\n\n"i feel fucking ill. could you just go away?"\n\nyou do, also feeling sick curling up in your stomach.\n\neverything's just getting worse and worse.\n\n[[(END ANNA)]]