her patience and understanding. her virtue of love that fuses and discombobulates the togetherness of a forbidden force of nature and reality she yearns. two bodies, one soul ridden with dire consequences of togetherness; but still they seek to make...
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"Imma see you in the mornin— take a deep breath my love. Breathe— Matheus breathe, relax, catch ya' breath and use your words and talk to me pretty girl, I can't understand you when you crying and screaming at me... what's the matter Love bug?"
Bone chilling what the harshness of the steel doors slamming shit behind the tensing stature of the conversing man. Curious and concerned, a father of a sensitive baby girl. Maurices tone flow slowly and sweetly into the vacancy of the atmosphere, filling it with an energy so soothing, he merely became calm within the intensity of its pressure. It's gambols within the quietude of the atmosphere, dancing timidly beneath the harsh separation of he from the means of Queens and its people, a separation that curates his existence as one with the people of Creedmor and brings a shaky intimacy to his grinding joints as the resonance of his leave from society and its overbearing norms casually echoes down the emptiness of the large halls he perambulated with an administrative purpose. His gait was slow, lackluster and telling of the kind of schedule he was on, as though he'd had all the time in the world the way his soles press heavily into the linoleum. Lackluster and so quiet, not a soul would've known of his presence had the doors of the ward not been so damningly loud. The obnoxious din of the thick steels doors clashing blared hellishly from behind his sauntering stature, and the unpleasant reverberation followed by a hasty clicking and beeping that indicates informatively that someone had entered the interior premises of the Creedmor Psychiatric facility.
"Aww baby stop it..." Emotions were high, transferring through the phone and plaguing the complacence of the fatherly new comer, "KK just keeping you for the night and I'll be there to wake you up in the morning. The same thing we always do princess. Then when I come get you in the morning, it's me and you, understand? We gon' spend the weekend together, daddy don't work for the next three days so it's me and you and we can come to daddy's job and see mommy 'fore you start school on Monday? Mommy miss you like crazy baby girl..."
Creedmor's pale white vestibules were vacant, the halls possessing no uplifting personality as he causally stroll further and further down them, body succumbing further to the energy of the lifeless facility and almost becoming identical to the many residents that looked and felt shackled, zombified, and demoralized. He'd felt the same at one point in his life, the demoralized emotions they gave off he obtained and still proceed to feel as he still hadn't wrapped his head around the fact that he had very little to feel that way about, if it wasn't demoralization he felt, it was the cons of stress and working in a place that brought danger and pain to a woman he hadn't the proper healing to stop thinking about. His heartbeat increased once he thought of her, his chest tight, body tense, and almost wracking with consternation though he truthfully over the moon to see her, being able to hear the beating of the organ in his chest above the serenity in the halls that seemed to become filled with the reminder of the kind of woman he loved. The kind of dark, barbaric, and violent woman that was deep down inside her loving and sweet exterior, a woman he knew nothing of. Maurice swallows down hard at the memory, it only having taken place just this very morning and resting heavily on his mind throughout the day he'd spent reveling in the satisfactory company of his babygirl. He was scared to see the kind of damage she'd taken, fearful to interact with her now knowing the kinds of things she was capable of doing, the kind of damage she had the potential to cause with her bare hands and enough provocation. It was intimidating— the peace and tranquility that rioted the atmosphere as he makes his way towards the nurses desk, hand colliding indicatively against the oak to nonverbally greet his coworkers before heading to the back where he frees himself of the puffer jacket that clads his existence. It was dead as it usually was at nine pm. Residents were sent to bed at eight-thirty and most of them were so exhausted they usually fell asleep once their heads hit the mediocrity of the poorly crafted cushioning. He'd only imagined the kind of sleep they were getting in a place like this, their lack thereof— and the kind of slumber they'd probably kill for had they known the kind of luxe Florence was living in when it came to the full size mattress and duck feather duvets she curled up in each and every night.
