((Could you do an insane drabble and a traumatic one? Ortwoversionsoftheinsaneone?))

Traumatic: I’ll write my or your characters going through a traumatic experience.

Insane: I’ll write my character is insane inside asylum and yours is the doctor, vice versa

Matthew nodded at the nurse behind the desk, fidgeting uncomfortably. He could do this. He could do this.

The guard led him down a long hallway and around a corner. “You get twenty minutes. Any longer and she starts to get agitated. We had to sedate her the last time before she could hurt herself.”

Matthew nodded again. He murmured out a quiet, “thank you,” as the guard unlocked the door and ushered him inside. He watched silently as the door then shut behind him, the lock re-bolting with a thunk. He turned slowly, taking in the white padded room with a grim expression.

“Mary… Mary, Mary, quite contrary how does your… How does your garden g-grow?”

The soft, broken singing drew his attention to the single cot in the corner of the room. He approached slowly so as not to startle the equally broken girl sitting in a fetal position upon it. Her arms were pulled up tight against her chest, even though the sleeves of her straight jacket were unbuckled. She stared straight ahead, rocking slowly.

"W…with silver bells and cockle shells and pr… pretty… p-pretty maids… pretty maids all in a r-row…

Matthew reached the edge of the cot, still unnoticed, and sat down beside her, resting a hand gently on her knee. “Hella?”

The girl stopped rocking and finally looked at him, though her eyes were only barely focused. He wondered if she really could see him or if she even remembered who he was. “Hella, it’s me, Matthew. H-How have you been?”

She blinked but said nothing.


The girl stared at him for a long moment. At first, Matthew didn’t think she was going to answer but then the girl’s scarred face twisted into an expression of childlike agony. A low whining sound slipped from her throat as she scrunched her eyes shut and let her head fall back in misery.

"Noooooo no no nooooo," she sobbed, bringing her covered hands up to her face and wiping them downward. She pawed at the scars on her face and Matthew had to reach up to grab her wrists to stop her.

"Hella, shh! It’s okay!" he soothed.

But she didn’t listen. “No no no no, whyyyyy? Why why why why why?! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - I didn’t MEAN to, no…”

The dhampir held both of her wrists in his hand while reaching out with his other to brush a faded, once-green lock of hair from her face. At the contact, the girl sobbed harder, voice slowly becoming hysterical.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…"

"No, Hella, no! I know you didn’t mean to, it’s okay!” Matthew tried his hardest to keep his voice soft and calm but the girl’s distress was leaving him at a loss as to what he should do. He wanted to pull her into a hug but wasn’t sure if that would set her off even more. Instead he tried putting a hand to her face to get her to look at him. “Hella, I know you didn’t mean do it, it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you. It was Yukiko…”

The mention of that name caused the girl to fly into even further hysterics as she tugged violently against his hold. "NO! Noooooo…”

He bit his tongue. “Hella, please… I couldn’t… It wasn’t you. It wasn’t your fault Eni died!”

And whatever else he had wanted to say was immediately smothered by the weight of renewed grief. Flashes of memory danced behind his eyes and he had to struggle to draw in a breath.

Enigma with her face torn open…

eyes white with Yukiko’s transferred curse…

her look of self-horror at what she’d become…

wrists bleeding in the bathtub from where she’d silenced Yukiko with her own scissors…

He blinked back a wave of sorrow. Now was not the time. He had to try and help Hella, if he even still could.

She had stopped struggling, obviously coming to realize he wasn’t letting go. Her voice cracked and wavered as she whispered over and over, “I didn’t mean to…”

He swallowed thickly. He had to say it or the entire visit would have been for nothing. “Hella… Hella I forgive you.”

Only after the words had left his mouth did he realize what a mistake it had been.

With a horse shriek of anguish the girl tore herself out of his grasp and started clawing at her own face. She was speaking, screaming something that he couldn’t understand, and leaving red welts on her cheeks even through the sleeves of the straight jacket.

The door burst open and two orderlies and a nurse came rushing into the room. Matthew found himself being ushered back out into the hallway as they held the girl down and began strapping her to the bed. He watched as they turned her head, pressing the needle of a sedative into the girl’s neck while she begged and pleaded with the hospital staff.

"NO! Just let me die, please JUST LET ME DIEEE!!!!"

The last thing he saw before they closed the door in his face was the mindless shell of what used to be Helena Maenk, slowly going limp in her cell.