This is an rp for Tachigami and NekoLen only. Feel free to read, but warning of suggestive themes and blood.

Darkness... It was so solid it suffocated him. He had become used to the pitch black room, but his eyes never seemed to adjust properly between feedings. The door would open slightly and a plate would be pushed across the floor towards him. The brightness from the outside world always blinded him and made him lunge at the door, though having his arms tightly bound made any attack impossible.

He lent against the cool wall, curled up on the lumpy mattress that was his bed. The straitjacket that he wore was tight and made breathing a little difficult. He had asked for them to loosen it, but they never listened to him. He muttered to himself, just to break the silence and to hear a voice... Any voice other than those in his mind.

Why he was locked away and forgotten, Anthony did not understand. He had been mostly good, though his memory had huge blank patches. Had he killed...? He shook again, forcing himself back through the blank patches. His name was Anthony Jenkins, that he remembered. He was twenty-something, and had lived in the hospital for a very long time. No one ever visited, so he assumed he had no family or friends. He could remember liking to ride horses... Perhaps he had lived on a farm at one point...? He growled in frustration, gritting his teeth.

"I am Anthony Jenkins... I am Anthony..." he repeated to himself out loud, rocking backwards and forwards.

He barely made enough to keep his one-bedroom house with this job, but it was better than living in a rundown studio shack of an apartment. And one couldn't become a world-famous author overnight, after all, but he was working on his first serious book. Maybe it'd be his big break... For now he'd have to settle with his labor-intensive janitorial position. Gavin Collier's obsessive desire to clean made him perfect for the position, after all, and being in a mental hospital, it fit his mental state. He was sane, of course, but had a few less-than-healthy habits. One, of course, being the compulsion to clean everything he could, but not fearing the threat of germs or illness. And he was quiet, a loner, and that led others to considering his antisocial behavior to be a hidden disorder.

Gavin stepped out of the custodian closet with a baggy gray overall suit dragging down his thin frame and wheeling a cart. Towels, bottles, and a bucket of cleaning solution and a mop were strapped there. Today he had to clean the rooms in solitary confinement. They tended to have less than perfect cleanliness, terrible attitudes, and would often be latched to a certain area or taken out of the room entirely. Some that were less than dangerous would be left in the room while he worked, offering a bit of conversation, but mostly they talked to themselves or were so heavily medicated they'd spout gibberish and useless strings of nonsense.

He used the elevator to go up a couple floors, to the isolation rooms. The topmost floor was full of windowless, silent rooms, and doors were marked with various color codes. Red was a dangerous room, not to be entered without the doctor present to restrain the patient. Yellow was meant as a warning, and Gavin was best to have an orderly with him when he went inside. Green was safe, as the patients there were quiet or harmless, or at least didn't wish to escape. He went to the end, pulling the ring of keys off his belt and unlocking the door labeled with green.

A noise outside his door made Anthony freeze in place. More food...? But he had just been fed. Who could this be? Anthony tilted his head and watched the man enter his room, the pitch black darkness illuminated by the light from outside. He watched the janitor set up his equipment in interest. He couldn't remember if he had ever met this man, he was sure the last janitor was much older and cruel. He liked to throw the dirty water at Anthony and hit him with the mop.

Anthony moved away from the man slightly, the chains around his ankles clinking slightly across the concrete floor. Muttering still to himself, he crawled on his knees away from his bed and into the corner opposite where the toilet was and where the janitor was standing. He lent against the wall and panted slightly, the movement making him slightly dizzy.

Gavin tilted his head at the young man chained to the bed. It wasn't rare to see a patient in a straitjacket, or chained to the bed, though both was a bit rare. He pushed the clean bucket of water and cleaner into the corner, away from the patient---the card on the outside of the door had his name as Anthony Jenkins printed boldly. He knelt down to wring out the mop, gazing up to where Anthony stood and smiling in what he hoped would be a friendly manner. "I'll only be here for a little while, Anthony. I promise." He stood, placing the mop on the tile floor and getting to work. His need to clean would lead him to wiping down the walls and the bed's frame, the toilet, and changing the bedsheets.

His mop came to a tray that had delivered food earlier, which Gavin picked up and put on the top of the cart. He didn't understand what made the patient fear him... or was it fear? Maybe it was a stony observation tactic, one that was the most effective at a distance.

Anthony's heart leapt at the sound of his name. How did this stranger know it...? Anthony himself barely remembered at times who he was... He's not a doctor... How does he know me...? He tilted his head again and watched the man clean, his heart beating painfully fast. He had to say something, he had to know who this man was, he didn't want him to leave just yet...

"How do you know me?" he asked suddenly, his voice raspy and breathy. He startled himself to silence and he knelt, moving his arms as far as the straitjacket would let him. They felt awfully cramped. He couldn't remember the last time he had been out of the jacket. He couldn't remember what his own hands looked like. He rubbed his head against the wall, the coolness stilling his rushing mind. It helped to just not think, because if he thought too hard into it... He sneezed.

Gavin looked up when the young man spoke. He hadn't expected it, really, not from this one. Still, he continued his work as he went about answering: "It's written on your door. All the patients have their names and medical information on charts outside so the doctors and orderlies know who they're dealing with." He moved across the room, bringing the mop with him to rinse and wring out again. "My name's Gavin, by the way." It was almost instinctive to reach out to someone when he introduced himself, but had to restrain himself because of the straitjacket.

Gavin ignored the rest of the room and focused on the floor. Almost done, then he'd take care of the walls... The walls, as high as he could. The bed... The toilet, his least favorite.

"G-Gavin...?" Anthony spoke the janitor's name out loud, tilting his head as if lost in thought. It had been a long time since he had someone else's name to think about. He smiled widely, but didn't move from where he was. He eyed the mop and the bucket of water, hoping Gavin wasn't the same man that used to torment him. "Are you a patient too?" he questioned, watching the man work carefully. He already knew the answer, of course the man couldn't be a patient. None of the patients were allowed to talk to each other. "You're not a doctor..." Anthony hadn't seen one of those in over two years. It seemed they had just locked him up and forgotten about him.

Gavin shook his head, reaching the mop under the bed. "No, I'm not a... doctor, or a patient." He said with a small chuckle. "I'm just a... a janitor." He sighed the word out---it didn't have much of a shine on it, the word. Though he was meant to clean, to make things shine and show off its real, perfect face, he and others like him were looked down upon by others with higher positions or other jobs in general. No one ever saw the other side of the face that controlled the bottles of cleaning solutions or clean bedsheets. They didn't know---nor did they care---that he was trying to be a writer, and was acceptable, but as always, the artist always detested his work. It was the nature of an artist, be it with words or paint, camera or speech. When one was happy with their work they stopped progressing in their field.

Gavin replaced the mop and pulled out a dry sponge mop, which he used to dry the floor of its remaining water. "You don't have to stay in the corner..." Gavin said at last, moving about to start cleaning the walls. He used a spray bottle of blue liquid to spray the tiles, wiping them down with a series of white cloths.

Anthony made to move from the corner, but hesitated. Could he be entirely sure that this man wasn't about to hurt him? The last janitor had been cruel and the only other person that entered this room... He shuddered to remember that man's visits. "Are you new?" he questioned, his head still tilted, his dirty dark brown hair covering half his face. You can't take his word for it, a clear voice spoke to Anthony. He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad itch.

"I'm certain the last janitor was older..." He closed his eyes, trying to picture him, but found it difficult to remember anything. His mind was a swirling storm of disjointed memories and long patches of nothing. What he could remember didn't ever help in his current situation. He decided that this janitor was different, and he enjoyed talking to him. He didn't want his newly found companion to leave.

Gavin sprayed the second wall, exchanging one rag for another though it wasn't completely dirty yet. It was dirty enough for him and the young man didn't want to go spreading anything from one wall to another---it'd defeat the purpose! But he shook his head at the patient's question. "No, I've been here for a couple years..." He admitted. "I usually clean the rooms on the bottom floors, it's... not often I'm up here. Sometimes the other janitors take care of half the rooms, and I'm left with the rest." He worked his way along the wall, meeting the other side quickly but efficiently. "This is the first time I've been here, actually." He admitted.

Perhaps it was strange---talking to a mental patient as if he were a stranger on the street that decided to pass the time with idle talk. But Gavin found it fascinating. This was somewhat normal, in a way. perhaps because of where he worked in general. It was nice, since he didn't often get to talk to many people.

Anthony moved, crawling across the still damp floor and picking himself up to move closer to Gavin. The chains binding his feet hindering his walk and caused him to halt a few feet away from where the janitor was working. The exercise made him dizzy again and he panted hard, adjusting himself for comfort.

"Ga-vin... I am Anthony, Anthony Jenkins. I used to live on a farm... Do you live on a farm...?" he asked the man, kneeling on the floor and looking up at Gavin.

Gavin glanced toward the young man, a bit surprised that he'd repeated himself until he remembered where he was. He just had to roll with it, ignore some of what he said, as it was repeated, or might sound out of place. "No, I never lived on a farm." Gavin replied with a sigh. "I'd always wanted to, but... I've lived in the city all my life." He grimaced at the boy's hindered movements. The straitjacket looked so... painfully tight. It must constrict his chest and lungs to make it hard to breathe. He shook it away and went onto the third wall. Perhaps he'd be able to loosen the bindings... After cleaning.

"You lived on a farm..." Gavin repeated, imagining it. Wide open spaces, green grass, dotted trees, a large field... It was nice. "Did you have many animals? Any favorites?" Perhaps it was too generic, the questions, but he didn't want to overwhelm Anthony in any way.

"Horses..." he replied, his eyes still closed. He felt the way the powerful body moved beneath his own as he rode the black stallion across the fields. He had been riding ever since he was little, and his horse... It was almost a part of him. But what was its name...? He opened his eyes and watched the janitor wipe down the walls in silence, breathing heavily and struggling slightly against his bonds.

"I used to ride horses," he started again, his memory again rolling in and out of blankness.

“Horses?” Gavin repeated, moving to the last wall. “That’s nice.” He’d always wanted to ride horses, Gavin. None of his family owned a farm, or a horse, or a large plot of land. They had always been working-types, his family, little time for many luxuries, or expensive ones at that. No, it had always been a dream, and little more. “Did you leave the farm?” He asked simply. Things seemed to have reached a silent moment, and thought it might liven things a bit. He stepped around to the cart and put the things away, getting out another bottle and kneeling at the toilet to wipe it clean. Better to get it done fast, anyway.

Anthony went silent, rocking slightly back and forwards. Did he leave the farm...? Well he had to have, seeing he was tied up in this dungeon. But when and why...? He shook his head, longing to itch his filthy hair. He hadn't had a bath in years, he knew that much. "Years ago. I don't live there any more..."

His mind went blank while the janitor scrubbed the toilet, trying to remember why he had left his family and where they had gone to. A painful feeling started in his throat and chest and he felt tears falling from his eyes. Why was he crying...? Was it because it was a painful memory his brain hid from him? He sniffed and blinked the tears away, his eyes still watering and stinging as he crawled towards his bed and sat by it. "Have you ridden a horse before? I used to all the time."

Gavin glanced around as he heard something odd. A sniff... Was Anthony crying? He looked back at his work as he bit his lip. He'd probably done it... One shouldn't ask about the past of a mentally ill patient, especially one like him. He gritted his teeth and cleared his mind to not make that same mistake, and stood as the steel toilet sparkled in its new cleanliness. "I don't. I never have, actually..." Gavin went again to the cart and put everything away. "Anthony... Does that jacket hurt you? I could... loosen it a little, maybe?"

He could tell from here that the young man was probably neglected... He would have to talk to the higher-ups, perhaps threaten them with a lawsuit if they kept this up. The chain around his ankle was just not necessary, Anthony was hardly violent. Maybe he could even convince them to remove the straitjacket entirely, let him have a bath each week... He'd take on the responsibility if needed, this level of neglect was ridiculous...

Anthony's heart leapt at the question. How did the janitor know about the straitjacket...? First his name and then this...? He wondered if the man could read minds... Perhaps he could help him remember his past. He nodded, huffing slightly from all the activity he was doing. Usually he spent his days sitting and thinking, muttering to himself and avoiding the visitors that came into his room. He wasn't used to having a proper conversation with someone, or having that someone care for his well-being. "Too tight..." he muttered, moving his arms about again. He had to keep readjusting them else he would lose the feeling in them.

Gavin growled quietly to himself. Too tight, that was what he thought. He went around Anthony. "Stay calm, okay? I'm just going to... loosen the binds a bit..." His hands went down the line of cloth buckles, loosening the yellowish-in-color series of straps. He didn't loosen them too much, however, in case he would get in trouble for interfering with a patient. But he'd not let this go unpunished... No, no, he certainly wouldn't. In fact, he'd be going at the end of the day to the first person he could---even if he had to change building after building. "I'm sorry they've done this to you..." Gavin muttered. "I'll make sure you're treated right from now on... I'll take it to court if I have to..." He finished the last strap and backed away. "Mind standing now? I have to change the sheets and I'll be gone." He stepped around to unfold the topmost sheet.

Anthony froze in place when the janitor approached him and he flinched when he felt the man touching his back. Flashes of visits from another man hit him hard and he tried to pull away, whimpering like an injured puppy. once Gavin had finished and vowed to him, Anthony calmed and looked back up at the man. Why was he saying these things...? Surely the other patients were treated in the same manner, worse for the more vicious ones that Gavin had just said he normally cleaned. He watched the janitor move towards the end of the bed and didn't move. He didn't want Gavin to leave.

With a new found freedom at the loosening of his jacket, Anthony climbed onto the bed and sat without too much difficulty. It didn't cause him to pant or to be dizzy. "You can't go, you didn't clean the floor," he said with a wide grin.

Gavin shook his head, setting the new linen on the old ones. "Anthony, yes I did. I cleaned the floor first, when I came in. Don't you remember?" Perhaps he didn't---but the grin told him a different story. Maybe he just didn't want to be alone again. He bit his lip. "Look... How about this: I'll come in tomorrow to stay a little longer. If I can, maybe I'll even... take care of you?" It was a long shot. He'd have to be cleared by the board, perhaps have an evaluation. But if Anthony accepted, he'd be able to take care of the young man in a better way---especially if he brought up the concept of restraint and neglect. He had plenty of evidence, after all. "If I can..." Gavin went on. "If I can, I'll be able to see you each day. How about that?" Maybe it'd ease the younger man. Maybe it'd make his sentencing here easier...

"Take... care...?" Anthony tilted his head at this idea. No one cared for him or had for a long time. The only other visitors he got abused him more and never showed any care... "You promise you will come back...? I'll remember your name... Ga-vin...." He wasn't sure to trust the man or not, maybe he was just talking and not really paying attention to his promises he was making, maybe he was even trying to lure Anthony into trusting him, only so he could do things to him and hurt him more.

"But the floor is still dirty," he said again, staring down at the wet floor and seeing nothing in the murky darkness. "Are you sure you clean it all...?"

Gavin nodded. "I promise I'll come back. You don't have anything to worry about. I'll make them be good to you from now on, and I'll be back." He rearranged things on his cart and put his hands behind his back. Most of the time he'd put them in his pockets, but his pockets were hidden under ugly brown-gray overalls with his name stitched to the left breast. He smiled a bit. "The floor's perfectly clean. But if you want, I'll clean it again when I come back tomorrow. How about that?" Perhaps Anthony was a little like him---seeing dirt where others didn't, finding little clean enough at any given time. But perhaps it was just his twisted view of the world, a form of hallucination that made the floor seem dirty when Gavin could almost see himself in it. He did a good job every time he could, and would run late if it meant making something shine as well as it possibly could.

He wheeled the cart toward the door and opened it. "I'll be off now, Anthony. I promise I'll come back tomorrow, you can trust me." He gave the young patient a warm smile, and stepped out of the room, closing and locking the door as it was. Then he left his cart there, and raced down the hall. He'd make a call, ten calls if he had to, run through the city if necessary.

Anthony almost cried in despair when his newly found friend left the room, leaving him in pitch black darkness and suffocating silence once more. He screamed out, running at the door. How could the janitor just leave like that? What was his name again...? Why... Anthony went silent, sitting near the door and wondering why the floor was so wet. He was sure something had just happened but he couldn't...

"Ga-vin..." he said, not sure where the name had come from. "My friend...."

It was a flurry of motion. He recalled little of what he actually did, what he actually said, but Gavin had burst into a meeting to pull the nearest man or woman he could aside. His words were faint, but they rang in his mind: "... Ridiculous! I can't stand by and let this happen... filthy conditions, even with weekly cleaning, I'm appalled at---doesn't change, I'll make it change! I'll take you to the highest-ranking court I can find... needs attention. He's human! And I'm pretty sure you neglect a lot of other patients too... Don't care if I lose my damn job, it'll be even stronger a defense when I file a lawsuit against all of you---!"

His head was spinning as he stood in the office. He didn't know where he was, but could be sure it was serious. A man entered, an older one, with white, sparse hair. "I hear you're rather adamant that there are serious cases of neglect going on in our hospital." He said, closing the door behind him. Gavin nodded once, sending his hair into his eyes.

"Yes. And I can't sit back and watch it."

"Okay then, let's speak on an equal level here." The man---his name escaped Gavin but he was sure he'd been told---went around to a desk that sat in a corner. " What is it you saw?"

Gavin didn't need to explain much. Evidently the man didn't know anything so terrible was happening. He nodded along, looked shocked, wrinkled his nose a few times, and had a general look of disgust as Gavin fell quiet. "I see." He muttered. "I tell you right now, Mr. Collier, things will be changing. I can guarantee."

"I'm not content with that." Gavin muttered. "One of those patients... He... He's restrained with a straitjacket and a cuff on his leg. He can barely breathe because the jacket's so tight. He's kept in utter darkness, he's neglected and isolated in too harsh a way---he's not violent at all." He shook his head. "I... I want to be his caretaker."

The older man lifted a heavy brow. "Oh? And what would this entail?"

Gavin went off again, describing his idea, supporting it by noting that it might help him ease out of his delusions, and after everything he'd been through, deserved it." The man seemed to appreciate the reasoning.

"Okay, Gavin. We do have a good amount of work to do today, then." He went around the desk and to one of the black bookshelves. "I have to find the right paperwork, do a more in-depth background search on you, and I'll have to make sure you're actually qualified for the position." Gavin fidgeted as attention was turned off him, trying to hide the accomplished smile on his face.

The old man asked Gavin to return in a few more hours, after the meeting had finished with the board and head doctors. He had indeed picked the right place to burst into. If he hadn't, the director wouldn't have even known how bad of a condition some of the patients were in.

When Gavin was summoned to the office, Mr Yei had a pile of paperwork for the janitor to read through and sign. He had also already talked to one of his friends down at the police station, and found out that Gavin had no criminal record at all. "This means a lot to you?" he questioned, before passing him the patient's medical files. "We will have him moved to a better room tomorrow morning. It would make him too disorientated to do it tonight." He smiled as Gavin read through the files and signed the papers.