Rubber Bands and Chicken Wire (Cecil)

Her last group therapy (or lack thereof) had shaken her. Maggie seemed to be getting more flustered as time went on. Like a set of wind charms on the porch during a storm she was whipping around, spiralling out of control, and getting more and more tangled as time went on.

That morning she spent a regular age in front of her mirror. She was sure that somehow her bruises had flared up again. At a certain angle she could see them, dark shadows lurking under the blue-grey of her eyes. Hiding under her eyelashes until she was off guard, surely. She seemed to dot on her concealer over and over again. Every time she thought she had them they seemed to wink at her as a slight yellow-purple tone just below the skin. Then there was her skin, going berserk from the stress apparently. She was practiced in examining her skin. She traced her fingers along the skin of her cheeks and chin and forehead just ever so lightly and she could feel them. The suggestion of pimples lurking beneath the skin, just waiting and biding their time before coming to the surface. Rearing their ugly heads. There was one already present though, that was the worst. Thankfully it was on the brink of her hairline on her forehead. The dark brunetter shade of her hair doing half her cover up work for her. A blessing inside a giant pile of shit that was her life.

To make matters worse, that morning she was giving that same wake-up call again. Faith crowing a "buckbuckbuck" of a chicken in her ear. A week before Maggie had found that note on her pillow. 'Dare you to grab a chicken from outside and sneak it into girls dorm five or one of the boys dorms.
Or are you too chicken?' When Maggie first read it she assumed it was just a joke. An inside joke in fact. That had excited her. Maggie had never had one of those outside of the family. The idea that she had a set of friends good enough to share inside jokes with her was a warm one. Maggie liked that feeling. She was surprised when Faith asked her what the hold up was. They'd gone to sleep late that night after the game of truth or dare, Maggie had assumed that meant the game was over. Collapsing into slumber seemed like a decisive end to her. So she went about her day. Ignored it all. The game was over, but Faith said it wasn't.

It had been a week of this. The Clucking and Bucking in Maggie's ear every-time she saw the blonde scar-faced room-mate. Maggie still felt a great deal of fear rise up in her whenever she saw Faith's horrible scar. She still didn't understand how she could just walk around like that. Maggie was still quite convinced that she was entirely insane, unstable and quite capable of finding her share of knives. All of this made the teasing so much more distressing. In the beginning of the week Maggie had been giggling at it. She joked about working out a plan, that she'd do it soon, before Faith knew it even. But as time went on Maggie stopped laughing about it. Slowly but surely the taunting grated on her. Every time Faith opened her mouth around the brunette she flinched. Feeling the eyes of the bystanders turning to look at her, eyebrows raised, wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Maggie could feel the chicken noises crawling on her skin like an army of caterpillars.

So that morning, after two hours in front of the mirror fussing and deliberating and perfecting. Maggie pulled on her skinny jeans (a rare sight), L.L. Bean boots (rarer still) and her dark teal puffy vest over her black turtleneck. The kind of clothes she only wore when she was headed for the stable for her miserable, dirty chores. The farm area of home was exactly where she was headed, on a mission it seemed. With a towel from the showers and a hankie in hand. She needed to shut Faith up, obviously, people were starting to stare. But could she do it? Could she steal a chicken?

Coming to the chicken pen, Maggie covered her hand in the hankie and used it to help her jump the fence. She landed neatly inside but wrinkled her nose in disgust as she saw the mess that was already forming on her cute, clean boots. She paused and tried to shake the worst on it off. Eventually she looked back up at her foe. The chickens. Dirty, pecking, pooping things. And Maggie was supposed to pick one up, carry it all the way back. She took a deep breath and started towards one of the birds. It was so tame it didn't even run but as Maggie neared it was her feet that veered off path. She gave the bird a wide bearth. She stopped and turned around again. Looking at the very same chicken. It took a step towards her and Maggie steeled herself again. She moved forward with her arms outstretched this time. The towel ready to catch it. But again, in the last second her feet veered once more. Her arms pulled back into her chest quick and tight as if by springs or rigor mortis. Maggie swooped around and turned back to face the bird. She stomped one foot in frustration. Oh god, she didn't want to touch it....

(( OOC: A little music for the occasion because the only song with Chicken in the title on itunes fits rather nicely. Chicken Wire by Lauren O'Connell ))

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"What on earth are you doing?"

There was the barest sound of a faraway laugh from somewhere behind Maggie, over by the fence to the field of chicken coops. It wasn't meant to be mocking exactly, but with all of the drugs traipsing around willy-nilly in Cecil's veins, it was hard not to find almost everything funny, or at least mildly entertaining. Even group therapy, a few days ago, had been alright. he simply just didn't care all that much about the darker side of things. What were anxieties compared to this floating, cloud-like feeling?

He was leaning on the fence, standing outside of it, with his cast propped on the top beam, next to his other elbow. His chin resided in the palm of his hand, his back stooped to achieve it, and he smiled at Maggie from there, looking not entirely all home. Silently watching her approach the chicken over and over again, he wondered what on earth she was trying to do. Cecil didn't much care for any of the livestock, but the chickens were the least horrifying of them all, to him, and the drugs helped chase away any other lingering anxieties about the feathered fiends. A clearer and more logical mind probably would have pieced this together sooner. Maggie, in a field, with a towel, trying to pluck -no pun intended- up the courage to grab a chicken, no doubt for some nefarious prank. Mental processes were slow going for Cecil right now too, and the 'ah-hah' moment only came some good seconds after he'd asked her what she was up to.

"You know, they don't bite. Not like the goats." He left his post and drifted along the length of the fence, to the gate. Certainly he didn't trust himself to try and climb over the thing. He'd be utterly useless if he broke the other hand two. As it was, he already had to have someone else write everything for him as he dictated drugged gibberish to them. He'd failed his last few assignments miserably, and couldn't seem to completely care. It was hard to pay attention to class when he was examining the clouds beyond the window, looking for amusing shapes. Rabbit. Dragon. England. Face. Rabbit again. Pythagoras what? He had just come back from the stables, where he'd now been detailed to work, having escaped the trappings of having to see to the cows and sheep and goats. And chickens. For the most part he was relegated to polishing tack with his good hand, on account of the clumsy cast and the still fragile state of the hand beneath. But now that was over for the day, he let himself into the field of chicken coops, closing the gate behind him, and he wandered towards Maggie.

"What're you gonna do with it?" Ah yes, back to that ah-hah moment. He'd almost forgotten until he spied the towel again. Now he regarded Maggie and the fowl in question from a short way away, not seeming at all intimidated by the creature. He considered options for it idly and wondered why he'd never thought of doing this himself. It would be hilarious to chuck the thing into dormitory one while everyone was getting ready for lights out, and listen to the chaos ensue as it flapped around the room wildly. As long as Harry didn't just kill it, of course, which was a viable possibility, he fancied. He'd heard rumours of 'hamster killer' in the hallways, and didn't put it past the blond asshole in the least. Flushing a hamster seemed the lesser of Harry's evils when he thought back to the times he'd caught him alone, in the barn. "If you're gonna grab it, you should probably do it before the staff's finished getting ready for dinner. They'll be so pissed."

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Word, voice, and human presence made her cringe at first. It was becoming clear that the people at Highgrove that Maggie wanted befriend were few and far between. She'd learned her lesson when it came to friendly gestures to random people long ago. She'd make a point to be nice to the girls in her dorm and she was polite to everyone but that was where things ended short of extraordinary circumstances. Maggie crumpled up the towel in her hands. Pushing it down as if to minimize it and thus minimizing her embarrassment once she turned around. At least that was the subconscious hope. She crossed her little boots and pulled her muscles into a slow pivot around. Almost not wanting to know what or who lay behind her.

Her cheeks were flushed beneath the layer of foundation and cosmetic blush. Inside her mouth she was biting at her bottom lip ever so slightly. But when she saw it was Cecil there behind her her lips split into a big dazzling smile that genuinely extended into her eyes. Relief on her face and her feet already moving in his direction. She couldn't be gladder. Anyone else seeing this found be hard to explain and kind of shameful. Maggie didn't like to fail at anything, not even chicken abduction. But she felt a certain level of safety with Cecil. With him she could admit the hurdle she was having such trouble jumping.

She wouldn't have guess it was him at first, his voice had a strange new quality today. It lacked the hint of nerves and care that Cecil normally spoke with. This voice seemed more in the moment and reckless. But then, Maggie's speech was too at the moment. It came out sounding stressed, emotional, even a bit desperate. Not at all the composed nature she strived towards. But then, it wasn't the first time Cecil came across Maggie in a panic about something. Words spilled out of her after she took a deep breathe to fuel it.

"The other night in our dorm? We were playing truth or dare. And I was so excited because, well, I'd never played it before, but I'd seen it in movies and on TV and I thought it seemed to be something important that all girls did and we were all in our jammies and it was just like on TV. And it was okay, but then the next morning? I found this note on my pillow and it was from Faith and the edges of the paper were ripped all crooked. And it had a dare on it! A dare to catch a chicken and let it loose in one of the other dorms. And I thought it was just a joke so I didn't think about it anymore, but I guess the game didn't end because now she's started teasing me. So she's always clucking and bucking at me, and it's so embarrassing and this afternoon she did it so loud and everyone looked. And I just need to get her to STOP!"

Maggie took a deep breathe. Giving the towel a little keyed-up shake as it was was balled in her hands down by her thighs. As if she were strangling the inanimate object. Perhaps, imagining it was a certain someone. The breathe was a pronouced break from what was otherwise a very long, frantic string of words.

"So I came here, and I'm here and I've got this towel... But I can't. I just, even with the towel I can't pick it up. Because the dorms are so far... and what if it poops on me? Cecil then I'd have to walk all through the place with poop on me. Poop! What if it missed the towel?... and I could get in trouble. I don't want to be pooped on and get in trouble..."