Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> Panic! At The Disco >> This is the Scent of Dead Skin On The Linoleum Floor.
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Watch your mouth.
White. Grey. White. Grey. Everywhere.
White sheets and pillow. Grey blanket. White walls. Grey dresser. Grey desk. Grey nightstand.
Cold tile. Cold, white, tile. He could feel himself going mad as he sat upon the
stupid bed, cot, whatever the hell it was, and blankly took in his surroundings including his
roommate. He seemed like a nice enough guy.
Very thin just like Ryan. Whit-ish blonde hair that was kind of long and almost touched his
shoulders on the sides. Light crystal blue eyes. Arian looking, almost. Evidently his name was
Ryan was allowed one dresser, one nightstand, one desk, one bed, and two pillows. He was to
share the adjoined bathroom with Christopher and the medicine cabinet plus two big cabinets in it.
There were to be no cords, drawstrings, or sharp objects in his possession at any time. He was to
attend one group and one individual therapy session every day. Meals were at 9:00am, 1:00pm, and
5:00pm, and he was allowed two healthy snacks at anytime between the hours of 6:00am and
9:45pm.During the day when special activities were not planned, he was allowed to spend time in the
game room, the television room, the movie room, and the exercise room. Outside activities like
basketball, tennis, and soccer were always planned. Lights out at ten. No exceptions.
Again he thought to himself, `This fucking sucks.' as he began to quietly unpack his
things. There was only one thing he needed to do right now, and that was talk to someone in charge.
After he was done putting things into drawers absentmindedly, he left the room in search of someone
to help him. As he strolled lightly down one of the hallways, looking at the boring walls which were
a big change from the lobby, he was stopped.
“Excuse me, but you need a pass to walk around unsupervised.” Ryan looked up at the
fair middle-aged woman and sighed in relief that he had found someone. “Hi. Sorry, I didn't
know about the pass thing. Umm, do you know where someone in charge is, so I can talk to them,
please?” The woman seemed to relax a bit, seeing that he wasn't psychotic or anything and
“Actually, that would be me. I'm Mrs. Latrixxe, head therapist and psychologist. How can I
help you today...” she hinted for his name. “Oh I'm Ryan Ross. I'm new here. I just was
wondering if I could have some notebooks.” She blankly looked at him.
“You wanted these for..?” she asked curiously yet not nosily.
“Writing. It's really important for me to be able to write. It's this…thing I have,
I guess. I just really need some notebooks. And some pens that don't smudge when I write,
please.” Ryan said politely. The woman looked intrigued. “
Well sure, sure. We can go get some right now if you want. And pens too.” She smiled warmly at
him and began walking off in the direction of some random hallway.
When they approached a door and Mrs. Latrixxe pulled out a key, he assumed they were at their
destination. He followed her into the room and was quite pleased with the way it looked. It wasn't
so boring and dull like other rooms. The walls were painted a bright blue shade and gorgeous
paintings and sketches were hung everywhere on the walls. Her desk was big and light colored, almost
the shade of sand. She had four or five large bookcases filled with what looked to be everything
from Classics from authors like Dickens and Hemingway to newer books such as `I'm not myself
lately', `Paper Towns', and `The Perks of being a Wallflower.'. He smiled, liking this room more
than all the others. He wondered out loud. “Why aren't your degrees and stuff on the
She laughed softly and said “Because I have this job, why brag about how qualified I am
for it? Their at home in some filing cabinet.”, as she rummaged around in a desk drawer. Ryan
nodded, understanding what she meant, and appreciating her modestly and lack of need to feel
superior. The only other person he really got that from was Brendon. He grew sad just thinking about
it and a small frown made its way onto his face.
Mrs. Latrixxe noticed this as she handed Ryan three navy blue notebooks and five pens the same
color. “What's wrong?' she said concernedly. He looked up at her, his honey orbs sparkling
with tears he was fighting to keep in his eyes. “Oh, just I really miss my best friend, he was
the only one I could count on and talk to. And I didn't even get to say goodbye to him.” As he
took the notebooks and pens, mumbling a quick `thank-you' he swiftly walked out of the room,
desperate to get back to his room and rip one open so he could scribble down all the words stuck
inside his brain, fighting their way out.
Hey guys, thanks fer reading.
About the whole `Ryan and Keltie' thing: What a DICK.
I seriously lost a lot of respect for Mr. Ross as an artist and as a person. However, this story
isn't necessarily about `Ryan' Ryan if that makes any sense. Yes, I took his qualities and stuff,
but in this story, he's whoever I want him to be.
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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.
Please see the Terms of Service for more information.