Blank. As far as he knew most of his life had been that way.
Some of his brain was static, memories he was positive he had gotten rid of in order to continue on but then again there wasn't much to remember in his opinion. It was a cycle he lived through afterall, a good routine that kept himself in check and soothed him. The only thing that seemed to matter was the information he took in, he learnt and taught himself, anything that'd help him help others... anything that'd help him prevent anything drastic.
Everything in his life is colourless. Uninteresting unlike the books he reads or the fancy coffee instead of bitter ones he treats himself from time to time... a fitting life for an uninteresting man.
Brown messy hair, brown tired eyes that are pulled down by dark eyebags, an ongrowing stubble he promised himself he'd get rid of soon, plain baggy white t-shirt with baggy jeans. The kind of guy you'd pass by and not look twice, won't remember- not even used as one of those spare faces in dreams.
His room was tiny and tidy, unlived in. The only mess you'd find would be the scattered books on his desk or coffee table, opened on the page he'd been reading last, or a forgotten mug here and there.
His bed was made, shelf neat with books and the gifts displayed on such as 'thank you' cards from when he worked as a student counseller, his laptop closed with mouse put away, notebooks stacked and pens lined up perfectly.
His place was small and although he could get a place a bit bigger where the kitchen was actually separate from his room and living room, he had deemed it unnecessarily. Perhaps even too lonely...not that he'd let himself think too hard about it.
The TV was small and on mute as he left the fan on for some white noise that would block the sound of the waking people outside. Headphones in as he listened to a podcast and zoned out enough just to take in information as he watched the many pictures on the screen flash before the monotone voice from the podcast was interrupted by his phone alarm.
With a heavy sigh, he forced himself up from the old sofa where he'd been laying in with his favourite stuffed spider plush, replacing the stuffed toy upon his pillow on the bed neatly before heading to start his day.
He should've gotten some sleep, he thought to himself as he showered, washing his hair in deep thought. He should've used the time he had been awake to actually make himself presentable for once... he should've made use of time, made use of the luxury he has to be alive-
"Good morning" he practiced in the mirror for a moment, a smile upon his lips dropping in a blink of an eye "Good morning! ... Good morning-"
Hair brushed and decently dressed in pants, shirt and a sweater cardigan, he finally walked out with his bag strap in his hand as he locked the keys to his apartment, earphones in.
White. White walls, white corridors, white doors, white curtains, white uniforms, white smiles and many white lies.
"He'll be alright"
"Life gets better"
"There is nothing to worry"
How can they lie so easily to one another, to their patients? They needed guidance, help not some lie the rest of the world has been telling them... not something that proved against their reason for being present in such a place.
Scanning his ID psychiatric hospital card at the entrance, he finally made his way in, fixing his slouching as he darted for the coffee machine in one of the staff rooms.
"Huh...White cup" he noted to himself as he held the carton cup in hand, filling it up with the hot bean bitter juice he so despised so much.
Everything was a fuzz, foggy and distance until the very moment his dry lips touched the biting coffee that burnt down his gullet.
Noise began to flood into the room, chatter grew immense and the white lights brighter, people weren't shapes and they were present and talking amongst themselves.
Leaning against the wall as he pulled out his glasses from the pocket of his shirt, he began to assess.
"We can't take that lunatic!" A man cried, face red and eyebrows drawn in anger as he slammed his hand against the white table
"We can't exactly get rid of him either" a woman huffed, arms crossed as her index finger tapped against her own arm
"Well...no one wants to take this job" another woman says, twiddling her hair invetween her fingers "so what do we do?"
"Assign the job to someone" another man shrugged seeming uncaring if not from the way he bounced his leg and clenched his coffee
"What if the job is assigned to you? You're going to do it?" The woman with crossed arms pointed with an accusing look
"Personally, I think we should just...you know" a thin man looked down at his feet before filling his cup with coffee
"Put him down?" Suggested another
"This isn't a dog!"
"Can't be a man either! Thing's mad! He's going to put us all in danger like the last hospital"
"Wasn't it just an accident though?"
"Accident or not- it happened!"
So...so noisy. He sipped on his coffee.
"What's happening" someone new entered and his attention turned to them "I saw policemen at the front and everyone is gossiping" she carried a joking tone.
Silence.
The angry man's jaw twitches. The lady's finger grasps her arm. The woman's hands play with her own hair more. The man whos sat down crosses his arms. The other man taps his coffee cup...
Everyone is on edge. Shaken, he notes.
And perhaps he should be too.
Their conversation is cut short when an announcement is made though the white speakers, calling the psychologist in the same area as he to go to a meeting room.
"Shi-- I didn't see you there man" one of his colleagues jumps as she notices him lean away from the wall to follow the announcement "You're like a ghost...damn" she laughs but her feet face away from him and her hands come closer to herself. She's creeped out.
"I get that a lot" he smiled to ease her a little, fixing his glasses as he threw the cup away in the trash.
Just like everything else, the room was white. Pale chairs and table and a large whiteboard that had been rubbed clean.
"Is everyone here?" his manager, John Jonah Jameson, asks with a cigarette trapped inbetween his lips as he sat at the end of the table. Placing his cigarette on an ashtray, he blows a puff of smoke out and lifts his head enough that his jaw seems to be making more eye contact than his actual eyes.
Looking down on his employees.
Covering his wrinkling nose, he closed his eyes for a moment to focus on not coughing or cringing at the scent of cigarettes or even dare to tell his superior that it is phorbidden to smoke on grounds.
With shoulders forced to relax, he stared ahead towards his Jonah Jameson, awaiting whatever were to come.
"As many of you know, we got a new patient recently" John J began, twisting the butt of the cigarette for a moment "We took him in because we're being paid to keep him under control, to help him as it is our job..." he looked up, eyes pausing on every head of his employees.
"It might've been a scary sight, I know. The...unstable people we take in sometimes wear straight jackets but they rarely become as aggressively as some of ypu might seen-" he stopped, mustache curling downwards with a frown as someone lift their hand "What?"
"Is it true that they hurt their last aide? That they...killed them?" One asked, eyes widening in fear
"No- he didn't kill her" John rolled his eyes "just severely hurt her- nothing to worry about" he waved his hand, dismissing it "Now... as I was saying, we are getting paid well for this and all we have to do is check up on the guy once or twice- keep him locked in one of the rooms where he won't be anything to worry about..." he huffed, leaning back against the chair "we will be performing talk sessions as you'd any other, check on mental and physical health too"
The room seemed to grow tense, people looking away or down at themselves, much alike how kids avoid the teacher's eyes in order not to get picked for a question.
"This meeting is to choose who will be that someone- the one responsible for this new patient--" John huffed harshly, glaring at him "What?"
"What is the Patient's name?" He asked, leaning in curiously "and if its alright asking, what seems to be the problem with him?"
"Well he's fucking crazy that's what's wrong with him" John snarled before keeping his eyes trained on him "if you want more information it will be in his records...that you'll get when you accept him as your patient" he said slowly as if negotiating.
Wide eyes followed and landed on him as if some sort of spotlight were shining down upon him, a microphone pointed at his mouth, awaiting answer.
"I'd like to take this patient, Mr Jameson" he nodded before jumping as his manager suddenly got up
"Well it's decided then, come along now" he span around towards the door, seeming to not wait for him to follow.
The walk out of the room was...something. People seemed to look at him with sympathy, confusion or as if he were either crazy or dead. Some even patted his shoulder as he walked out with thankful smiles like he were sacrificing himself for them.
"Weird" he mumbled with a small huffed, entertained by their reactions.
Lead to a white door and given a white file on the patient, he took a seat outside once John had left him with a loud laugh and harsh pat on the back
"You're a real life saver!" He smacked the air out of him just before he strolled away, free of responsibility.
Slowly, he adjusted his glasses as he began to read, butt against the cold floor as he rubbed his face in the files.
"Name: Wade Winston Wilson. Age: 31" he read quietly to himself, taking in the notes of the previous aide as well the reports filed by doctors and the officers that were on site when the I incident happened.
"A burn victim" he hummed with a frown that kept making itself present as he began to notice there was not nearly enough on his actual health despite being a burnt victim, despite having clear mental distress...
With another sigh he stood, wiping his bottom before tucking the file neatly beneath his arm as he turned towards the door and grabbed the handle.
Faltering for only a moment, ears straining for noise from the inside before he finally took a deep breath and-
White. White walls, white bedsheets, white table, white chairs, white jacket...and bright blue eyes hidden behind a red mask.
"Good morning, Mr Wilson" he greeted with a friendly smile "I am here to help you during your stay here" he introduced himself
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Peter Parker"