Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
“Probably. Though I can’t promise I dress as a donkey every day at work,” Keith responded picking up another rock. Keith wasn’t surprised by the words Nash had been spitting out. Honestly, it was probably more tame than he was expecting. Teens these days find new ways to douse a lot of venom in their words.
The stone moved between his fingers. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you show me how to do it properly,” Keith offered – ignoring the jab his younger brother gave. But Nash didn’t need to know the struggle of perfectionism Keith had to battle for most of his life. But nature was one person that could always humble you. There was no such thing as perfectionism. Maybe, timing for a photograph. But nothing appeared to be built perfectly.
He watched the anger that Nash had in his throw, and it made him think of his younger self. All mad at the world, thinking that the world was against him. maybe it was, at the time. Now, as he was growing up and more mature - he was learning how to live with life.
Keith didn't bother prodding as to why Nash wasn’t in school. He learned that asking questions to his brothers would get him nowhere. Hell, this small interaction probably wouldn’t get him anywhere. But Keith wasn’t fishing for anything. This was all pure coincidence.
“It’s my day off,” he responded. “I guess I was silly to think this spot was only known to me,” he chuckled, stepping closer to the water line. Fingers played with the rock before he flicked it. Two skips was all he got before the rock sank to the bottom with a heavy plop.
Keith didn’t know what it was about the ocean, or any kind of body of water that made things clearer to him. Currently, on his mind – was if he wanted to make a better connection to his siblings. The blowout was a few months old now, but Keith didn’t know how much he wanted to push things. With Elaene, his aunt, in town too – there were a lot of things to be said and done.
On his day off, Keith found himself at the beach. School was in the session, and there was a low chance he would run into one of the younger ones, at least. Though the college was in session, too, right? So maybe Derek was his only worry.
His feet crunched on some of the pebbles to one of his favorite spots, the area Keith called the driftwood graveyard. A beautiful area where large pieces of driftwood fell upon the beach. As Keith made his way to his so-called spot – he noticed someone else. Someone who should be at school. Someone who was attempting to skip rocks.
Keith picked up a smooth rock and stood next to his younger brother. “Are you attempting to skip or are you pretending it’s my face?” he asked, his tone calm and collected. No hint of judgment, because he was sure that if he asked why Nash wasn’t in school – it would be met with some snarky remark. Hell, even his current question could be met with snark.
let me know when you want to come, and the one extra person you're bringing. he requests that you bring some of his posters. he's been doing well. especially in the art therapy group.
• Left home at 16. • Doesn't like the idea he was born, but has made his life where he accepts his livelihood. • Resents that his brothers were favored, and allowed more space to express themselves. • Siphoned money to Shaun, which was then moved to Stephen to help with upkeep. • Lives in a flat in Willow Bridge City, by himself. • Came back to the area after his mother's death. Mainly to see what his family was up to. He was sad, of course, but there seemed to be limited grief.
secrets
• Was physically attacked by their grandfather at five years old. (Was revealed to Nash, Shaun, and Stephen) • Was SA'd and attacked by friends and clients of their grandfathers at ten years old. (Was revealed to Nash, Shaun, and Stephen) • Knows about Elise from catching Tracey setting an extra setting on his birthday. Also caught her singing happy birthday to the setting in her room when he was thirteen. • Makes quite a nice paycheck with his job, which makes covering the cost of Jaces' care quite easy for him. • Ran into Tracey multiple times after he moved out, and knew the pain that she dealt with handling Jace. • Is a Pysch Nurse (only known to Nash, Shaun, and Stephen). • Is quite close with Elaene, as they connected over the horrible treatment brought on by his grandfather (her father). • Has kept up with their native language, mainly out of interest.
other
• Is receiving a large inheritance from his new parents when they both pass. They are stealth wealthy and are leaving the majority of their estate to him. • Will become a Nurse Practioner at the end of August 2023. • Just recently got to only smoking two cigarettes a day. • Keeps his word and has very strong boundary lines. • Has remained celibate for a few years, mainly due to the fact that hook-up culture isn't his jam.
It was evident he was hurting. Keith's chest felt raw, cut open without any way of stitching it back up. A few beads of sweat covered his forehead, his formerly well kept hair - damp and sticking. He didn't quite know what overcame, but all his feelings were out there. Maybe he was the toxic one, after all. Maybe he was the true villain. But there was something cathartic about it. Sure, the conversation could've been private. But Keith knew and learned long ago, a witness was always better.
He crawled back into the SUV. Almost like some puppy that was kicked. He sat, wanting to strip down to relieve the sweat that was pooling. Keith could feel it, the calming down of the adrenaline that he had imparted on himself.
The driver didn't say anything, other than turn the AC up. Probably to cover up the sounds of breath and whimpering. Thankfully, Keith's phone went off. Almost startling him. It was his second mother. His real mother now, since he didn't think he had the Breckah family anymore. He took a breath and picked up. "Hey, mum."
"Keith, are you okay? How'd it go?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I said things I've wanted to say for years. I think I'm officially cut out for good…"
"Well, come home. I don't want you driving out to Hollow Brooke all torn up. I'll get the tea started. Dad's ready to show you his new jazz album. He'd been talking about it all morning."
Keith couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure he has…I'll be home in a bit."
"Okay, sweetie. I'll be here, teary faced or not. I love you, Keith."
"I love you too, mum."
The call ended as the SUV finished turning through old and familiar streets, and soon to the highway to Willow Bridge.
“You’re right dad, I haven’t been here – but it’s my job to understand Jace. It’s my job to understand people like him. Because I work as a psych nurse. I help people like Jace almost 24/7. So you think you’ve seen it in all in Jace? Please, imagine Jace as a 280lbs (127kg) man. Coming at you with a pen screaming Jefferson told him to kill you. Someone that attempts to bite your neck because their brain is wired in a way that makes them think they’re Dracula. I did this because I know what an untreated person becomes. Do you want to be the parent that has their child kill themselves because they never got the resources they needed? Or have Jace fuck up so bad he’s in jail for the rest of his life, possibly on the streets, bumming cigarettes and alcohol? Because that’s the goddamn path. I’ve seen it with my two own eyes, and the scars on my back.”
Keith wasn’t surprised about Elise. Maybe he should’ve been, but if there was another thing that his parents taught him – it was to become observant. He remembered the one time he saw his mom set up an extra place setting, on his birthday. Keith, being young – had asked. She had told him an aunt may be able to stop by, but they never did. He didn’t find anything wrong with it until he stopped by his parents’ room when he was thirteen. He heard Mom softly singing happy birthday through the cracked door, with that mysterious extra place setting – a slice of cake on it.
“That’s one of your regrets, Dad? Having emotions and feelings? No wonder this family is so goddamn fucked up. Those are two things that should be so fucking normal, but you just never allowed it.” Keith’s tone was now matching his father’s. Anger, a feeling of pure rage. An evident sign that could be seen ghosting its way up Keith’s spine. He grabbed a chair and placed it in front of Shaun. The chair was backward, almost as a precautionary border between them. Keith sat in it, arms resting on the back of the chair. But he was close enough that his breath could be felt, and the faints of possible horns could be imagined.
“Trust your sons to tell you? Trust? Please….you want secrets then, Dad?” Keith snarled. “Here are some of my fucking secrets.” Keith, now – it didn’t matter the outcome. His secrets were known already, but not to Shaun. “When I was five, I came home with a massive black eye. I mean, my eye was swollen shut. Grandma told you I fell off the playground set, falling to my untimely doom. Face hitting the bottom of the slide. But that was a lie. Gramps had slapped me across my face so hard, my eye swelled up. Why? Because he saw me play with dolls with the kids next door. He wanted the slap woman out of men because men don’t do that. I came home, crying. Mom told me to let it out, but when you came home – you told me to buckle up. Pull those bootstraps up, because crying is weakness. Don’t ever show your weaknesses, Keith. No crying allowed; you must be strong.”
Honestly, it wasn’t the worst of it. “Those words made me shut the fuck up, faster than you could have ever imagined. So when I was ten, I came home – looking like I had been in a fight. Bruised, swollen – scratches all over me. I could barely walk. Gramps told you I had trained a bit too hard in the ring. But no, Dad. Stephen had accidentally spilled ice cream all over Grandma’s new kitchen set. I took the blame for it because that’s what protective older brothers do, right? Be the bigger person Keith. What does Gramps do? He takes me to the gym, telling Grandma to drop off Stephen. Drops me in the ring where some of his friends and clients are working drills. Do you want to know what that man told them to do? Correct me, Dad. Told them to correct my attitude. Then left. Those people did things to me, a child should never go through. Touched me in ways that scared me. But you know what I didn’t do? Cry. I didn’t cry because my own father told me not to. Because don’t show weakness, Keith.” Those words lingered in the air, like the smog of 19th-century London. Thick, black, and deadly. Keith remained silent, letting those words marinate in Shaun’s head to maybe, just maybe, trigger a memory of sorts. His eyes stared deep into Shaun’s eyes, not expecting anything. The same as always.
“Prickly and hard, because you allowed nothing else.” Keith stood up and placed the chair in its original resting spot. His back was to his family, allowing them to witness the deconstruction of his muscles. The tenseness melted away, like some weird body suit. To an untrained eye, an almost too fast of a change. His visible tattoos rippled as he clenched and released his fists a few times, a few rhythmic breaths.
“They were a better fit because they allowed me to show the things you told me not to,” Keith added, still facing away. His eyes were closed – allowing some reconnection of breath control to the heartbeat. “He allowed me to cry, punch the pillows, and bruise my knuckles. No judgment. No correction of punching form. No snark remarks. His wife was the first person to realize how troubled I was. How my trauma was eating away at me. They were the first to know. But in the right world, it would’ve been you and Mom. But like you said, I had to trust you to tell you.”
He turned around the words that were uttered from Nash’s mouth earlier, blowing over him. Like a small summer breeze. A whisper, but nothing that was dangerous or caused concern. He walked over to the bag that he had carried in and opened it. He grabbed the file and placed it on the table. “This is all the info on, Hollow Brooke, where I’ve placed Jace. An hour away, longer depending on the weather. It’s a max, of six patients. All with similar symptoms to Jace and close to age. Medication is not coerced or forced. It’s not a hospital, but a treatment home. No one will be allowed to see him in person for a month. Calls are welcomed, only if he wants to receive them. After that month, two people at a time can come to visit him. With me or one of the staff supervising. I am the point person, but I can have another person come and sign to receive all medical updates.” Sure, his father and brothers could argue with him, but that was the guidelines. And Keith, now they knew, would stand by his word.
Keith gathered himself together, running his hand through his hair before grabbing his bag. “Any other questions, you can call me.” He looked at Stephen. “No,” Keith said. “Like Dad, I don’t like repeating myself. I also know myself. Call it selfish, but I call it – protecting myself and everyone else.” He started to walk to the entrance of the living room before stopping. Keith stood there for a breath before turning around.
“You’re right, Dad. You and Mom didn’t understand me. But you never gave me a chance to be understood.” His face was calm now. Tired, swollen, but a bit more relaxed. “So I hope you’re able to give that to the rest of them.”
Keith couldn’t help but chuckle at his father’s statements. But he would explain everything, it didn’t matter now. The band aid was off now, and the pain was about to be revealed. When Keith got the call, the car began to move. His family was moved upstairs to calm down. He knew they probably wouldn’t talk, but that was fine.
He entered his childhood home, looking around at the carnage. A shame it had to be this way. Keith took a seat in the leather seat that he had claimed years ago, finding a photo album that had toppled over. It was a more recent one. One he wasn’t in.
Fingers flipped through the pages as he heard his father and his siblings being ushered into the living room, all forced onto the couch to face him. “It’s true,” Keith started. “I am an ingrate, but why should I be grateful for a failure of a father?” Keith snapped the photo album shut, before gingerly placing it on the coffee table next to him. “Try to gut me like a fish, and you’ll lose more than Jace.”
His eyes were stinging now, with rage and sadness. “I didn’t want to do this, you know?” he added – standing up, moving around the living room he hadn’t stepped into for years. “I didn’t even want to step into this home, a place I knew I never and would never belong in.” The tears began now. “But how could I stand around, knowing that this household was suffering? How could I not do anything? Why the fuck didn’t you and mom try harder? Jace has been battling his demons, for what? Ten years? What fucking kind of parents do that? Oh, right..I know..neglectful ones.”
He stopped, not caring that his eyes were red now. Those emotions everyone wanted to see. They were here now. “Why would I expect a man that was never around for me, to try and help his son that is severely mentally ill? Why would I expect a man who doesn’t even know any of his son’s interests to know what to do to support them? When you and Mom once told me to be the man, this wasn’t what I was expecting it to be. I wasn’t expecting parentification at such a young age because you and Mom couldn’t stop popping up children. Tell me, Dad, was I even fucking wanted? How many of us were even fucking planned?”
Keith could remember it clearly. When he was raging when his teenage self was writhing in pain from the lessons that his grandfather instilled in him. Dad and Mom, not answering their phones. Why? Because they were so occupied with Nash having a fever. Mom, who always answered her phone didn’t even pick up. So what did Keith do? He did what landed him in jail. Landed him in the dark cell, which forced him to realize that his parents…his parents didn’t care. “I had to argue with the judge, Dad, I had to convince him Jace was the only person that was in danger. I had to convince him that you were fully capable of taking care of everyone else when Jace is in treatment. Despite the evidence, despite the testimony of people around us.”
Keith turned his attention to Stephen, the third eldest. Face wet, nose red, lips trembling. “You want to know the real reason I left, Stephen? The awful truth of why I decided to leave. It was because I fucking resented every single brother that was brought into this goddamn house. Mom was an angel to almost every single of us, but as the oldest – it was like I was pushed the fuck aside. Do you know what she told me when I came home from jail? I love you, Keith. But I need you to do better. No, I’m sorry this happened. No, acknowledging that she may have caused me to become this way. No way of showing comfort to me. She had the audacity to tell me I had to watch the home, while she and Dad took you all to the beach. Why the fuck wasn’t I allowed to go to the beach? Where was all the equal love that everyone kept talking about?”
His breath and mind were blurred. Evident that it was all something he wanted to scream for years. “I tried so fucking hard to be the best fucking son and brother,” Keith croaked. “I tried so fucking hard, but I got no ounce of validation. This, me crying…would make you train me harder. No tears allowed Keith. Champions don’t fucking cry, Keith.”
He flopped back into the leather seat and rested his face in his palms. His eyes were closed, allowing him a few minutes to control his breathing. Keith looked up again, pushing his damp hair back. He was now disheveled. That clean, ridged look he had given Mav, Stephen, and Dad was now gone. Keith was vulnerable. “Answer me, Dad,” Keith croaked, sitting fully up, slouching. “How much do you know about your own sons? Did you know Nash was an excellent actor? If you did, how are you supporting that? Did you know he was skipping class? And what about Stephen? Did you know he was entering underground fights to help support the family? Dropping out of his dream school. Don’t you have any guilt? Or are you just going to blame everyone else, other than your goddamn self?”
“I don’t get it…” Keith sighed. “I don’t get why I couldn’t get the same love. The same attention…I had to be thrown in the slammer to help me realize, that I don’t fucking belong here and to this family. No Breckah left behind..bull shit.”
"You're getting what you wanted, right? Don't have to fight Jace anymore and you don't have to fucking look at me like I was the biggest mistake."
Tips of well-manicured fingers for a nurse, tapped on the side of the door. Keith could hear everything for the most part. The sound of his father wanting to fight an officer off Jace. How rich. Then, there was Nash. Keith only knew the voice, mainly from when he saw Nash in Midsummer Night. He was...what was it again? Puck? He was quite good. Keith enjoyed his performance. Last, but not least – Stephen. The brother he was sure Dad didn’t feel any guilt over ending a strong career. Or if there was any, it was evident that it wasn’t shown.
Chaos ensued. There was more screaming and orders being barked. Even the sound of what could possibly be glass. Keith could hear more of the vocals than the background, and even then – it was still a mystery what happening. It felt like a few years, but maybe an hour or even more. Keith’s phone rang and he answered. “Hello…yes, I see. No, don’t give him any dosages. Just do physical restraints…Yes, of course. See if you can get him calm before you drive. Maybe twenty minutes? He’ll be prone to hurt himself, I have a feeling of that. Just monitor him.…. Okay, thank you.” Keith closed his phone, happy to hear the home staff got Jace safely into their van. Albeit…a bit more mangled than he had hoped. But they were the best of the best. It was one of the reasons he chose them.
The signal to go to the house still hadn’t gone off yet, so he waited. He was sure his father and his brothers would need some medical care. From the screaming, he would be surprised if anyone didn’t need it.
Keith had a bit of a malicious smirk cross his face. He was getting back at his father, in this weird, twisted manner. Doing the thing good parents should have done years ago. Keith hated that it ended this way, but what could be done? Appointments were scheduled but no one showed up. Resources were barely used. Maybe there was one person in the house to set up an individual therapist appointment, but that could have also been a no-show.
All Keith had control over was the appointment was made and if they didn't show up. It was a shame, really. It didn’t matter now. Keith had already accepted to be written out of whatever funds his mother left him after she died. Or whatever his father's current living will be. He had already accepted that he would live his life being the one person that tore this family to molecular shreds.
He sat in a black SUV a few blocks from his family home. Police, EMTs, and social workers were already on their way. It didn't take long for the pounding of the door by the police to be heard over the headpieces. Maybe it was too much, but people like Jace had the strength of someone on Crack. Once that fight or flight hit - it could take more than one person to subdue. Plus, if it was true how much damage could be done - medical staff were on hand to treat whatever fighting wounds that were had.
July 1st. Keith stayed by his word. His father could blame him all he wanted, but it was too late to fix things now. Shaun would have to wait a grueling month before he could see Jace once he was settled into the care unit. Even then, it would be supervised until proven otherwise.
Maybe it was some sick power play, but it was his turn now. He wasn't scary then, but oh no - Keith was the devil himself now. Shaun would finally hear the dark monologue Keith had locked up inside him. Evidence of neglect and resentment. Hope, care, and love…were all fizzled to a thin line.
He leaned back in the cushy back seat of the car. It was a waiting game now, ready for the signal to come on over like death on his horse.
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