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MidReal Story
The Broken Brother
Scenario:Меня зовут Льюис. Я разыскивал своего старшего брата Джеффри, который убил наших родителей и стал психопатом. Поиск привёл меня в убежище серийных убийц, похожее на общежитие и там я нашел своего брата. Он был в плохом состоянии, так как побывал в психушке и натерпелся там издевательств. После, когда друзья его спасли, он пытался убить себя из-за адской боли в теле. Джеффри не мог ходить и даже шевелится
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Lewis
He is a determined brother searching for his fugitive sibling. He is resilient,compassionate,and driven. Lewis navigates through a cold prison cell to find his longlost brother,Jeffrey. Despite finding him in a dire condition,with signs of mental deterioration and physical disability,Lewis remains supportive. He learns about Jeffrey's traumatic experiences in a mental institution,where he was treated like an animal and forced to endure suffering. Lewis's quest for closure and understanding propels him forward.
Dr. Elena Vasquez
She is a compassionate psychologist working in a mental institution. She is empathetic,dedicated,and sorrowful. Elena discovers Jeffrey's presence in the institution and treats him with kindness and care,despite the harsh conditions and neglect he faces. Her interactions with Jeffrey reveal her efforts to comfort him and extract information about his past. Her commitment to her patients is evident as she strives to provide what little solace and dignity they can muster in such an inhospitable environment.
Jeffrey
He is a tortured soul struggling with the aftermath of a traumatic childhood. He is broken,vulnerable,and tormented. Jeffrey is found by his brother Lewis in a prison cell,barely recognizable due to the physical and emotional scars inflicted by the mental institution he was forced into. His experiences there have left him unable to walk or speak clearly. Despite his condition,he attempts to communicate with Lewis,sharing the horrors of his past and expressing a deep connection with his brother.
My name is Lewis.
I am looking for my brother, Jeffrey, who killed our parents.
I finally found him, but he was not the psychopath I was expecting.
Instead, he was broken, vulnerable, and unable to walk or talk.
My quest to find him led me to a haven for serial killers, which surprisingly looked like a dormitory.
Finding him there in such a condition broke my heart, but also gave me closure.
I learned about his time in a mental institution, where he was treated like an animal and forced to endure hellish pain and suffering.
The story of my brother Jeffrey and the atrocities he faced in that institution will haunt me forever.
I am grateful to have found him and to be able to tell his story.
I sat on the bed beside him.
The room was quiet, except for the sounds of the dormitory from outside.
His eyes were fixed on a spot on the wall, and he didn't seem to be aware of my presence.
I reached out and gently touched his hand, but he didn't react.
"Jeffrey," I whispered softly, "it's me, Lewis."
I paused for a moment, then continued, "Do you remember when we were kids? We used to play together in the backyard. You would chase me around and try to catch me."
I smiled slightly, remembering those happy moments.
"You were so fast, and I always thought I could outrun you. But you were always one step ahead."
I took a deep breath and continued talking, hoping to break through his silence.
"I remember when we went on vacation to the beach. You built a big sandcastle, and I tried to knock it down. You got so mad at me, but then we both ended up laughing about it."
I looked at him closely, searching for any sign of recognition in his eyes.
But there was nothing.
He just stared blankly ahead, his breathing shallow and steady. I tried again, this time speaking more softly.
"Jeffrey, I know you're in there somewhere. I know you can hear me. Please, just give me a sign."
I waited for what felt like an eternity, but there was no response.
I sighed and leaned back against the headboard, feeling defeated.
But then I noticed something - his fingers twitched slightly.
It was a small movement, almost imperceptible.
But it was enough to give me hope.
I leaned forward again, this time moving closer to him.
"Jeffrey," I said softly, "I'm here for you. I want to help you."
I leaned closer, my face inches from his.
His breathing was shallow and rapid, and I could feel the heat of his skin radiating towards me.
I reached out and gently touched his face, and he flinched slightly.
But he didn't pull away.
"Jeffrey," I whispered softly, "can you hear me?"
He didn't respond, but I could see the faintest glimmer of recognition in his eyes.
I leaned back and looked at him more closely.
His skin was flushed and hot to the touch, and I realized that he had a fever.
I quickly felt his forehead and neck, confirming my suspicions.
His fever was high, and he needed medical attention as soon as possible.
I called Nurse Ann, and she hurried into the room with a medical kit.
She checked his temperature and confirmed that he had a high fever.
She quickly prepared a fever-reducing injection and explained to me what she was doing as she worked.
Her movements were quick and precise, and I watched anxiously as she injected the medication into his arm.
I held his hand tightly as the medicine took effect, hoping that it would help him recover quickly.
His breathing remained shallow but steady, and I stayed by his side, monitoring his condition closely.
As the sun began to rise, his fever finally started to subside.
His breathing slowed, and his body relaxed slightly.
I sat beside him, watching him closely as he slept.
His eyes were still fixed on the wall, but I could see that they were no longer staring blankly ahead.
They were moving slightly, as if he was trying to focus on something.
I leaned forward and spoke softly to him again.
"Jeffrey, it's me, Lewis. I'm here for you."
I paused for a moment, then continued talking.
"Do you remember when we were kids? We used to play together in the backyard. You would chase me around and try to catch me."
I smiled slightly, remembering those happy moments.
"You were so fast, and I always thought I could outrun you. But you were always one step ahead."
I took a deep breath and continued talking, hoping to break through his silence.
"I remember when we went on vacation to the beach. You built a big sandcastle, and I tried to knock it down. You got so mad at me, but then we both ended up laughing about it."
I looked at him closely, searching for any sign of recognition in his eyes.
And then I saw it - his gaze shifted slightly towards me.
It was a small movement, but it was enough to give me hope.
I leaned forward again, this time moving closer to him.
"Jeffrey," I said softly, "I know you're in there somewhere. I know you can hear me." His eyes shifted again, this time focusing more clearly on my face.
I could see that he was trying to process what was happening around him.
His breathing remained shallow but steady, and I stayed by his side, monitoring his condition closely.
As the sun continued to rise, his eyes slowly began to focus more clearly on me.
He didn't respond verbally, but I could see that he was starting to become more aware of his surroundings.
I adjusted the blanket covering him and checked his temperature again.
It had dropped significantly since the injection, and I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that he was on the road to recovery.
His eyes followed my movements as I worked, and I could see that he was starting to become more curious about what was happening around him.
I leaned closer to him, my hands gently cupping his cheeks.
His skin felt warm under my touch, a stark contrast to the feverish heat he had radiated earlier.
I pressed my lips to his forehead in a soft kiss, hoping to convey my support and love.
As I did, I noticed a subtle change in his expression; his eyes softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
It was as if the warmth of my gesture was breaking through his shell of pain and trauma.
I held his hand, my gaze drifting to the scars that marred his wrist.
They were a testament to his desperate attempts to end his suffering.
I asked him about them, my voice barely above a whisper.
He looked away, his eyes filled with pain and regret.
I gently traced the scars with my finger, and he flinched slightly but didn't pull away.
I told him that I was there for him, no matter what.
He squeezed my hand weakly, a silent acknowledgment of my presence.
We sat in silence for a while, the weight of his past actions hanging between us like a heavy cloud.
As the sun continued its ascent, I knew I had to help him heal, not just physically but also emotionally.
Jeffrey's eyes locked onto mine, his body tensing as recognition dawned.
His fingers gripped the bedsheet tightly, his knuckles turning white.
I leaned closer, trying to soothe him, but he recoiled slightly, his breath quickening.
I recounted more memories, hoping to calm him, but his fear only intensified.
He tried to speak, his voice a hoarse whisper, struggling to form words.
"No, no..." he whispered, his voice filled with fear.
I took his hand, my touch gentle and reassuring.
"I'm here to help you, not to hurt you," I whispered back.
His eyes darted around the room, still filled with mistrust.
I returned from the grocery store to find Jeffrey asleep in his bed.
The room was quiet, except for the sound of his steady breathing.
I set the groceries down on the small table beside his bed and began unpacking them.
As I placed each item on the table, I glanced at him occasionally, making sure he was still asleep.
His face was calm and peaceful in sleep, a stark contrast to the pain and fear that had been etched on it earlier.
After unpacking the groceries, I sat down in a chair beside his bed and watched him sleep.
His chest rose and fell slowly, and his breathing remained steady.
I reached out and gently adjusted the blanket covering him, making sure he stayed warm.
The window beside his bed was open, and the morning wind blew in, causing the curtains to billow inward.
The sound of the wind rustling through the leaves outside filled the room, creating a soothing background noise.
I sat beside him, watching his motionless form.
His back faced me, and my whisper of his name went unanswered.
I turned him toward me.
His eyes were now closed, and his body remained still.
Panic surged through me as I realized he wasn't breathing.
I screamed for help, my voice echoing off the cold walls.
Nurse Ann rushed in, her face pale with worry.
She checked his pulse and shook her head solemnly.
I collapsed beside the bed, gripping his hand tightly as the warmth seeped away from his skin.
The other patients in the room watched silently, their expressions blank.