"Kurt can't see anybody today," One of the orderlies at Michael Hopkins tells me as I'm standing in the lobby area the next day. I wasn't able to make it to see Kurt yesterday when I had told him that I would because after a long break in the morning, we worked through Kurt's visiting hours. Today though, they gave us a two hour lunch break so I'm taking the time to visit Kurt.

"What? Is he okay?" I ask, feeling very alarmed by how she said that.

"He's just having a rough day," She explains to me, her voice soft and slow like she's talking to one of the patients here. "He's getting through this but he's been having some violent tendencies today."

"That's okay, I still want to see him," I insist pleadingly. "Please, give me just like five minutes maybe. It could help him to see me."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, it says here that he's at a level eight and that means that he can't see any visitors right now," She explains to me from her side of the computer.

"But I can help," I insist, a little bit louder now. "I can help, if I can just talk to him for five minutes. Please."

"Iris," Martha steps into the lobby and the orderly behind the desk looks at me with loads of sympathy. "Kurt's having an episode today. I'm sorry but you know the rules."

"I know but I just think that if he saw me, he'd feel better," I tell her, desperately wanting to believe that even though I know that it's not true. "I've just had a rough week and I really want to see him."

She looks like she's thinking about it, trying to balance the pros and cons of letting me see my brother. "You can talk to him," She decides. "But you'll have to keep your distance, alright?"

I nod. "Yes. Okay. Thank you."

I sign into the visitors log and then follow Martha into the back. Kurt is sitting at a table outside in the large courtyard, looking down at the table and murmuring to himself. With his hands tugging at his light brown hair, he doesn't even notice me walking up to the table. When Martha thinks that I'm getting too close, she touches my shoulder so I stop walking.

"Hey, Kurt," I speak loudly, trying to break through to him.

"Hi, hi, hi," He mumbles quietly but he doesn't look up from the table. "Iris."

"Yeah, it's me, it's Iris," I confirm with a nod. "How are you feeling?"

He doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't stop by yesterday but work took forever," I keep talking even though he's still mumbling to himself. "I'm really glad that I got to see you today."

"I can't let them get you," Kurt tells me, shaking his head and then he looks up at me, he looks angry but I can tell that he's not angry at me. When he stands up, Martha starts to stiff up. "I can't let them hurt my sister."

"Kurt," My voice is trembling now. "Nobody's going to hurt me. I'm right here, I'm fine."

"No, no, no," He shakes his head again. Martha steps forward, putting herself between me and Kurt. That's the opposite of what I want. I want to be able to hug him, to be right there for him. I want to take away all of his pain, even if that means feeling the pain myself. I don't care. I want him to feel better. Right now though, he's almost pulling out his hair to try to get an unreal bug out of his head and he's deathly afraid of an unreal group of people trying to kill both of us. My chest starts to ache so badly for my brother that it's almost hard to breathe. I can't help him, I can't do anything.

"They're going to get you," He says, his voice louder now with more conviction than before.

"Iris, I think you should leave now," Martha tells me slowly in a quiet voice in an attempt to keep her words from Kurt as she waves over a few other orderlies wearing khakis and light yellow polo uniforms. By the look on Kurt's face though, I'd say that he heard her.

"No!" He shouts loudly, his stubbly face scrunching into one of pure rage. He starts running toward me, around Martha. "You can't take her away from me!"

Martha tries to stop him from getting to me and I guess if I was afraid, I could have ran, but I'm not afraid of Kurt. And so I don't run, I just stand there as the other yellow-ridden orderlies get to Kurt. He's standing right in front of me now and I'm cupping my mouth to hold in my sobs. He's yelling loudly now but with now words.

"You can't take her away!" He yells again as he starts thrashing in their arms and, being so close to me, his fist collides with my cheek. It's not a hard enough blow to make me fall over but I do stumble back a few feet and put a hand to my face. It's bleeding.

"Iris," Martha looks at me with concern as the orderlies capture Kurt with a better hold to try and get him to calm down.

"It's fine," I assure her, trying to get past the ache in my face so that I can at least say goodbye to Kurt. "I'm so sorry. I'll go. I'm so sorry."

He's still yelling at them to let me stay here with him as I'm running out of the courtyard and back into the facility. I feel bad for talking Martha into letting me see him because she probably feels guilty for me getting hurt. It was clearly my fault though, I shouldn't have asked her to break the rules for me. I need to face the facts that sometimes, me being there isn't the best thing for Kurt.

I sign out in the lobby and, ignoring the receptionist when she asks if I'm alright, I hurry out of the building and to my car. I find an old McDonald's napkin in my glove box and I hold that to my cheek while I drive back to the studio. It's easy for me to focus on the road instead of crying because it's really not easy to cry and drive at the same time. Once I'm parked at the studio again though, I don't have anything to keep my mind busy enough and the tears are starting to spill again.

Of course, I don't regret seeing my brother. I don't care if I'm in danger by being near him when he's having an episode. He would never hurt me on purpose—I have to believe that—but I know that I shouldn't have gone in once Martha had told me no the first time. In the long run, it's worse for Kurt because when he's feeling better, he'll feel consumed by the guilt that he hurt me. I shouldn't have done that to him.

Once I'm back in the studio, I find Georgie, one of the makeup artists. "I need my makeup redone," I inform her as I'm walking into the makeup room.

"Holy cow," She breathes out when she sees the cut on my face. Once in the room, I'm standing across from a mirror and I can see just how horrifying I look right now. The bleeding has slowed but hasn't stopped and I guess the napkin didn't really absorb much of the blood, it just smeared it around my face some which makes my face look incredibly grotesque. Not to mention my eyes are puffy and red from crying and there are still tears falling down my face. "I think you need a first-aid kit first. What happened to you?"

"It's, uh... nothing," I mutter, not really wanting her to think that I got mugged or something but also not wanting to tell her what actually happened.

"Okay. Just sit tight really quick, I'll be right back," She tells me, patting my shoulder and nudging me toward the couch that's along the wall of the wide room. Georgie then hurries out of the room to find a first-aid kit I assume. A few minutes later though, she returns empty handed with the Ronald, the director, following right behind her.

"What happened to you?" He wonders immediately, looking very concerned.

"It's just a scratch," I say quickly, trying to wipe some of the dried blood from my face so that it doesn't look so gross. "I just need some makeup and I'm good to go."

"You can't put makeup on something that's still bleeding," Ronald tells me with a shake of his head. "Are you sure that you're alright?"

"Yeah, it's nothing," I assure him.

"What should we do, sir?" Georgie asks the man. "It'll dry up soon, I can probably conceal it if you want me to."

"No," Ronald decides. "Call a medic down here, have them check it out and give her some ice and then you need to head home, Iris. Take the rest of the day off, alright?"

"Please don't do that," I mutter. "I can't afford to take a half day off if I don't need to."

"Well, I can't put you on camera," He says, looking like he's trying to decide what to do. I'm pleading with him with my eyes to let me stay on set. Getting sent home is the opposite of helping Kurt and I've already done enough damage today. "Okay. Fine, okay. Let the medic give you some ice and you can stick around doing coffee runs and stuff like that. Alright?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you," I breathe out, feeling relieved that I'm not going to be sent home. He nods at me and then disappears as Georgie is making a call to the medic that they have in the studio just in case one of the actors or something gets hurt. I don't understand that because it's not like they're doing any dangerous work right now.

In the next hour, the medic puts a bandage on my cut and then gives me ice to put on it. He tells me to keep the ice on for as long as possible and then I'll be good to go back to work which, for me, includes coffee runs and basic assistant work. I don't care what I'm doing though, as long as I'm doing something.

I thank the medic and Georgie as I leave the makeup room and head out into the studio space. We still have another hour of our lunch break but the crew is still hard at work. They're redoing the set for what they're going to be shooting next as the camera people are setting up for the next scene. It's pretty hectic on the set so I decide to go back into a lounge that they call the "extra lounge" to just hang out for a little while until they start shooting again.

On my way down the hallway though, one of the doors open and then suddenly, I'm running into Zachary Nash. His bushy eyebrows furrow as he takes in my disheveled appearance. I realize that the room he's leaving is his dressing room, in a row along with the other three guys.

"Sorry," I mutter before I'm hurrying away again but before I get too far, Zachary speaks up.

"Wait, are you okay? What happened to your face?" He asks me, causing me to stop walking and to turn and look at him again.

I just shrug at him and cross my arms over my chest to stop them from shaking. "Genetics, I guess."

"Did you get robbed or something?" He wonders.

"No, I'm sure if I was robbed, they wouldn't just scratch my face," I explain to him, feeling very uncomfortable with this guy paying so much attention to me. I wonder if he even knows my name or if he's just oddly fascinated by injuries. He is in a lot of horror movies.

"You're an extra though, right? Are they going to let you on set?" He continues to fire questions at me.

"No, I'm just going to be like an assistant for the rest of the day," I explain to him just as the door beside Zachary's opens and Hudson pops his head out of his own dressing room. As if this situation wasn't uncomfortable enough.

"Hey, I thought I heard you out here. What's up?" He asks, glancing between me and Zachary.

"Your girlfriend got punched," Zachary informs Hudson before he turns to walk down the hallway, disappearing around the corner to leave me alone with Hudson. Because that'll really make this situation better.

"What happened?" Hudson asks me once he takes a look at my face. Maybe the cut is starting to bruise or something.

"Nothing," I choke on the word, trying my best to keep my shaking sobs inside of me until I can at least get to the restroom to cry in private. And I definitely don't want to start crying again in front of Hudson Gray but every time that I inhale a breath, it's becoming harder and harder not to cry.

"Hey, if somebody hurt you then we can call the police," He suggests quickly, catching me before I can walk away. My hands are shaking so much now that when I let my arms drop to my sides, my fingers give out and I drop the ice pack to the ground.

"No," I whisper because if I actually use my voice, I'm convinced that I'll fall apart. All I can think about is Kurt thrashing around angrily and terrified there at that facility and he looked so miserable. He spent my entire life protecting me, looking out for me like the big brother that he is. But then this happened and I can't do anything to return the favor. The only thing that even remotely helps him is this, me working here so that he can continue to take the good meds. It doesn't take away his pain though. I can't punch schizophrenia in the face like Kurt punched my creepy middle school bully. I can't fix this with a carton of ice cream like he fixed my broken hearted adolescence.

Hudson is quick to pick up the ice pack by my feet and when I don't stretch my hand out to take it from him, he decides to just ice my eye by himself. He steps a little bit closer to me and presses the towel-covered ice pack to my face, on the cut. I flinch away from the instant pain and he pauses but keeps the ice there, numbing the entire right side of my face.

"Whenever I'm dealing with some sort of dramatic event like this," Hudson starts to speak when I start to cry. I can't hold it in anymore. "It's in a movie. There's a script, telling me what to say and what to do. I don't know what to do here, you have to give me a script. Tell me how I can help."

"I don't need your help," I sniffle but to contradict what I'm saying, I don't grab the ice pack from him, I just stand there in the hallway against the wall and I stay still he continues to press the ice to my cheek. "I appreciate it, but I'm okay."

"I think that what you need is to just get away for a little while, you know?" He offers me as he uses the ice pack's towel to dry my eyes. It's a gentle gesture and I can't say that it isn't comforting but it doesn't even begin to make me feel better about my situation. "Just take a break from set and get some time for yourself."

"I don't have the money to do that," I mumble at him. "And I don't have a script either because life really isn't that easy but I'm trying, I'm just working as I go and I'm figuring it out but I don't need help. Thanks but no thanks."

I then take my ice pack back and he drops his hand from my face, he even takes a step away from me. "Iris, if you're in danger,-"

"Hudson, you're needed in costume," A crew member turns the corner and interrupts what he was about to say.

He turns to look at the crew member and says, "Yeah, okay, I'm coming," And then he turns back to me, still looking charmingly concerned.

"I'm fine, super star," I respond quietly as I start to walk down the hallway, keeping the ice on my face to keep me as numb as possible. "Just a rough day."

I completely turn around so that Hudson isn't in my line of vision anymore and I'm walking toward the bathroom that's connected to the extras lounge. After getting myself cleaned up again, I go into the lounge where a lot of the extras are hanging out, enjoying the last half of their lunch breaks. I don't see Marina anywhere so she must still be out at lunch.

As I'm sitting there, trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Hudson Gray and why he's taken such an interest in me, I'm trying to force myself into a distraction by playing a game on my phone. It's hard with only one hand because I still have to hold the ice to my face, but it does seem to distract me just for a little while.

"Iris?" Somebody questions my name, catching my attention. I look up and see a lady standing in front of me with a bright smile on her face. "Hi, my name is Nicole. I'm one of Mr. Gray's assistants."

Oh, God.

"Hi," I respond politely, not really wanting to know why she's standing in front of me.

"He wanted me to come check up on you since he's busy getting ready for the scene," She explains, tapping her pen on the corner of her clipboard. "Can I get you water or anything?"

I shake my head at her. "No thank you."

"Are you sure there's nothing that I can do?" She urges me, hooking her pen to her clipboard so that she can blip her black-ish hair behind her shoulders. "He seems very worried about you."

"I appreciate his concern but I'm fine," I assure her, feeling completely humiliated at what happened a little bit ago in the hallway. I shouldn't have cried like that in front of him, I shouldn't have let him hold my ice pack. I should have just walked away from him. This is ridiculous. Now he's giving me a babysitter? I don't even know this guy.

"Okay, well here's my card. Just give me a call if you need anything, alright?" She offers me a small business card and I take it from her outstretched hand.

"Thanks," I sigh, pocketing the card and reminding myself that this Nicole girl is just doing her job so I should be nice to her, which I am, but with how annoyed at Hudson I am right now, it's almost hard to sound pleasant to anybody.

She smiles at me again before picking up her pen from the clipboard and briskly walking away to continue on with her duties as one of Hudson's assistants. I noticed that she used the plural so I'm kind of wondering just how many assistants one person really needs.

Feeling irritated with the world, I know that I can't get mad at Kurt for what happened and I can't get even more mad at myself so I'm directing my irritation at Hudson. Because he's so easy to be irritated at. I appreciated how nice and gentle he was in the hallway even though I don't appreciate getting so close to people at work, but sticking me with a babysitter? That's too much.

Finding a pen in my bag, I pull out the business card again and I write a quick note on the back of it before I get up from the couch that I'm sitting on and go on my way to find Hudson, who is probably still in wardrobe. The door to the costume room is open and I see Hudson standing on a platform as a seamstress or a tailor or whatever those people are called is poking a needle into his pants near the ankle.

"Hey, you can come in," Hudson sees me standing by the door. "What's up?"

"You said that you needed a script," I remind him, not walking any farther into the room. I just leave the business card face up on the table by the door so that my note is down and he'll have to pick it up to read it. He can't reach it from where he is on the platform though, which means that I can get away before he reads it. "So I made one for you."

Before he can respond, I toss my melted ice pack into the trash can by the door and then I'm walking back out of the door and then out toward where the crew is preparing the scene so that I can maybe help them out or something. Acting as an assistant like the director said that I should so that I can still get paid for the rest of the day.

Even as I'm walking away, I can't help but wonder what Hudson's reaction will be to the note:

Hudson Gray: (Leaves Iris alone) This is how things are supposed to be.