I unfurled my eyelids for a mere five seconds, letting my pupils roam the bare atmosphere before closing them again, allowing my ears to absorb the routined sorority of the clock. The perpetual smell of disinfectant wafts into my nose as I heave a sigh, the bitter scent served as a reminder of the needle buried inside my vein, pumping in drugs and draining out the energy from my system.

Once in a while, a women would crack open the door and leave behind a tray of food, a glass of water, maybe a pill to furthermore cripple my brain. I'd sit by and observe as she shuffled across the floor, her hands shaking a little as she let the tray clatter against my nightstand. I've come to notice how her eyes would dart my direction every couple of seconds, as if she were anticipating the moment I could tear off my confinements and lunge at her. The reluctance slowing her movements makes me wonder, does she think Schizoaffective is contagious or something?

Because of the constant placidity of my surroundings, my attention was easily piqued every time a conversation sparked beyond the barrier of my room, if I was lucky enough, the being outside my door would stay and recite a story to a child or adult. The occasional bit of noise is enough to distract me from the mundane routine that'd taken over my life.

Waking, waiting, staring, enduring, falling back asleep, and repeating that process day after day.

It's strange though, how I lacked the desire to escape this sensation, because after eleven years of complete isolation, I quickly became acquainted to this silence, as well as the darkness that accompanied it. They're my closest companions, besides my hallucinations of course.

*******

I found myself carving circles into the sheets the following morning, listening to a man stationed outside my door as he recalled a story about a little girl, (someone named Jess), whom he looked after. They'd gone out to fly kites at a park nearby, when the weather turned and it started to pour.

Retreating to the inner depths of my brain, I attempted to sketch out the scene and found myself on the sidelines, watching as a little girl scampers through the slick grass, her pasty skin speckled with raindrops, and her short brown hair clinging to her dimpled cheeks. She harbored a kite in the crook of her left elbow and a man's coiled hand in the other. The stranger had a fairly muscular build that clashed with Jess's scrawny figure. His rough calloused fingers looked out of place grappling the crook of her elbow, I feared he could snap her bones if he wasn't careful.

They burst into giggles as she tears through a puddle, the man halts his sprint to keep her from stumbling on the verdure before resuming their hasty pace. His patience seems to spark a light in Jess's eyes, one that softens her exhilarated expression. It's reassuring when the man glances over his shoulder in time to catch the grin she gave him. There's a sense of gratefulness and trust in the way that they exchange smiles, but I have to wonder how they can be in such high spirits with the chill gnawing through their clothes.

There's a light glistening in Jess's eyes by the time they take shelter. Once they vanish, I crane my neck towards the sky and part my lips, letting the dense liquid pelt against tongue. It sinks into my tastebuds, but gives off no particular flavor as it evaporates near the base of my throat.

I take a moment to surface from the image, aching to hear what happens next. But I find that the man's voice has long diminished, in fact, it was unlikely he ever stopped long enough to talk about Jess, the rain, or how long they took shelter at that supermarket. I probably just hallucinated the whole thing.

A shadow comes to life, suddenly, from the murk pooling beneath the desk in the corner. It shrivels as limbs burst from it's maggot-like torso and vacant sockets are carved into its head, sculpting together an agonized beast. I grin and greet it with a small wave,

"Come back already? Is mama not coming today? Is she alright? Have I been taking too many of their pills again?" Ignoring my questions, the creature skulks across the glossy walls and stops next to my ear, hissing and whimpering incoherently, but I'm in no mood to listen to him today.

So I scramble back to the scene I crafted inside my brain, desperately snatching at the pieces that've bursts asunder and piecing them back together. I find myself rooted next to a maple tree beneath the blotchy sky again, my clothes transparent from the raindrops ceaselessly striking against the threads. A vehicle comes by, agitating a puddle and harnessing a wave that lashes at my ankles, but I pay it no mind. Instead, I close my eyes, open my mouth, and try to imagine what rain must taste like.

******

I'm jolted awake yet again by the tremble of the sliding door. There's a dark silhouette braced against the archway, it's arms woven over its chest and it's head bent at a pensive angle. The light from the hallway seemed to curl around its frame when it turned to face me, it's slate gaze sharpening as the argent glare settled in its pupils. The stranger strolled across the room in a leisurely manner, scanning over my body as if I were a lab rat.

"You haven't taken your pill yet." He remarked, eyeing the glass of liquid situated on my nightstand. I stare at him, my mouth agape as he reached out and brushed his fingertips against my black bangs. Goosebumps sprout across my forehead from the bleak contact, it was astonishing how his skin didn't shrivel and wither when he touched me like my mom's did. He was strong, stable, and solid, quite unlike any other hallucination I've ever had.

"Are you a hallucination?" I asked, rather inanely. He chuckled, swiftly unstrapping my limbs from the sheets.

"No." He tugged me up from my bed, not revealing the tiniest bit of dread as he pressed the pearly white pill to my lips. I could feel his hand leeching to the back of my head as I tried to squirm away, not that it did much to stop my writhing. I hoist myself farther away from the edge of the bed and plant my feet against his hips, my hands wrangled his wrist and shoulders, launching him back a few inches and catching him by surprise. His smile doesn't waver, but I can tell from the crease in his forehead that I'm wearing at his patience.

He suddenly curls his fingers, cinching my hair and delving his nails into my roots, successfully stilling my limbs. The brief pain puncturing my scalp hits me with the startling realization that he truly isn't just an image, he's a human being crafted from bones and flesh, completely capable of hurting me. The boy loosens his hold on my scalp when he realizes I'm trembling.

"Sorry bout' that. I got carried away." He mumbles.

I hesitated a moment, before closing my lips around the drug and grinding it with my teeth just as the boy offered me the glass of water. He quirks an eyebrow at my stubborn game before returning the glass to its stand and switching on the lamp. The room floods with a mellow light that illuminates his pale skin, showcasing the array of freckles he has speckled across scrawny limbs; they formed an arbitrary design that reminded me of the constellations on the book mama brought when she stopped by. Ironically however, he doesn't have a single dot on his face, just a close-lipped smile that stretched from ear to ear and those two slate eyes shrouded with jet black bangs.

"Then what are you?" I swallowed the the pasty substance. The boy's smile brightened at my curiosity.

"I'm Nirvana, I'll be your clinical psychologist from now on."

_________

fluffy-kitten-101 Please help me edit this.