My eyes feel like I have sand in them. They are dry and painful, with no more tears to cry.

I try to find a comfortable position on the world's worst mattress as my brother paces back and forth across the room. Aaron's shoulders are tense, and he occasionally brings his thumb to his mouth to chew on its nail.

Guilt consumes me as I watch my brother in such torment. Because of me, he's called out of work and missing time with his family.

As soon as my desperate request for help left my lips, Aaron scooped me up in his arms and carried me to his car. He didn't say anything, just continued to hold my hand as we drove. His comforting touch helped me relax, and I fell asleep, only to be woken by the sounds of sirens.

He took me to the hospital.

I honestly thought I would be given a Xanax to calm down and then sent on my merry way to figure out my problems.

That is not the case.

It's been three hours, and I'm stuck in a small room with my brother in absolute distress while we wait for a social worker.

I shift my weight and stare at the wall, desperate to find some way to pass the time.

The air is thick with tension, and the silence surrounding me slowly pulls me deeper into my pit of despair. It feels as if the clock has stopped ticking, and all I can think about is how I got into this headspace.

The change started small, casually growing until it consumed me. Everything I loved about life diminished, and I am now left as a hollow shell of my past self. Even with the ultra-white light coming from the fluorescent light bulbs, all I see is darkness.

A soft knock on the door pulls my attention from the wall, and I notice a woman peeking into the room.

Her warm, honey eyes scan the room until they land on me. "Judy?"

Unable to speak, I nod my head.

Aaron makes himself impossibly small and lays next to me on a tiny sliver of bed. He puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me close. As soon as he kisses my head, It's like a dam broke open, and tears again fall down my cheeks.

I have had such horrible thoughts, and I am undeserving of his love. The idea of pushing him away crosses my mind, but I can't bring myself to do it. As I always have, I feel safe near my brother. Plus, I like having him here to help make sure my violent visions never become a reality.

The door clicks closed, and the woman quietly walks over to the open chair beside my bed. Sitting down, she places a notebook on her lap and folds her hands together near her knees. With a deep breath, her shoulders fall, and she looks at me like she wants to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.

It won't, but whatever.

I must look like a scared kitten as I inch closer to Aaron.

When the woman opens her mouth, she says, "My name is Anisha, and I'm here to talk and figure out the best way to help you."

Her words come out soft, but I can't help but flinch when she mentions talking. If I weren't such a freak, I would find it amusing that one would think it was a good idea to hear about the images that keep me up at night. However, all I can think about is that if I open up, she might send me to prison and lock me up to keep everyone around me safe.

The hand that Aaron has wrapped around me begins to rub up and down my arm and

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk. Can't you guys just give me something to help?"

Anisha tucks a piece of her raven-colored hair behind her ear and sighs. "I'm sorry, Judy, that's not how it works."

Her words hit me hard, and my heart pounds in my chest. "Why not?"

"What kind of hospital would we be if we just handed out drugs to whoever asked for them?" She asks with a raised brow.

I kick off the white sheet covering my feet and attempt to remove myself from Aaron's tight hold. My movements only cause my brother's grip to tighten.

"Don't patronize me!" I yell, but anyone with a set of ears could hear the tremble in my voice. "I will not be talked down to because I had a moment of weakness! I'm fine, and I want to go home."

Aaron's whole body deflates like an old balloon, "You're not fine." When I look at my brother, a single tear falls down his cheek. My heart clenches, knowing I'm the reason it's there. "You haven't been fine for a long time.

The breath is knocked out of me as a loud sob erupts from my chest. Deep down, I know Aaron is right, but I also know I will lose my brother if my secrets come out.

"I'm..." My hand snaps to my chest, and I rub violently at my chest, desperate for oxygen to make its way back to my lungs. "I'm fine."

"Judy, I'm truly sorry if my words made you feel like I was speaking down to you." When my eyes notice the warmth behind Anisha's gaze, I can't help but shift from side to side. "I think the three of us can agree that you are not doing too well."

"I'm fine."

"Are you, though?" Anisha challenges.

All I want to do is run. I don't know where I'd go, but anywhere would be better than sitting in this god-awful bed.

Maybe in a ditch somewhere?

My eyes close, and my face scrunches as I cringe. I shake my head until the image of me dying is erased and moved to the back of my mind. It's gone for now, but the ugly vision will reappear when I least expect it.

Aaron's voice cuts through the silence. "She does that a lot."

I can't even say anything because I know it's true. I either try to physically remove the icky feeling or take a hot shower; those are the only things that help. My cuticles suddenly look fascinating. I begin to pick at them to help avoid Aaron and Anisha's judgment.

As if she knows I'm on the verge of crawling out of my skin, Anisha softly asks, "Would it be okay if I talk to Aaron and he answers some questions for me?"

All I can do is nod.

Anisha asks questions ranging from when Aaron started noticing a difference in my personality to what I ate for breakfast. I watch as she writes down some things in her notebook, probably about how, even at eighteen, I need my big brother to talk for me.

Useless, absolutely useless. Just die already.

Each and every muscle in my body becomes tense as I fight to breathe. Warmth slowly spreads through my veins, and my heart pounds erratically against my ribs. My stupid clothes feel tight as they stick to my sweaty skin, and I begin to claw at the fabric.

My breath comes out in short spurts, and my vision starts to blur. It's only when I hear Aaron call my name that I realize my frantic state. He cups my cheeks and uses his thumbs to brush away my falling tears. "Focus on me, Juju Bee. Take a deep breath for me."

Aaron's gaze captures mine, and I try to concentrate on the love my brother is trying to give me. He purses his lips and blows out slowly, and I try my hardest to follow his lead. My body continues to shake, but each breath gets easier and easier.

When my breathing steadies, Aaron wraps me in his arms and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Please, Juju. Please tell us what's going on in that beautiful head of yours."

A lifeless, tortured chuckle falls from my lips. The things in my head are anything but beautiful.

"Please," Aaron begs.

I try to fight the demons begging to break free and finally show the world how fucked up my brain truly is. Once I feel in control, I whisper, "I can't."

"Can you just answer something for me, Judy?" I don't even get a chance to answer Anisha before she looks at me and says, "Do you want to continue living like this? I see your pain and fear. I want to help you, but you need to want to help yourself first."

I genuinely feel beyond repair.

"I... I can't talk about it. I don't deserve help. I'm a horrible person." My voice trembles, and the words are weak.

Apparently no longer interested in writing about my messed-up state, Anisha puts her book to the side. She turns her shoulders until she directly looks at me and gives me her undivided attention. All I can do is sink myself further into Aaron's arms. "You, Judy, are not a horrible person."

"I'm not a horrible person, just a person with horrible thoughts." The words flew out before my brain even had a chance to register what was happening. I quickly remove myself from my brother and stand from my seated position. My hands find their way to my hair, and I begin to pull at the roots as if it will magically make me feel in control of my spiraling, out of control life.

"Shit." The word comes out over and over again as I pace the small room.

I need to decide right now if I want help and lose the only family I have left or continue to live in hell.

I don't know which is worse.