For the first time in five months, I woke up in the morning with a clear head—I didn’t feel foggy, I didn’t feel numb, I didn’t feel like my own body was weighing me down. I felt light and strangely motivated—I haven’t felt this alive in months.

I had a couple of problems with this, though: I knew that I only felt like this because of Bree, which scared me; I knew I shouldn’t be reliant on her, but she was the only thing in my life that made life feel livable. Also, I felt guilty feeling like this; Mike was still dead, and I didn’t deserve to live while I knew that he physically couldn’t. But I also wanted to get better—I didn’t want to let down Bree. It was just hard for me to move on from the fact that I’ve already let down my younger brother, and there was nothing I could do to change that.

I sighed, and instead of sliding out of bed apathetically like most mornings, I jumped out of bed, stretching my limbs. I had this sudden desire to go outside and enjoy fresh air, a light breeze, and nature in general. I hoped that Bree would be here soon so I could do that—we weren’t allowed to go in the courtyard unsupervised, and, of course, I would rather enjoy the weather with her than anyone else.

I slipped on some fresh clothes and walked to the cafeteria for breakfast. I typically hated breakfast—I didn’t like being surrounded by people—but I was indifferent this morning. I routinely got some Cereal and sat by myself in a corner, frowning when I looked out of the big window on the far wall. The sky was nearly black, and heavy sheets of rain fell dangerously. The trees in the courtyard swayed almost violently, and I saw a few strikes of lightning. Loud claps of thunder shook the building, and I shivered.

Of coursemy mood didn’t match the weather—that was a perfect illustration of how off balance I still was.

“Hey,” I heard an unfamiliar voice greet me. I looked up curiously, seeing a tan kid with a few tattoos. He looked to be about my age.

“Hi,” I said.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” he asked shyly.

“Go ahead,” I allowed just as shyly, confused as to why someone was actually talking to me. Everything about today was weird—but I liked it.

The guy sat down across from me. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Vic,” I said. “What’s yours?” I asked.

“Tony,” he said quietly.

“Hi, Tony,” I smiled softly. Tony, so far, seemed a lot like me—his quiet demeanor, his shaking hands, his bowed head.

“Are you new?” I blurted, impressed with myself for trying to converse with a stranger. Bree would be proud of me.

“Yes,” Tony said. I wanted to ask what his problem was, but I felt like it would be rude. He’d tell me if he wanted me to know.

“Have you been here long?” he asked.

I bit my lip. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Kinda,” I added.

“They said that I would only need to be here for a few days,” Tony said.

“That’s good,” I said genuinely. He was lucky—he must not have a complex problem like me. I stared at Tony, studying his features and wondering what he could possibly be in here for. I assumed depression—that was common, here, and he spoke lowly and with his head down, and he hasn’t smiled a single time of sitting here. I also noticed white bandages wrapped tightly around his wrists…

“Oh,” I accidentally said out loud. I blushed in shame, but Tony just shrugged his shoulders. He put his hands in his lap, though.

“It’s alright. We all have problems, clearly,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I tried to kill myself,” he said bluntly.

“Oh,” I repeated. “I have mild schizophrenia and depression,” I said. It was a weird conversation—the way we introduced ourselves with our conditions. I frowned, realizing that the way we revealed our illnesses made it seem like our problems defined us. I didn’t want my psychotic tendencies to define me. Sure, they broke me, but I was still an actual person, with an actual personality. Yeah, maybe my personality was hidden a little by mental ailments, but I was still in there somewhere. My schizophrenia and depression weren’t me; they were my problems, but I was Vic.

“Nice,” Tony said. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment, though, and at the fact that we were speaking about such arguably serious things in such a light manner.

“So, what do you like to do, Tony?” I asked, wanting to talk about something other than the reason why we are in this place.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I used to play the guitar,” he said.

“Used to?”

“I haven’t been in the mood to play lately,” he said lowly, his eyes darting to his wrists. I nodded, understanding. Depression was a bitch; it weighed you down until you couldn’t even bring yourself to do the things that once made you so happy.

“I like to play guitar, too,” I smiled at our common interest. Something sparked in his eyes for a moment—it looked a little bit like happiness. “What else do you like?”

“Turtles are my favorite animal,” he offered.

“That’s cool,” I commented.

Tony nodded. “What do you like to do besides play guitar?” he asked, and I was glad he kept the conversation going. There was nothing worse than having a conversation with yourself—I would know.

“I like to sing and write. And I like to draw,” I said.

“Do you write lyrics?” he asked. I nodded. “Maybe you can show me some of your drawings some time,” he suggested, and I smiled at the offer. It seemed like he just needed distractions, and I was glad to help him out. It made me forget about my own problems for a little while.

“Yeah, totally,” I agreed.

We were quiet for a few minutes, but the seconds that passed weren’t awkward or uncomfortable. “Do you mind if I ask you how long you’ve been here?” Tony asked, looking nervous.

“It’s okay. I’ve been here for around five months now,” I said.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “That’s not a bad thing, y’know,” he added. I was glad he said that—I was afraid that he was going to judge me for being in here for so long,

“Yeah, I know,” I said with a weak smile. “And the staff here is very helpful and caring, as long as you are open and willing to be helped,” I told him, thinking about how in the first few months, I was closed off, shut down, and not wanting to be helped. That was half of the reason why I have been here for so long, but the second I started to let the staff in—specifically Bree—I was already feeling better. I still had problems—the events of Mikey’s death rewiring my brain permanently—but I could overcome them as soon as I accepted the help of others and the fact that I had to be on medication for the rest of my life. For the first time in my entire life, I felt hope grow a seed deep in my soul. Maybe one day the stem would grow and the pedals would bloom and flowers would blossom—filling up the currently vacant space inside of my chest with something positive.

I smiled to myself, happy for thinking these happy thoughts. If I kept this up, maybe I actually could move on with my life…

“Vic?” I shook my head, realizing that I had zoned out.

“Oh, uh, sorry, what did you say?” I asked Tony, feeling bad for spacing out on him. I probably looked crazy to him.

“I was just saying thanks for letting me sit here. Hopefully I’ll see you later; I have a session soon,” he said.

I nodded. “Yeah, of course, man. See you around,” I smiled as he got up and left. I sat there by myself for a few more minutes, letting my mind wander. My thoughts were interrupted when a deafening clap of thunder exploded in the sky. I shook a little—I have never been good in storms.

My mood deflated a little as the storm raged on, and I realized that I didn’t like being so alone anymore. Something changed inside of me—maybe it was the new medication, maybe it was actually talking to someone by choice for once—but I no longer desired loneliness.

I looked at a clock, seeing that I had a meeting with Bree soon. I was glad that she had scheduled a morning meeting for today; I would not have wanted to have to wait until the afternoon to see her. I took my time walking to the meeting room, though, for I had a little bit of time.

My slow walking didn’t last long, though—as I walked, I passed a young girl in the hallway, trashing her arms and legs and punching and kicking and shrieking while staff members constrained her. I shivered, walking faster before a triggering mood sunk into my mind.

The door was closed, which confused me because normally her door was wide open and inviting. I knocked timidly, but, even after a few minutes of waiting, there was no answer.

“Bree?” I asked through the door. There was no answer.

I knew it was wrong, but I did it anyway; I turned the knob of the door, slowly pushing the door forward. “Bree?” I whisper yelled, wondering where she was. Well, she definitely wasn’t in here—the room was small and square with no other doors inside, so there was no place where she could be hidden (not that she would feel the need to hide, but still). “Bree?” I asked one more time, but there was absolutely no one in there. The light wasn’t even on. I sighed, confused.

I closed the door and walked to Dr. Crowly’s office.

“Oh, hi, Vic,” she greeted me.

“Hi. I’m supposed to meet with Bree now, but I don’t think she’s in,” I said quietly.

“Oh?” Dr. Crowly looked up in confusion. “She’s not in the temp office?” I shook my head. “Alright, I’ll check the front desk and see if she signed in this morning,” she said, frowning.

“Okay,” I said quietly.

“You can come along, if you’d like,” she said. I nodded and shuffled down the hallway with her as thunder continued to roar.

“That’s odd,” she mumbled. I looked up at her wondering. “She did not sign in, yet,” she told me.

“Oh.”

“Well,” she looked down at her wristwatch, “it’s still early. She might be in traffic due to the storm. I’ll find you when she arrives, okay?” she said.

I nodded. She sounded pretty confident that Bree was on her way, so I didn’t worry. Now, though, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to be alone in the storm, but I definitely did not want to accompany myself with Dr. Crowly.

I decided to go for a walk down my ward. I passed my room—noticing that my door was labeled with my name. As I continued to walk, I realized that every door had at least one patient’s name labeled on it—I have never noticed this before. It felt nice being aware of my surroundings, for once. I couldn’t wait to tell Bree about how good I felt already on this new medication; it really seemed to be working.

The hallway ended with a heavy duty looking door—the kind of door that would set a huge alarm off if it were opened without authorization. I stared out the thick, glass window, gazing at the violent weather. The image was peculiar; my reflection was faded in the window, making it look like I was in the storm. It almost looked like the storm was me. A massive flash of lightning struck down in the distance, followed by a loud crack of thunder, and I backed away from the window fearfully.

I turned on my heels, deciding that I might go to the common room and surround myself with people. I have only been in there once before, but I didn’t like it because that was when I didn’t want to affiliate with other people. I was eighteen when my parents forced me to come here, and that classified me as an adult. I was nineteen, now, but I still was younger than most of the other patients—I wondered how different my recovery would be if I was in a teen ward, not an adult one.

As I turned, I spotted someone familiar.

“Hi, Vic,” Tony said.

“Oh, hey,” I said. “How did your session go?” I asked.

“Pretty good. I’m headed back to my room, now,” he said. I noticed that there was a nurse following him, and I raised my eyebrow at him. “They don’t trust me to be by myself,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. I nodded.

“Want to hang out? Can you do that here?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, sure. I was actually looking for some company,” I said quietly. I looked at the nurse for permission, and she nodded.

Tony’s room was very similar to mine—it had a bed on the far side, a desk and chair, and a dresser. It appeared that he didn’t have a roommate, either.

Tony sat down on his bed and I sat in the chair—when it appeared like Tony was settled, the nurse left.

“You’re lucky,” Tony mumbled.

“How so?” I asked, unsure as to how my situation was lucky at all.

“You seem to have a lot more freedom here. I’ve been here barely a day and they all breathe down my neck, when sometimes I just want to be alone,” he said almost sadly.

“Well, I’ve been here for a long time. I’m still messed up in here,” I twirled my hand around my head, “but I’m no longer a danger to myself or others,” I explained. “I guess they trust me. Sometimes it’s sad, though. Everyone here is so nice and they want to help you, which is why they are following you around. I’m kind of a loss cause,” I said. “Sometimes it sucks to be alone; I feel like nobody really cares,” I added sullenly, the reality of my situation suddenly dawning on me—Yeah, maybe today was a better day, but I still had the ability to think negatively.

“You seem like you are doing okay, though,” Tony said. “As an outsider, at least,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Recently, I guess,” I allowed. “Today is actually the first day in a long time where I feel really good, like there’s hope,” I said, smiling to myself.

“I’m happy for you,” Tony smiled weakly. “I don’t know anything about your illness, but I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to cope with it,” he said. “You must be very strong,” he added. At his words, I resisted the urge to jump up and engulf him in a big man hug—it was nice to hear his kindness and support.

We were quiet for a moment, until I noticed Tony picking at his bandages. “Hey, don’t do that,” I said softly.

“I can’t go a day without it,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m weak,” he said.

“Tony, did you check into this place voluntarily? Or were you forced?” I asked. Tony looked at me questioningly, as if he didn’t understand the relevance of my question.

“I, uh, checked myself in. I had been on depression meds, which was why the doctor’s didn’t commit me here after I tried to, y’know, but a few days later I realized that I needed more help than my medication was giving me,” he explained.

“Exactly. So you recognized your problem, which makes you stronger than anyone I have ever met,” I said. Tony smiled, and that made me feel proud—knowing that I made him feel that way.

“They first day or so will be hard, but you’ll break that habit,” I encouraged him. “I broke the habit,” I said, gently tracing my right hand over the scars on my left hand.

“So it’s possible,” Tony said dreamily.

“Yes, it’s possible,” I smiled at the hope that I had given Tony. I wished that I could talk to someone about my problems—I wished that I could talk to someone with schizophrenia like me who could tell me that living a normal life again was possible. Bree told me it was, but how did she know for sure?

“So, what about you?” Tony asked. I tilted my head to the side, not sure what he meant. “How did you end up here?” he clarified after he saw my expression.

“Oh,” I said quietly. “My parents…” I trailed off, really not wanting to take this trip down memory lane.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Tony said. I gulped and nodded appreciatively.

“You’re the lucky one! Since you came here by your own choice you got to pack what you wanted to bring,” I nodded over to his dresser with a toothy grin.

“And you didn’t?”

I shook my head. “Nope,” I said, popping the ‘p’ sound. “My parents stuffed random shit in a suitcase and practically dragged me here by my ear,” I said, half-bitterly and half-lightheartedly.

“And they made me take out my nose ring,” I frowned, touching the side of my nose where a silver hoop used to shine.

“That sucks,” Tony said. “They took away my iPod and wallet and stuff when I arrived, but I got it all back this morning,” he said happily.

“Oh my God,” my jaw dropped.

“What? What?” Tony asked, looking around.

“They let you keep your iPod and wallet?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes… after they made sure I didn’t try to smuggle anything dangerous in, they let me. Didn’t they let you?”

“No! When my parents took my here I literally had nothing with me except a fresh journal! My parents said I wasn’t allowed to bring anything electronic, and that my wallet would be of no use,” I said with a frown, the memory of my departure from my house invading my mind, coated with bitterness.

“That sucks, man! Maybe you can tell them next time they visit you to bring you your iPod and stuff,” he suggested. My chest tightened up at his words, and I couldn’t help it when my eyes watered. “Vic? Do they… they don’t…” his eyebrows knitted and I shook my head.

“They haven’t visited me once,” I said, looking down at my feet.

“Oh, shit, man, I’m sorry,” he said softly, frowning.

“S’okay. They were shit parents, anyway,” I said quietly. Tony was quiet for a moment.

“Hey, Vic?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you like to listen to my iPod with me?” he asked with a smile.

“I’d love to,” I said enthusiastically, nearly jumping up out of the chair. Tony chuckled and walked to his desk, pulling out his iPod. My insides sizzled at the mere thought of listening to music again—it’s been so long.

We each put one earphone in, and Tony let me surf through his music. I grinned like a moron when I saw that we had the same music taste. I put on Sum 41’s “In Too Deep”, feeling pure bliss the second the notes started flowing.

“You must have missed music,” Tony said when the song ended—me facial expression was probably very easy to read.

I sighed. “Yes. It helps so much,” I smiled, imagining if my time here would be any different if I had the luxury of plugging headphones in. The common room had a radio, but it wasn’t the same effect as isolating yourself and zoning out as music directly washes through your veins. “I’m going to be using you for your music, now,” I winked jokingly, and he laughed.

We sat there for a few minutes in peaceful silence, enjoying more music. “Where are you from?” Tony asked suddenly.

“San Diego,” I said. “You?”

“No way!” Tony exclaimed. “So am I!”

“Ah, sweet. We didn’t go to the same school, I don’t think,” I said, and he nodded in agreement—we probably would have been friends if we went to the same school. Fuck, things would be so different now if I had known him before.

“Hey, uh…” Tony began, but he trailed off.

“What is it?”

“Never mind, actually,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Okay,” I said, curious as to what he wanted to say, but not going to press.

“I have another session, soon,” Tony said.

“Oh, okay,” I replied. They really were making it a point to help Tony out with multiple sessions a day—I was happy for him, but I also felt a tinge of jealousy; maybe it was partly my fault for not wanting help in the beginning, but I don't remember anyone being so urgent to help me. I guess I was just so angry and difficult back then…

“Who’s your assigned psychiatrist?” I asked, even though I probably didn’t know him or her. I wanted to see, though, if he had a student psychiatrist, like me.

“Rob Carrera from UCLA,” he said. “It’s cool because he used to have the same problems as me, which is why he is interested in this field. I find that really encouraging,” Tony said.

“Oh, nice,” I said. My mind wandered back to Bree—I wondered what inspired her to study psychology. I also wondered where she was…

“What about you?”

“I started out with Dr. Crowly. They didn’t want me with a student, at first, because of my illness. She’s okay, I guess. But I wasn’t responding well to anything. I was difficult. I spent a lot of time sleeping, being apathetic about everything. So, last month when a new student came here for an internship, Dr. Crowly decided to switch things up for me.She decided to assign me to a different psychiatrist. Her name’s Bree Lewis,” I explained.

“That’s a pretty name,” Tony said thoughtfully, and I was glad he didn’t comment on my rough beginning.

“Yeah,” I said. “I was supposed to have a session with her earlier, but she didn’t show up,” I said sadly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Dr. Crowly said that she was probably running late because of the storm, but I’m not sure,” I said lowly.

“That’s weird,” Tony said, frowning as well.

“Tony, it’s time to go,” a nurse poked her head into Tony’s room—unlike me, he wasn’t allowed to close his door.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Thanks for talking with me, Vic. I’ll see you soon,” he said hopefully, and I smiled in return.

“Yeah, have a good session,” I said, walking out of his room with him.

“Thanks,” he said, and then we parted ways. I went straight to my room, hoping that Dr. Crowly—or, better, Bree—was waiting for me.

To my slight disappointment, Dr. Crowly was there. “Hi,” I said.

“Hello, Vic. I saw that you made a friend. I’m glad for you,” she said.

I gave her a forced smile, but not without thinking to myself: creepy.

“Um, is Bree here?” I asked Dr. Crowly. I don’t know why, but I expected her to smile and say yes.

“I’m afraid not, Vic,” she said with a frown. “I tried calling her professors, but they haven’t seen her either.”

“Is she sick?” I asked, worried.

“I’m not sure. If she is, she would have called in.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. What could this mean? Why would Bree just not show up like this?

A flash of lightning lit up the dimly lit hallway just as a flash of worry struck Dr. Crowly’s face. “I’m sorry I don’t know anything else. You have the rest of the day free,” she said, and then she walked away. Another clap of thunder rattled my bones.

My good and inspired mood quickly vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to be alone, the terrible feeling of abandonment and rejection fatally flooding the soil where my hopeful seed had been planted.

Notes

Idk I figured I'd throw Tony in there because why the hell noT
And uum Bree??