Day 37

I’m still here.

I’ve read every book. I’ve counted every tile. Still the time seems to slowly stream by like a small creek in the middle of a forest, just the same as this stupid place!

In this atrocious place my mother calls my home.

The sun filters in through the small dust covered window. I hear the agonizing screech of the wind outside, or maybe a child being fed sour medicine.

It’s getting harder to tell the difference.

Mom said she tried to make it more comfortable with the flower bed sheets and dirty white curtains. Those same curtains that whisper with the draft from the window, holes dotted across the fabric. Yet this is still a prison, meant to keep the insane from the outside world. I hate this place.

The drifting smell of foul sustenance, the sticky, hot paste it leaves in the back of your throat. The creaking sound of doors as they slide across the tile floor, the insanely annoying squeak of the medicine cart rolling by. In the room to the right of me I faintly hear the struggling of the old hag as they try to shove pills down her throat.

So many of them in here, of all ages too. From crazy, old witches to 10-year-olds ripping the stuffing from their teddy bears. They are slaughtering my mental stability, chipping away at my self-worth.

You’re doing that yourself.

To think, I’m one of them. The caregivers haven’t straightjacketed me yet, I guess that’s a good thing.

I lay on my bed, the mattress as hard as a rock, staring blankly at the ceiling. Until suddenly, a voice similar to my own softly mutters from across the room.

“Just because we’re in the middle of Montana, isolated in the forest, doesn’t mean we can’t escape this mental hospital.” She concludes. The voice is ghostly quiet, only a raspy mutter.

I spot the young girl sitting smugly on the window sill, arrogance dripping from her gaze. A long, white gown drapes from her slim body like a waterfall, revealing only her dark brown skin on her long, feeble legs.

“Prison,” I correct sternly.

The other Carina, as I like to call her, laughs hysterically.

She’s like my identical twin, exactly like me with her long olive brown hair flowing down her back and sneaking around her shoulders. Golden amber orbs staring back at me with burning intensity. The flames exactly like mine, except one thing.

She’s not real.

It’s the reason I’m in here, schizophrenia as the doctor diagnosed it. I see things, just random things, that other people don’t see. I used to see animals like butterflies and kittens, but then I had visions of people yelling at me and murmuring violent thoughts as I slept. Everything put pressure on me, anxiety becoming my friend. Voices in my head, pushing me to my limits to allow for my success.

It got worse and worse, to the point where I started screaming one day in 8th grade, during class. Three years undergoing study at a lab, then my parents sent me here as soon as the doctor affirmed I had a mental illness. He always assumed it was just me being a child, or that because it hadn’t affected my ability to think like most schizophrenic patients, that it couldn’t be considered an actual illness.

However, a little before I turned 16, the other Carina showed up. We had conversations and I would always end up believing she was there with me, a one-on-one conversation became a group of three in my head. So the doctor decided to give in. Here I am, in a prison for the mentally ill.

A loud scrape comes from the door, I turn to witness a caregiver walk in with the squeaking cart, his auburn hair fluttering in the breeze caused by the door, and bright baby blue eyes flash me a smile. The gentle sound of his voice, slightly high yet with a shy and hesitant tone.

“Carina Wilson? I’m Ren, if you wanted to know,” He chuckles nervously.

I roll my eyes, showing no interest in this obvious newbie. The other Carina chuckles from her windowsill. I hear wings flap with slight force as a small raven lands on the boy’s shoulder.

He continues. “Actually, in English my name means “raven”. Yet the Welsh definition is “ruler”. Isn’t that funny? Your name means “little darling” in Italian too!” The young boy giggles and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I like to rant a lot. Anyway, I’ve brought your medicine for the day.”

I tune him out, my hatred for this place simply growing. People trying to act normal around me just irritates me so much. I start to feel the anger flow through my veins as my blood boils with rage. I can hear the rush of the liquid in my ears, the feeling of my heart beating out of my chest, and my mind racing. So much adrenaline, it swells my brain.

I stand, ignoring the blabbering of Ren, trying not to focus on the raven’s eyes burning a hole in my forehead. I take my pill bottle from the cart and grip it tightly, my knuckles turning white. I speak in a soft, low voice.

“I don’t care who you are. I hate this place. These disgusting and acid-like pills don’t even work!”

My calm flame becomes a roaring fire. I spit my poison at the redhead.

“I HATE THIS PLACE! I’M GOING INSANE!”

A scream rips my throat and in the spur of the moment I lift the whole cart, letting pills of all sorts spill onto the floor like a flood after a dam bursts. I feel my sanity on the border, threatening to crumble beneath me.
Meanwhile, the young boy cries in fear and freezes with shock at these catastrophic events happening on his first day. His thin frame hunches in the corner, not sure what to do. However, I don’t care and keep going.

I hold it in the air as the loud screaming continues. I can’t stop it, my ears almost bleeding from the sound coming out of my lungs. I slam my eyelids down, wishing I had control of my body. Without warning, my body swings around and I release the cart, causing the metal frame to crash against the glass with an agonizing shatter. Glass explodes to every corner of the room, flung across the floor. I start to hyperventilate, the room spinning. My legs quake, I listen to the feet drumming on the hallway floor, coming ever closer to the room.

A million thoughts cloud my vision. I get dizzy and shake my head. I start wavering as my shouts become mumbles.

“Oh god, what have I done?” I cry out.

My hands shudder at incredible speed and a lump rises in my throat. Breaths become strained, I wheeze. I try to swallow the emotions as the taste of rotten bile ascends.

Realization snaps me into focus. One word forms from mist in my head as the other Carina panics. I only hear the one word she yells.

Run.
* * *

I run and run, my legs pumping with great force. Tree branches scrape the skin on my bare legs and feet, blood oozing from the cuts. They only add to the glass buried within my skin when I lurched my whole body out the broken window. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have been placed on the ground floor.

My breath is loud and heavy, the sound of leaves and branches whipping by my head and my feet thumping against the forest floor. Smells of fresh foliage fill my nostrils with a crisp, comforting scent. Sunlight beams in my eyes as I keep sprinting through the brush, focusing only on dodging trees and getting as far away from that place as I can.

Every bone in my body aches, my lungs heave and beg for air. My joints grinding as I slow my pace. I come to a stop and glance at my surroundings. Pines all around, the strong aroma spilling into the air. Pinecones around my feet, scattered across the mossy ground, it feels soft and squishy despite the sharp pine needles buried in my dark, thin skin. The white gown covering my body is torn and dirtied with all sorts of materials. Blood, dirt, and honestly, I do not want to know what the green smudges were. It stinks of mold, so I didn’t bother.

I sighed, deciding to lean against a pine tree. My head became weary, and I slid down the trunk with ease. Holding my hands up to my face, I see my palms smelling as they look, a bloody, dirt-covered mess. My knees come up to my chest and I hug them tight. I start to tremble, horrid thoughts filling and swarming my brain. Single tears become sobs of streaming salty liquid spilling out of my hazel orbs. They sting, but I keep crying.

I force my miserable sobs to quiet as I hear fluttering of bird wings, gentle wind, and the creak of the old wood pines. I shiver in the breeze, the long sleeves of the gown too thin to keep me warm in the Montana fall. My paranoid thoughts creep up slowly, and melt into my brain. My anxiety levels gradually increase and I start looking around, feeling like a piece of me is missing.

What have you done?

You stupid girl, you should’ve shut your mouth and kept quiet!

There’s no reason for you to live anymore, why are you still here?

I try to tell them to stop, but the phrases infest my brain like a swarm of insects after a pile of dead meat. I can’t take it, my mind is being torn apart, my paper heart ripped to shreds.

“SHUT UP ALREADY!” I shout. My outburst startles some animals, a flock of birds fly away in a giant mess of feathers, a deer gallops away, and a squirrel perks its head up at me, then scurries away into the deep forest with a rustle of underbrush.

It hits me hard, the piece of my life that’s missing.

The other Carina.

Frantically, I turn my head from left to right, searching for my only real company.

No, I think, She was a friend.

I sob even more, without her, I don’t have a filter for my anger, my despair, my dreadful agony. The paranoia will get to me, transform me into one of them. Those lunatics, I really don’t want to be some crazy teenage girl lost in the middle of the woods, blabbering to herself about aliens or some crazy hallucination.

Abruptly, I realize something of great importance. I need food, water, and shelter if I want to live. I need to get to a town. I desperately have to get help, but not in another psycho ward. I won’t be able to live like that again, I don’t want to be treated like an animal, trapped in a concrete cage crawling with nastier creatures than myself.

A small headache forms in the back of my head. I gently feel the trunk of the tree behind me and grip the bark. It feels rough on my soft hands. I use it to lift my body up, then, still holding the tree I rest my back against it while letting out a heavy sigh. Knees bent at awkward angles, tattered fabric drifting in the frigid air. My whole body throbs in pain. This is why I don’t go off my meds. That, and the fact that I would lose my humanity and join the group of phycos straightjacketed and tossed aside into a padded room.

Lifting my foot, I stretch my leg out and hear a slight pop. I swear I’ve been locked up for a million years. For my body, that is way too long. A couple paces, I start getting dizzy. I shake it off and walk on.

If my room was on the east side of the building, and I ran straight, that means if I keep going straight I will arrive at the tiny town east of the hospital. If only it had a name, then I would have memorized exactly where it was on the map. However, this will do. East of the mental hospital is the town, village, of Jordan, Montana. It’s pretty small, but that’s fine.

I grin to myself at my memory. If I can navigate properly, I’ll be fine.

Dread washed over my face. My heart sank into my stomach, a lump forms in my throat once again. I’ve got a long way to go, and I have nothing. I start to lose hope, until it strikes me. I can run. I begin to jog at a nice, easy pace. Yet my breathing speeds up with me.

You’re so fat and out of shape.

  I grumble and hiss at the voice in my head. I try to ignore it and keep going. I am determined to survive. I run and run, picking up the pace until I’m sprinting again. I try to focus on breathing instead of the mocking, light-pitched voice taunting me from within my own thoughts.

I see the forest starting to thin out,  but up ahead is still only more trees and tough terrain. My bare feet start to feel sore, and the sharp needles made my skin burn with great intensity. I don’t care enough to stop, however. I push through the pain, if only to run away from everything.

Except, I know exactly what I’m running away from.

You’re running from us, darling.

No, it’s more than that.

I’m running from myself.

Wrong again, dear. You’re running from us, but we are you. Thoughts that aren’t your own, yet at the same time, we are you.

I stop dead in my tracks. I slightly twist my body around, searching for something. I find, standing all around me, shadows of people. They just stare at me, some even giggle. Laughter starts erupting from them all, from the deepest sound of a man’s voice to the high chatter of a young girl.

They aren’t real, they can’t be there. It’s only me, I’m the only one here.

I shake my head, and they all disappear. It’s like the eerie figures were never there.

I look up to the sky, and I see a faint peach glow against the ocean blue. I turn to stare behind me, at what must be my first sunset since being brought to the hospital. The marmalade orange melts into the fiery red, in which surrounds the giant orb of bright merigold. The warm sun sinks behind the mountain range in the distance, casting a plum shadow over the land.

“It looks just like a painting,” I compare. A smile forms on my previously grim face. A memory slithers its way into my head, of my mother and I painting together when I was young.

I described to her the things I saw, the quiet flap of the butterflies’ wings outside our window, the whisper of their bodies flying past my head, and the delicate brush of their touch on my skin. I elaborated, spilling the joy I found in the insects.

We swung with our paint brushes, the thrilling splatter of color on our canvas. It saddened me that my mother couldn’t see the beautiful creatures, they filled the sky with a wheel of color. Yellows, blues, oranges, greens, pastels and muted shades of all sorts. There was a royal purple-colored butterfly, its wings glittering in the rays of the setting sun. My eyes shimmered when I saw it, I became captivated by its immense beauty.

The memory fades, and I look back at the sun, submerged behind the landscape. The oranges still brightly shine, and I remember my little butterfly. Its image dissolving with the light, lukewarm air, sinking lower with the colorful glow.

The air around me turns cold, sodden with silence. My dark skin turns damp as the atmosphere is resorted to deep blues. I shudder, gripping my sleeves tighter. My light mood becomes dark with sleepiness. It becomes difficult to keep my eyes open, my head falling from its perch.

Instantly, the need for a place to rest crosses my mind. I face east once again, and spot a clear area that’s free of pine needles. Placed snugly up to the trunk of a tree, I make advantage of it. I collect branches scattered around the proximity, and build makeshift walls around my mossy ground.

Good enough, I think to myself.

That’s all you ever are.

I shut out the remark and close my eyelids, hoping for a wink of sleep.

    *  *  *

I wake to the sound of birds softly singing a song of sorrow. My back aches and my neck strains. Sunlight blinds me and I blink rapidly.

“Jeez, I don’t remember the sun being this intense.” I complain.

I groan and knock over the branches covering my frail body. Struggling to rise, I have to take a minute to not collapse in my efforts to stand. A sigh slithers out from my lips, my throat feeling slightly sore.

Probably the screaming, I reason.

Maybe you’re sick.

If you get sick, you’ll die of cold, thirst, and hunger.

You should just give up now.

It’s not worth the trouble.

The anxiety-triggered voices flood my head. My palms start to sweat, the cold truth biting my skin like wind. The voices, so many, such variety. It’s breaking me. I feel my sanity sink slowly, a wrecked boat sliding under the water. There’s no help for the crew.

There’s no help for you.

My breathing speeds up, a panic attack beginning to swell. I hear the sound of my hyperventilating fill the crisp Montana air. My throat shuts tightly and I watch the black blur the edges of my vision. I let my burning tears fall, the salty residue it leaves behind snaps me into focus.

Logic says slowly calm your breathing down and rest, but I’m not logic.

On spur of the moment, my legs move without me commanding them. I run, if only to try once again to escape myself. My tears stream across my face, clouding my vision. I don’t care where I end up, I just need to escape my thoughts.

Every anxious feeling, every negative voice, all the depression, it all fades away the faster I dash. I race myself, hoping to leap across the finish line before they catch up to me.

My heart flutters, rapidly bursting through my skin. I can almost feel my veins levitate with adrenaline and blood.

Soon enough the force from my sprinting leaves my eyes clear of liquid, and I abruptly brake. I splutter, trying to greedly supply my needy lungs with oxygen. I get lightheaded, and I shuffle to a nearby tree, leaning against it for support.

One glance at my surroundings, my heart plummets to my stomach. I listen to the sound of cars whisk by on the black pavement.

This is the road-

To the mental facility.

My body shrivels as I slump to my knees. I try to scream in agony, yet all that escapes my throat is a whimper of misery.

I’ll never find my way.

I could follow the road north, but it would take ages to reach safety. Not to mention, the risk of someone seeing me and taking me back to the hospital. There is no way that I would ever return there of my own free will.

Come to think of it, I had no say in my departure to that place.

I should just give up, I decide. I’m going to find something, somewhere, to kill myself.

When the thought pops into my mind, I’m a little taken aback by my own words. I’m actually going through with my plan.

Thus, I turn back and march, a glint in my eye. My vision glazes over, and all I can think about is how I’ll end my remorseful life. I want to start again, but I don’t want to be me.

I don’t want to be me, I want to cease to breathe.

I halt, and ponder what I just stated in my head. It was so full of regret, like I’m a songwriter who sings to the world his suicidal wishes.

“Did I just rhyme?” I inquire, asking no one in particular.

“I’m afraid so my dear,” answers a deep, hollow voice.

It echoes inside my head, I can’t tell if I imagined it or if the man it came from was really here.

I whip my head from side to side, searching. I need to know, am I alone? To my bitter findings, I’m isolated, only a few meters away from the road still buzzing with vehicles. All around me, the birds soar above the treetops, woodland creatures barking and scurrying across the forest floor.

A weight settles in my stomach. I soon realize, I’m truly solitary.

You have us.

I attempt to blink away the sound, and focus on the animals around me and the feeling of the frosted grass beneath my bare feet. I choose to begin my journey, pursuing something useful.

On instinct, I list off possibilities as I walk in a random direction, hoping to leave the road behind.

A junkyard, or some place with rope, I consider. I plan new and better ways as I continue. Maybe I could climb a tree and jump off.

What if you only break something and don’t actually die? another, childish-toned, voice adds in.

I tune her out, just to continue on with my list.

I could eat something poisonous, like a mushroom.

Pffft, the giddy child snickers, Carina is so stupid at times.

“Shut up!” I shout.

It doesn’t take long for my face to burn with embarrassment. Despite there being a huge lack of company, I still shun myself for the mindless outburst.

Unexpectedly, it comes to me. The perfect solution for my problem. All I need is a body of water.

I’m going to drown myself, I conclude.

Laughter explodes from me. I clutch my stomach and double over, the mad chuckles erupting from me.

“It’s so simple!” I howl. “No one will suspect a thing, yes, yes this is going to be my death!”

I strajectically plan everything out. I calmly tune out the shuffle of squirrels  and flap of feathered wings. Mutters sneak out of my mouth, every second of every minute of every hour, just like prisoners lined up in a row, ready for execution.

Every single detail plays a movie in my head, all the sights, all the sounds. Even the feeling of my life slipping away. I shudder, the cold wind picking up. A grin creeps across my face.

“I’d better be on my way then,” I establish, a smirk plastered on my chestnut cheeks.

This is it, I think to myself, I’ve tumbled off my rocker, slowly crawling to my limit.

I ponder this for a small while as I saunter, interrogating my subconscious, who I can almost certify is listening to my raspy mumbling and ranting. The dirt feels chilling between my copper toes, a hushed thump as my feet gracefully caress the ground. The sensation is peaceful, a serene atmosphere flooding my nerves. I sigh, the light sound coming out as barely a whisper.

If only my life could stay this way, instead of delusions taking over my whole world.

I come to a stop, taking in my surroundings. The smell of pine fills my nostrils, and I sense the the air around me start to drop in temperature. The sun has already made its decent, hanging low in the blackening sky.

Stars twinkle up above as I lay under a blanket of frigid air and the grass acting as my pillow. A glance at my arms and I spot smudges of dirt and blood. Scratches and cuts speckle like the bright stars. My fawn skin appears calloused and bruised, I shrug it off and lay my weary head. I stroll into a deep sleep, wanting to shut out the world until morning.

I dream of my father, playing with my mother and I when I was young. I watch myself grow older, and my father meaner. He got drunk every night, verbal abuse straining our broken home. As soon as my episodes began to occur, he pretended I never existed. Blamed my mother for not being able to conceive a son.

The visions get worse, so much yelling, and finally, the drunk father of mine demanding I go, he disowned me. Mom took me to the last few appointments at the lab, and the increase in episodes showed the doctor how messed up I am.

My eyelids slam against my head, I sit up frantically. The cold sweat beads on my forehead and I shiver. It was all just a dream.

Flashbacks, corrects a soft masculine voice.

I sigh irritably. With medication, the nightmares stopped. However, I’ve been off meds for 48 hours now. At least everything will be over soon.

I wipe the dirt off my face and rise, my knees aching. Every movement sends a ripple of discomfort through my body. For once, I think about my hair. My hand lifts to run through my tawny locks, however, immediately it catches on a knot.

“Argh!” I jolt in pain, “Stupid knots!”

I quickly stop, realizing there’s no use. I’m going to be gone soon anyway. The sun beams through the tree branches and illuminates my bronze skin. My light mood shifts to an empty feeling.

My life has become a void; I was first trying to hold on to a cliff that I was already slipping off. I never gave up, my will to live was too strong. A light that shines above all. Time crawls by, I grow tired. It doesn’t take long for me to get bored. I try something new, try to live my own way, embracing the cliff. The world around me fades into black, it’s just me and the stone wall I cling to. Then my light starts to flicker. I become aware of the vacuum my world has changed into. I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s so difficult to hold on. My hand clenches.

What if I let go? I wonder, If only I was brave enough. If only I had nothing left to lose.

“But there really is nothing left for me,” I comment to my thoughts.

“Actions speak louder than words, but you should think before you do either,” a male voice responds.

I tilt my head like a curious puppy. Who is this voice I keep hearing?

In an instant, the voice is gone, just as fast as he- it?- appeared. I shrug it off and determine I should focus on my task. As much as my joints are sore, I carry on my way, marching in a parade of suffering to my ultimate end. I tread over the soil, confident.

    *  *  *

I’ve discovered the perfect place. I spot the clearing from between the tree trunks, a shimmering blue surface ahead. The water sparkles in the sun, the gentle crest as the breeze glides across the top. I quiver in the cold, but smile at the beauty. A deer or two hang back behind to treeline opposite to me, and leisurely stride along the grass. I hear birds chirping with delight, I almost sing with their chorus. I tiptoe closer as I observe the surroundings.

Before long, I jerk back into focus, my goal is to drown. I stare into the deep cobalt blue, wrapping my arms around myself as the wind picks up. Goosebumps form delicately on my bare arms and legs, my hair standing on end. All I have to do is walk towards the water and-

Just go already!

I obey and senselessly step, one foot in front of the other repeatedly. The pond’s waves gently lap at the grass and grows ever closer. I keep going, without hesitation. The forest is dead silent, save for the vicious wind whipping at the water’s surface. I halt at the shore, and stare intensely into the shallow water. It’s just deep enough so I don’t have to eat sand. I softly fall to my knees, and place my palms flat on the ground. I lean my body forward and face my reflection. I gasp quietly.

My mocha cheeks are shallow, it’s obvious that I haven’t eaten in days. I stare into my own dark amber eyes, purple streaks in the form of bags just below them. I become aware of my throat, dry and hoarse.

I should drink some of this water before I- I reconsider my thought halfway though.

Well, dear, looks like you’re still clinging to life, remarks the male voice from before.

Stop thinking! Do it already! Just, you need to end it before you back out, commands a raspy, irritated female voice.

I concur and fulfill her desires.

They’re your desires, we are the same person.

In one quick motion, I thrust my head underwater. I shut my eyes tight and grind my teeth. The sloshing of the water in my ears is utterly annoying. My hands grip the grass sternly, holding my head under the water. Lungs straining, I start struggling. Even with my eyes closed, I see purple dots and flashes dancing across my vision. I become dizzy and disoriented. I wonder how ridiculous I must look. I waver, my body swinging back and forth as I await to black out.

It never comes.

A hand finds the back of my collar and clenches tightly. It tugs, and wakes me up. My hair explodes from the water’s surface, bringing with it a series of water droplets to glide across the air. My lungs scream for air, and I inhale strongly, feeling relief from the burning sensation. Coughs splutter from my mouth as I attempt to give to my begging lungs. I spin around to face my savior. Who I face is not who I would have first expected.

“You seem surprised that I would be the one who saved you,” states the tall male in front of me. “yet here I am, looking at a sad girl on her knees, wanting to end her miserable life.”

I ignore the sarcastic tone in his voice and observe him. He’s well built and healthy, with blue eyes that reflect the sky and short, curly caramel hair. He bares a blue sweatshirt, similar to a boy I once knew back in school. The torn sweatpants he wears were in terrible shape, black in color, I can still see his slightly tanned skin, many shades lighter than my own.

“If you want to save me,” I remark, “then give me a reason to live.”

A concerned look phases him for a small moment, but he soon smiled and reached a golden colored hand down to me. I give it a uneasy look.

“If only to keep you alive,” his voice rich with the Midwestern accent as he packs his syllables tightly, speaking swiftly, “then I will be here for you.”

I finally accept his help, grasping his hand firmly. With one swift motion, he pulls my body up. I’m surprised to find how he compares to me in height. I’m only slightly shorter. I stare deep into his pale blue eyes and face my reflection. This time, I’m not afraid.

We stay like this for a while, until I realize what we’re doing. I jump back and blush brightly, my cheeks feeling extremely warm. The wind blows steadily and my dripping wet pecan hair swishes in a tame fashion. I try to move things along, to escape the embarrassment.

“I, well, can you get me to a safe place?” I ask.

He responds with a laugh, “Of course darling. You’re going to love having me as a friend.”

I back him up for a minute. “Wait a minute dude, I didn’t say we were friends. And what’s with calling me darling?!” I raise my voice slightly, accusing him.

Dangerous, dangerous!

Don’t trust him!

He’s a stranger, he will hurt you.

I consider the worries filling my thoughts and I brush them off.

Who knows, he could be lying, but he could help us,, I correct myself, he can help me. And me alone.

“Hey, do you have a name?” I change the subject. “Also, I need to kind of get some help soon, I’m slightly dying of hunger,” I say casually and shrug.

“No kidding, your cheeks are caved in and I can almost guarantee that under your little gown your ribs are showing.”

I suddenly get a little self-conscious and lightly brush my stomach with my rough hands under the white fabric. Immediately I recognized the bones protecting my heart and lungs.

“Oh right, you can call me whatever you like, I don’t really have a name,” he stated.

His face seemed to darken as he said this. I notice how he noticeably fidgets with his sleeves, nervous about something. I chuckle, finding humor in it.

“I guess I’ll call you,” I pause, not knowing what to call him.

Names fly around in my head, but none of them seem fitting. Precipitously, a blue jay soars low next to the young man’s head, chirping as it sends a wave of air to ruffle both of our hair. I spot it going back up, landing on an outward tree branch overhanging the clearing. It’s burning gaze meets my eyes, the black beads glaring at me from above.

Jay, that’s what I’ll call him, I decide, smiling to myself.

“I’ll call you Jay.”

His blue eyes light up and a smile spreads across his hazelnut face.

“Yeah,” he considers, “I like that.”

His sweet smile fills me with joy. I feel a darkness lift from my shoulders. I’m still feel cold from the gentle wind and exhausted from the journey, not to mention the lack of essentials.

There’s still a long way to go.

Jay tells me to follow him, he says he knows the way to a town off of the maps called Dunwich. He claims it isn’t far, but any distance is far for a weak teenage girl with schizophrenia

I follow his figure through the woods, we talk about me a lot. I realize that I know almost nothing about him. Yet, whenever he says something genuinely funny, I giggle, finding humor in the same things. We’ve become best friends because he saved a poor girl from drowning herself. This world works in crazy ways.

The sun settles in the middle of the sky, a roof over all of Montana and keeping us warm from the bitter bites of fall. Jay and I are still strolling side by side, ever closer as best friends. I think for a second.

He’s the only friend I’ve ever had, except for him. Back in Junior High I had a best friend, and he had a crush on me.

How could anyone like you?

You didn’t deserve someone like him.

So sweet, he was eventually going to see who you really were.

I growl in my thoughts, blocking out the wolves nipping at my heels.

Lukas brought out the best in me.

As i l sneak a glance at Jay blabbering about whatever, something strikes me. Jay looks a lot like Luke. I swear, the only difference is Luke’s glasses. Jay has the same pale blue eyes, the same light brown hair.

I shake my head. That’s ridiculous, Jay is so much different. Lukas is far away from here, and he would remember me.

Wait, I think, Lukas might not remember me. It’s been three and a half years.

They’ve all forgotten you, they only remember the psycho you became.

The old you they will never remember. Only the girl who threw a tantrum like a child.

No one even cares if you still exist.

What if I’m dead and they all forgot me?! I panic.

I didn't even realize that Jay was looking at me, I stopped walking and was currently staring off into space. I suddenly become aware of his voice, shouting my name.

“Carina! Listen to me! Snap out of it,” Jay’s face is filled with worry, his eyes turning dark.

I look at him with burning intensity. “How do you know my name?” My throat grows dry and my skin cold.

“I- well, you see,” he stutters, “we introduced ourselves to each other, you don’t remember telling me your name?”

Embarrassment washed over my gaze, my cheeks turning light rosy pink. I look down, to avoid meeting his icy baby blue eyes. A gentle cackle rises from deep within his throat, and he nervously brushes a curl behind his ear.

“I really wish we were friends, then I wouldn’t have to be awkward and apologize for laughing at you,” he bares a big goofy grin on his face.

Just for a moment, I think to myself, You’re the best friend I used to have, until I correct myself. Even if his smirk reminds me of Lukas, Jay is still a stranger.

I’m about to tell Jay that we should be on our way, until I’m abruptly interrupted by the sound of hisses and barks. I look towards my left, hearing scratches of claws against the dirt.

Jay and I laugh, seeing two adorable fox pups wrestling outside of a den. Their fur is coated in leaves and needles, the gray coats are tinged with orange, revealing their young age. The carefree nature reminds me of my responsibilities. I need to get to Dunwich soon.

I explain to Jay.

“The sun is getting lower and lower, we need to keep going.”

Jay nods and takes my hand. He nonchalantly drags me away, on our path to the small town. Meanwhile, I mindlessly walk behind him, staring at my dark wrist in possession of his.

    * * *

It’s about seven p.m. now. We’ve been walking for hours, only taking one break. After a while, he had let go of my wrist, but we haven’t said anything other than the occasional “do you need a break?” or something minor. We are settling down for the night by a stream, and I’ve rehydrated myself. Jay offered to kill an animal to cook, but he also noted we were only two miles away from Dunwich. I suggested we get up early to get breakfast at a diner or somewhere once we arrive.

The sound of the brook slowly cascading among the rocks soothes my thundering mind. Crickets chirp and sing, and Jay and I lay under the stars after watching the beautiful sunset. I only now feel the empty pit in my stomach, and feel it grumble. It growls and groans for something to fill it. I grow more and more tired, and my eyelids flutter closed as I’m lulled to sleep.

I thrash in my sleep, nightmares of flames engulfing the world consuming my body. I cry out, wanting it to end.

I jolt awake, sitting up with force. The sun still barely above the eastern horizon to my left, I sit and listen to my heavy breathing blend in with the stream and the birdsong. Frantically, I search around me as I remember Jay. There is no sign of him.

The smell of dirt and fresh water distracts me and I observe the stream behind my laying body. Frogs croak and hop around, enjoying the last moments of warm fall. The footprints I remember from yesterday have disappeared, like Jay wasn’t even here.

I scream, startling many poor animals from their safe perches.

Did he leave me to die?!

He never cared.

Tears stream down my cheeks and I cry. Sobs fill the air. I remember the way to Dunwich, but without Jay I can’t do this on my own.

Run to Dunwich, he must have gone without you.

Find him, make him pay.

Despite my aching bones, I hop up, and kneel down on the edge of the stream. The frogs hurriedly leap away to safety, squeaking in distress and fear. I cup my hands together and bring water to my tear stained face. I splash it on my dark cheeks and drink some.

I stand up straight, and look towards the west. Dunwich is Northwest, two miles. The sooner I get there, the quicker I can regain my strength and hopefully find Jay.

I run. I run and run, sprint until I can't sprint anymore. I approach a hill, and notice the trees thinning out. I slow my pace, and crest the hill. I breathe heavily and my chest aches, but my quaking legs and sore feet mean nothing as I smile and cry with joy and excitement. I see the old fashioned buildings of main street and cars scattered throughout Dunwich. Houses look so small and cute from the tall hill, and I beam with pride.

However, the exhaustion slams into me. My legs shake and I feel lightheaded. The sounds of nature are muted, and my vision goes dark, as I land on my knees. I blink, trying to stay conscious. I falter, and collapse.

In my last moments before I pass out, I think to myself, Jay wasn’t even real. What if everything was all a dream?

Finally, warm blackness. I mold into my dreams, the delusion of my life fading away like a photograph.