We're Not Crazy

Stuck

When we woke up we just sat there.
From 10:36am to what was now 5:43pm we'd been sitting on the bed trying to figure out things to do.

I sat on my old bed while Josi sat on his with his back against the wall. I didn't tell Josiah but I was hearing things in our moments of silence.
I sat there like a corpse and couldn't move. I felt locked inside of it while I just listened to them in my ear. My eyes zoned out and my body stiff in an odd position.
Listening to them.

The things that weren't coming from him.

"He's not real." said Jeremiah's voice from my dream. I didn't like it.
I felt like crying.
In front of me I could see spiders crawling on the walls. The wall Josiah leaned against.
"He's not real. I'm real. Listen to me, please! Snap out of it, sweetheart! I'm begging you to look at me!"

"You were supposed to come home." was said every five to ten minutes. I knew she wasn't there. Josiah said she wasn't there and still I felt like I'd disappointed her.
"Why didn't you come home?"

"YOU BITCH!" she shouted.
And the spiders fell off the wall like they'd all died.
I could move now.

I got out of bed and walked over to Jo's then crawled in and huddled close as I laid my head on his shoulder.
We both stared at the wall.

"Bored or not...I like this better than there." he stated. His head laid on mine as we stared at the wall.
"You hated it a lot there, didn't you?"
"Yea."
"Why?" I wondered.
"They sucked."
"How?"
"They force pills down your throat and try to act like it'll make everything better. Nothin' was better. Nothin' got better. Nothin' was ever gonna get better. It was all a lie. They'd try to trick you into thinkin' you felt better, when really...I felt the same just...on meds. Sometimes I felt worse. Made me paranoid. They strapped me down to the bed all of the time because I'd freak out. Then inject me with more meds. They don't know how to make it feel better. I didn't have panic attacks until I started goin' there. They talked to me like I was some kinda idiot. Kept askin' me how I felt as if I knew. How would I know? I never know how I feel. Ever. They treated me like I was some psychopath. I'm not crazy. I've never been crazy. I'm tired. I'm angry. I'm sad."
"You're scared." I added.
He didn't respond.
"But that's okay. I promise."
"Yea, I'm scared." he agreed. "But scared ain't crazy."

We stared at the wall some more.

"Did you like it there?" he asked me.
"No."
"Is it better here or there?"
"Here."
"Why?"
"They tried forcing me to eat a couple of times. Said they wouldn't leave the room until I finished my plate. I didn't like that. I'd sit in the corner facing the wall and not speak to them until they left me alone. Some times I threw the plate at the wall when they kept demanding it out of me. I didn't want to eat. They tried to make me."
"Fuckin' idiots." he mumbled. "See, they didn't even fuckin' understand us! And they didn't wanna learn either."
"They made me talk about my mama a lot...even when I didn't want to..."
"When they made me talk I just sat there and wasted an hour and a half by sittin' in silence." he stated.
"I couldn't do that. They'd say I'd get in trouble because they needed to find out what was wrong so I had to speak up. I think whatever I told them was brought to court and used in trial against my mama. I overheard the therapist say that to a nurse and it's why I was one of very few that they forced to talk. They kept asking me questions and they'd make me go more in depth all the time and I didn't want to."
"Yea. They sucked."
"I don't wanna go back. They're gonna be mean. Meaner than before." I stated.
"Yea..."
"So what're we gonna do if they find us?" I wondered.
"We run."
"Again?"
"You rather run or get catched and go back?"
I didn't feel like telling him the word was 'caught', especially since he'd just say it didn't matter anyway.
"Run."
"Smart girl."

I picked up my head and looked at him.

He looked back at me.

"We'll run together, right?" I made sure.
"Yea. You're stuck with me."
"I like being stuck with you..."
"I like bein' stuck with you too."

I leaned in and pressed a small kiss onto his lips.

"If you're gonna kiss me, I want you to mean it." he stated as he looked at my lips.
"Mean it?"
"Yea. Kiss me like you like me."
"I love you."
He looked into my eyes.
I grabbed his face and pulled it to me before crashing our lips together again.
His arms wrapped around my waist and he pulled me into his lap. I could feel our tongues brushing against one another's while his hands slid up my shirt to hold my bare waist.

I stopped us.

"I'm not crazy either?" I wondered.
"Well, you love me...I think that makes you a little crazy." he snickered.
I stared at him as I softly held his face in my hands.
"No, you're not crazy, princess." he stated. "You've been done wrong and you're dealin' with it. I don't think you're crazy."
"I think..." I tried to gather my words properly. I never knew whether or not the things I wanted to say would sound ridiculous in his ears or not but I'd always say them anyway. In hopes that maybe he'd understand.

"I think loving you makes me less crazy."

He just looked at me.

"I'm not scared anymore. I feel...okay. I don't think you'd hurt me...and...and you make me feel good..." I told him. "I feel good and happy with you. I don't think about anything else. I don't hear anymore voices. I just think about and hear you. My mama didn't make me happy. My nurses didn't make me happy. I feel safe with you."
He smiled shyly as he looked at me. "I feel good with you too."
"Promise?" I smiled.
"I promise."
I kissed him again.

He rested his head on my shoulder as he held me close to him in his lap.
"I'd never hurt you...I swear." he said softly.