SUP3RFRUIT Imagines

Ill.

Mitch

The day we heard that word.

That terrible word.

The word that makes people stray from you.

"You have schizophrenia."

schiz·o·phre·ni·a noun
a long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation.

That's the doctors' definition.

Society's definition?

Crazy.

Attention-seeking.

Dramatic.

I hold Scott tight as we hear the news.

"Thank you." Scott responds with a grim look on his face.

We start talking about medication.

I don't want my life to be defined by the medication that I take.

"Mitchie?" Scott squeezes my hand.

I look up.

"You aren't alone in this. There are many support groups in Los Angeles that may help you through this new process."

"Thank you so much." Scott says and shakes the doctor's hand.

We check out and leave.

Scott squeezes my hand, but I jerk it away.

"Mitchie..." He whispers.

I feel tears fill my eyes as I get into the car and slam the door.

"Mitch, it's okay."

Tears flow from my eyes.

Scott opens his mouth but quickly closes it.

He grips the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

He's stressed.

I stress him out.

I turn on the radio.

Scott smiles and starts humming along to the song.

"C'mon, Mitch. This is your favorite song!"

I smile and sing along.

By the time we reach our house we're laughing like maniacs.

Well, I actually am a maniac.

We go inside and get ready for a rehearsal that we have in a little bit.

I put on some more comfortable clothes.

"Uh, Mitch... You don't have to..."

"Don't have to what?" I snarl, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I mean... Never mind, let's go."

"I know what you were going to say, just forget it. You think that I can't handle being in this band anymore. It's because I stress everyone out, isn't it?"

I feel tears stream from my eyes.

"Mitch, no, I was just-"

"Forget it!" I scream and run to my room.

I slam the door shut.

That wasn't me talking.

They're here again.

The voices that tell me to scream and get angry.

I scream into my pillow while I wait for the malevolent creatures to leave.

They're big and scary and dark.

They tell me things about death and tell me that I'm worthless.

I continue to cry as I see the creatures move away.

A hand is placed on my back.

I scream but get pushed down gently onto my bed.

I open my eyes and see sad blue eyes above me.

I try to speak but no words come out.

Scott opens his mouth but is in the same situation.

I grab him and pull him down beside me, cuddling into his chest.

"I'm sorry." I mumble.

He kisses my sweaty forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"I'm such a wreck. No one wants to be around me. I even lashed out at you. I'm sorry."

"I understand, it's okay. You're still the same Mitch, okay? We all love you."

I nod and yawn. "Stay."

"Let's take a nap. Love you."

"Love you." I mumble and doze off into my boyfriend's arms.

The worst part about it is that I don't know if it will get better or worse.

All I know is that if I have another episode, I want it to be in my boyfriend's arms.

**

2 months what two months.