DISTORTED FACES

9. Perception.

The doctor tediously flips through an endless pile of papers. Every time he turns the page he makes the same hypnotizing noise. His fingers pinch the corners and toss them aside, almost tearing the edges. Observing this cycle repeat itself I begin to zone out. I just stare blankly at the gold wooden plaque on his desk. The name 'Dr Steve Byun' engraved on it in some pretentious cursive font. I have been seeing this doctor for two weeks now. Each day I: receive treatment, undergo tests, answer numerous questions, and then I leave only to come back and repeat the same routine. The weeks have become more agonizing as they go on, it is close to unbearable sitting here watching this man constantly flip through papers. "How do you feel, Jay? How do you feel about your progress? Do you think you have made any?" Steve interrupts his own annoying performance. He stops juggling papers and focuses all his attention on me. "I...I do not know how to answer that." My hands sweat, squished below my knees. Nothing he has said or done has helped me, I refuse to look at him at this point. "You know, I can only do so much for you. I can prescribe you medicines to aid your health, I can give you helpful routines to benefit your mental state, I can answer your questions, but whether or not you trust us to help you, is up to you." This is the first time I have heard him address me so casually. I guess he is human after all. Now feeling temporarily intrigued by what he has to say, I look up at him. The doctor goes on speaking. " Now, you have been very compliant with the tests and your treatment but it is obvious you are still, detached. Have you gotten any sleep? Are you even taking the medication?" He pauses and waits for me to respond, but I refuse. I look above his head, at the rows of knick-knacks and family portraits scaling the wall. My mind gets lost trying to put together the pieces of this man's life: I even create fillers for the blank spaces. "Why? Why are you refusing? I understand you were brought in against your knowledge Jay, but you were unconscious, You fainted due to malnutrition, sleep deprivation, dehydration, people are worried about your health. Is there a reason why you do not want our help?" He anticipates a response, but he never gets one. "Are you afraid you are going to stump your band? Withhold them? Because that is exactly what you are doing by not taking our help seriously." The truth is, considering my shadow casts the darkest delusions, It has been difficult not to identify with the monster. I course my train of thought to a more reclusive area, maybe there I can be safe.

The doctor handed me a stack of papers with my test results listed in unreadable ink. Then I simply stand up and walk away: everything left unsolved. I enter one of the hospital bathrooms: which reeks of bleach making my nose fizz and my eyes water. Those damn fluorescent lights giving me the most excruciating headache. No one else is here but me. Like a drunken weakling my hand catches my forehead and I stumble into one of the stalls. My body falls over my knees when I take a seat. The memories of one of my nightmares plays out in my head as it gradually dips forward. I look down at the wide tile pieces spiralling below my feet. Perhaps this is another descent into her world. "Stop dozing off Jay." I groan and wipe away the crust from my eyes. Now looking up at the black door, etched in the center are hundreds of these thin coiling scratches. The grey markings stretch from the middle to the very bottom, as if someone violently scrapped the edge of their key into it. They must have done it obsessively. Insanity drove them and led them to create this pile of tangled lineaments on the door. Madness gripped the key so tight that it pierced their skin causing a drop of blood to speckle the floor. I stare at the madman's masterpiece and regain some balance, but my perspective is changing. It was her who scratched the door like she does in my mind. Each line is turning into a single hair. They slowly fall beyond the edge and drape over the tile.

I quickly dart out of the bathroom stall. While frantically escaping I almost ran into a man walking in the door. My phone starts ringing, Charlie is calling, but I ignore it. The ringing echoes in my head the entire way home.

As soon as I arrive, I feel the urge to escape again. My plan is to ignore everyone and go straight into the kitchen to grab some water, but that falls through as soon as I walk in. Behind the island counter are Johnny and Tobi making their lunches: plain peanut butter sandwiches and large bags of assorted chips. They are like a couple of elementary students raiding the pantry after school. Tobi, forgetting how gravity works, tosses Johnny some napkins, they float to the ground. Instead of picking them up, Johnny notices me. "Oh hey! How did it go today?" He greets me. Tobi raises an arm and blurts out, "Aye Jay! Long time no see." They both mean well, but the overly enthusiastic pleasantries in their tone make my fists clench.

Guilt forces a smile on my face and I attempt to go through with my plan. "Sure-" I respond, noticing the plate with a full sandwich and chips already on it, "-is this one mine?" Not a second later, a woman's voice follows mine. She claims the plate to be hers as she emerges from the hallway and stands across the room. Charlie grabs both of her hands nervously and squeezes her fingers together. Obvious tension fills the room, but I am not a part of it. All I can think about is how good she looks in that short skirt. Her lips are red like a rose and I can not refrain my brain from coming up with endless cliche analogies to describe her beauty. "What are you doing here?" I swallow and shake my head. This is not the time to be weak, what if it is another trick? I must not lose myself now. "I wanted to come talk to you. You have been ignoring every single one of my calls and all my messages since the incident. I wanted to make sure you were alright." She talks so innocently. I make sure to pay extra close attention to every single detail behind every move she makes. "I am doing fine." I reply, coldly. I continue to maneuver around the guys to execute my plan, but no one else in the room even budges. "Dude-" Johnny stops me. "I know it is not my business but-" My attention turns away after that and my hand grabs the handle on the fridge. Finally, I manage to grab a bottle of water. "Thank you Johnny, but if you do not mind, I want to talk to him alone."

Charlie convinces me to sit and talk with her in my room. A loud clicking sound bounces from wall to wall and it comes from the ceiling fan. It rocks back and forth as the planks rotate. I look around at my side of the room: compared to her room, mine is pristine and clean, aside from some garbage littering the bed covers. She tosses it all to the floor and sits on the edge. Before she talks, she cries. With no restraints, Charlie's eyes flooded with tears. The atmosphere in the room changed into something more sentimental. I stand with my joints a little looser and watch her. "I should not make this about me now. This is not about me." She says between sobs. "I have just been very worried about you. I had to make sure you are okay because..." During the pause, I approach the bed and sit beside her. "Jay, we are all going through something terrible in our minds..." Every phrase she meant and the expression when she looks at me is indescribable. "I have hidden my problems from you, from everyone because we all care about you so much and I try to help you as much as I can, but lately I have been struggling...Jay..." Words that will change everything linger on the tip of her tongue. Before saying it she just has to close herself off to me some more by crossing her arms into her chest. "You scare me." She says.