***
“Lily?” An unfamiliar voice knocked on an unfamiliar door. My eyes were half-open but I could tell I wasn’t at home. I stared confused at a big white door with a woman smiling at me through a little window. “Lily?”
“Yes,” I answered this time, with a raspy voice.
“I have your pills.” The woman came into the room with a plate with two tiny pills.
“Pills?” My eyes squinted from pain. “What pills?”
“Doctor says you haven’t taken your pills in a long time.” The woman walked over to me but she stayed a few feet away.
“Doctor? Pills?” I was confused as I tried to open my eyes all the way, but they hurt too much.
“Yes, Lily, I have your medication.”
“I don't want those pills!”
“Why did you stop taking them?”
But I’m not crazy. I ignored the pain of my eyes and opened them wide. I wasn’t at home, I wasn’t in a hospital. I was in a nut house! The pillow-like walls were bright white as the sun shined through a tiny window and the reflection of it burned my eyes. There was a tiny television covered in pillows in the corner of the room—that probably didn’t even work.
My eyes grew immense in fright. Mike Durling! I remembered him saying he was going to get me help. I screamed at the thought. “AHHH! No, no! What the hell am I doing here! Help! No!”
The woman dropped the pills to the floor and ran out the room. “Doctor! Doctor! Come quick! She’s at it again! Hurry!”
Two huge men came running in the room with juicy needles. They held me tight in their arms. One of the men put me in a headlock and I bit his sweaty arm.
“AHH!” he yelled as he shook me and threw me to the floor. “Hey calm down!” The other man tried to pick me up off the ground but I kept on kicking. Then, another man emerged from nowhere and stabbed me with the needle in my arm.
I could not control the lids of my eyes from closing and before I knew it, I was dreaming again.
When I awoke, the room was dark compared to how I last remembered it. As I opened my eyes halfway, they hurt even worse than before. I touched the swollen place on my arm where the man stabbed me with a needle.
“…You have to take her. We can’t handle it anymore. Every hour she wants to fight…” I remembered her voice—the same woman from earlier that tried to give me pills. “You have to take her.” I wondered whom she was talking about.
“Well, I guess I can take her back home. She is just going through a lot right now,” Paul said. Now, I knew that the woman was talking to Paul obviously about me. What did I do now? I heard someone come into the room—probably Paul.
I heard the woman whisper “be careful,” as Paul approached me.
“Paul?” I said.
“Hey, Lily, we need to talk,” Paul said with a soft voice.
“Don't be afraid of me,” I cried.
“I have to tell you a story.”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“It’s about when you were younger,” he sighed. “When you were six years old, you would pull me into the backyard and tell me to meet your half-horse half-monkey friend. You would say, ‘look at Timmy! Timmy come here!’ and you would run around in the backyard and “chase” him. I would play along and “chase” him too. However, things just seemed to get worse. You would have odd emotions. You said you could hear voices and those voices would tell you bad things. Like the time you cut off all your hair. But that was baby stuff compared to the years to come. The first time you tried to kill Leslie was when we knew something was beyond damaged in your head. You had tied her to her bed while she was sleeping. If it wasn't for her screams Kathy wouldn't have caught you trying to strangle her. Then, you passed out for ten minutes and acted as if nothing happened. But it would just happen again. Therefore, Kathy said we should take you to the doctor because something wasn’t right. That’s when you, Lily, were diagnosed with schizophrenia after tens of testing. It’s been under control for the most part, but it seems it has gotten worse throughout the years.”
“And why didn’t you guys tell me when I was younger? Why now?” I laughed. “So, you mean Kathy didn’t hire that doctor Summings dude? I really am—”
“Kathy thought it was better if we didn’t tell you until you were older; when you wouldn’t be so harsh on yourself. We covered it up by saying you only had an anxiety problem. The truth was that your doctor was changing your medication dosage every few months to see which one worked. One month he tried some anxiety medication, then schizo meds, and then more anxiety medication. Some were even placebos, but the last time that was given to you was when you attacked Leslie the last time. He had finally found a safe dosage for you on XANAX, but it began to not work anymore. Although, your anxiety would subside, the hallucinations and mood swings did not. That's when Kathy decided we should tell you the truth so that you could go to a different hospital for advance testings so that you could get started on medication for schizophrenia. When I told him you were popping those anxiety pills like candy, he figured you had a tolerance or maybe even an addiction to them. ”
“I wouldn’t have been harsh on myself. It's something I couldn’t control.” I paused and thought back when I was a child. I always knew something was wrong with me. I just didn’t think it was this dreadful. I felt as if my whole life had been a lie. I was embarrassed that everyone knew except me. And all those times I called Kathy insane, Paul knew in his heart that I was too.
“So, what now?” my eyes narrowed. “Paul, I haven't been taking my medication in a while. I think that is why I'm acting this way. I stopped because they weren't working.”
“You cannot just stop taking your medication without telling anyone,” Paul snapped. “Did Jason know?”
“Why would I tell him anything!”
“It was Jason's job to monitor your pill intake.”
“You told Jason the truth?”
“Well, you didn't! Did you even talk to him about your so-called anxiety problem? Did you tell him about how you tried to kill your own sister several times? Did you tell him about how you popped XANAX like candy because you were most likely addicted to them!”
“I quit those pills months ago before I met Jason!” I snapped.
“Well, I had to tell him the truth after your second or fifth hospital visit. Shit begins to look fishy!” he snapped.
“What's fishy?”
“Um...well, maybe the fact that you were in and out of the hospital for an overdose on illegal drugs! You were having withdrawal issues from not taking your XANAX so you started taking some other stuff!”
“That is not true! I quit the XANAX just fine. I'm not taking street drugs!”
“You're a pill popper. Just admit it! The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.”
“No! I would remember doing street pills.”
Paul began to cry. “Please, Lily just admit it.”
“NO!
“It’s so simple; you do the drugs, but don’t remember you do them.”
“And where would I be getting the drugs from?”
“I don’t know, Lily! Ask yourself that!”
I bit my lip in confusion and we stayed silent for five minutes. Although, Paul’s story explained a lot of my life, it left even bigger questions. I understood my disorder but I still wasn’t convinced one-hundred percent that I was a drug addict.
“Did I have a heart attack, Paul?”
“Ha-ha, no,” he chuckled in confusion.
“Knock! Knock!” Dr. Summings came into the room. “Lily?”
“Hello,” I said in shame.
“I was listening and I see you understand your disorder now and I want you to promise that you will take these pills every day by yourself. I don’t want anyone to handle your pills,” he said as he handed me the pills. “If you do take them, your life will be a lot easier; I promise.”
“I guess I have no choice,” I sighed as I grabbed the box of medication
. I opened one bottle and my eyes narrowed. The pills looked like the ones before but they were purple. “Dr. Summings, these are a different color.”
“These are not XANAX—”
“No, I know that. Is this a different brand of anti-psychotic medication than before?”
“Nope, they are the exact ones you recently stopped.”
“Do they change colors over time?”
“NO. What is wrong?”
I smiled with nervousness. “I just feel foggy and stupid.”
“No, don’t feel stupid. This was your mother’s fear—that you would blame yourself. She would know, because she went through the same thing. She knew how much she blamed herself.”
“But, Dr. Summings, my life is completely changed. How can I live—”
“Lily, it’s okay. Many people have this disorder and live a normal life. I promise, if you take your medication as instructed you will be perfect.”
“You promise?”
“Promise.” Dr. Summings shook my hand and left the room.
I bit my nail, staring at Paul. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I agree, I should have told you before. I just always have a need to protect you, Lily.”
“No, I think I learned about it at a perfect time. I just feel stupid because I had no idea.”
“That means the meds work,” he said.
“Maybe…”
“Now, get up, we have to go,” he whispered. “You need an award for being one of the only people to be too nutty that you get kicked out a mental institution. Congrats. But, I’m kidding—you’re not crazy.”
“Why am I here?” I sat up and he put a shirt on me.
“Well, you passed out at the police station. The ambulance was called and Dr. Summings decided to run some test on you and learned you hadn’t been taking your medication. So, they brought you here.”
“Oh, I thought I had a heart attack,” I laughed.
“Nope.”
“Why are you mad?” I asked because of Paul’s bitter face.
“I’m not mad, just frustrated—”
“Why?”
“Uh…about…um…Jason. On how he wasn’t giving you your medication. That could have saved us a lot of time.”
“Oh.”
Paul drove home slower than usual. I assumed he did not want to freak me out on my first day back home. He did not answer any of my questions I had asked him. He just stayed silent and rolled his eyes the whole way home.
“Do you really think I’m crazy?” I asked for the millionth time.
“No, Lily. I really don’t know.” Paul parked his car in my driveway.
“You do know, Paul. Why’d you tell Calvin that?” I saw Jason’s car and realized I re-entered my nightmare.
“Because Lily, it’s true,” he rolled his eyes and got out the car. “Just think about it.”
I followed behind him out the car. “Think about what?”
“Bye, Lily!” Paul ignored me and walked back to his car.
I ignored him and walked into the house angry. I expected to see Jason on the couch, but he was nowhere. I searched the home for him but I still couldn’t find him.
“I should take a bath,” I sang to myself.
I ran the hot water and through some bubbles in the tub. While the water ran, I thought about what Paul had just told me about my mental stability.
I went over to Jason’s desk and pulled out his laptop—since mine was gone. I typed in the search engine ‘schizophrenia’. Millions of pages came up but I clicked on the first one.
“Symptoms are…hallucinations, delusions…” I read, “…laughing for no reason, bizarre or disorganized behavior, lack of emotion, sometimes misdiagnosed with bipolar or substance abuse...hmm.”
I had come to terms that I was a schizophrenic and the only way to be normal, were to take my meds. Case solved. However, I still did not understand how I was getting drugs in me. Obviously, someone was giving them to me and obviously, the drugs were making me feel worse. Therefore, I went into the big walk-in closet and tore open boxes. It had to be somewhere easy to find since I was doing them—but I couldn’t find anything. I sat on the floor thinking where I could possibly be getting them.
Nowhere! I didn’t have friends and I didn’t go to parties. The only way I could have got drugs in my system was if someone I knew was the one drugging me. But why would someone give me drugs?
To kill me.
“Why is the water over pouring, Lily?” Jason walked into the room, interrupting my thoughts.
I jumped in fear when I saw him and slammed his laptop down. I stared him deep in his eyes and knew he was the one—he looked too innocent and told too many lies.
“What are you doing?” He walked into the bathroom and turned off the water.
“Uh…I was about to take a bath,” I said as I threw a towel around my bare body.
“Oh yeah, I want to thank you for inviting the police to search the house. Thanks baby, thanks so much!” He kicked the shower door and walked over to me. “And thanks for calling Jerry out! I’m so happy you did that. But, guess what now, Lily? They just think you’re even crazier!”
“Ah! Don’t touch me!” I pushed him in the chest. “Stop it!”
“Damn Lily, I’m not trying to hurt you,” he cried as he hugged me. “I'm trying to kiss you!”
“Back off!” I screamed as I pushed his wet lips away from me.
“You get on my nerves!” He shook me so rough I could feel my eardrums move. “Do you know what you did? Now, I have people down my throat because of you!”
“Stop! Let me go!”
He pushed me to the bed and he grabbed a vase. I watched his movements wondering if he would throw it at me. I jumped up before he could think about throwing the massive vase and ran to the side of the bed. I grabbed one of my stiletto shoes and held it up as if it were a knife. My towel dropped from around me and Jason began to chuckle.
What do I do now? I thought as he walked over to me on the other side of the bed. I felt trapped and every thought in my head went haywire. Jason ran toward me and tried to wrap his arms around me again. I jumped up on the bed before he could grab me and ran out the room—I panicked on which way to run. I should run downstairs and call 911, I thought.
Without thinking, I threw the shoe back at his face. His face turned ugly and red as I stumbled to go downstairs.
“Lily, what are you doing?”
“Just leave me alone, Jason!”
“Come back here! I'm sorry!”
“I’m going to call 911!”
“No you’re not! I said I'm sorry!” With one hand, he threw the vase at the back of my head. My toe jammed into the side of the stair and I went tumbling down the stairs—I fell onto tiny pieces of glass.
“Oh, Lily? Are you okay?” Jason cried as he ran down to me. “I’ll help you up. Don’t move.”
“Leave me alone!” I cried as I held my head. “You bastard!”
“I’ll help you.” He pulled glass from my hair.
I shoved him away. “Get away from me, you murderer!”
“I’m not a MURDERER! Lily, let me help you!” he cried as he picked me up.
“I’m on to you, Jason. And if you think you are going to get away with murder, think again.”