Psychosis

We're running. Running through corridors. Doors of deep wood, smelling of paper and ink, fly past us. Your voice echoes in transparent laughter, bouncing off the panelled walls and glittering windows. We're alone. My hand is tight upon yours, our fingers threaded together. The needle is still warm in my pocket. I turn back to look at you.

You're standing now. We've both stopped in the corridor. You're staring in a open door. Red lockers gleam with fresh paint from within. They flash dangerously in your eyes. I open my mouth, say your name. You move to look to me, but something stops you. There is someone in the other room. Crouched on the floor and crying. His hands are stained with red paint.

You step towards the open door. I warn you, telling you it's a lie. A trap. You don't look at me but run in the door to aid the Other. I run after you. The door closes. It locks.

I bang my hands on the door, staring through the window as you help the person from the floor. You take off your blazer and put it around him. His arms are as thick as your body, his eyes dark and moving with a strange lust I want to save you from. I bang the door harder and scream your name. You step back, towards the door. Towards me.

But his hands are on you now. His mouth encases yours and I see you suffocate. His fingers tight on your tie, pulling you closer. Your shirt stained with red hand prints.

I scream louder. Bang louder. Your name is ringing like church bells in the empty corridor.

I try again.

We're running. Running through the corridors. I hold your hand tighter this time. I won't let you get taken. I pull you past the door with the red lockers. You protest. You claim you need to save him. I pull harder.

You fight me, but I don't let go. I beg you to understand. I'm trying to save you. Please understand. But you pull against me and plead. You say you must help him. As I helped you.

I beg. Please. It's not the same. It's a trick.

The door closes behind us. The threat has passed. I relax. Breathe out. You shake and I see the tears come. I tell you not to cry. I tell you that I'm here, and you're with me. All is well. Don't cry. I reach out to touch your face.

A man calls you from behind and you turn. You let go of my hand. I cry out but you've gone. Running back down the corridor. I call after you, but you ignore me. Or perhaps you can't hear. I run after you.

You turn a corner and I follow. We're in a different corridor. The walls are white. The lights flicker. I listen for you. I can't see you. I look in all the rooms. They're empty. It's what I remember from this place. From whenever I was there. Empty rooms.

I find you. In the last room. The lights flicker again. You are kneeling next to a bed and crying. The man lays comatose in bed, hideous wires weaving in and out like a unravelling puppet. A twisted image of something I never saw. Never knew until you told me.

I reach out for you. You're cold to touch. I whisper your name. You stand and you push me. You scream about how I wasn't there when you needed me. I didn't know, I whimper. I didn't know. You push me from the room and slam the door.

I try again.

We're running. Running through the corridors. I pull you fast past the lockers, where they call and jeer in vermilion fury. I feel you begin to pull, but I am stronger. I run faster and draw you with me. Our feet slam against the Dalton floors in beats with no rhythm. A voice begins to call you and I see your face fall. I turn you to me.

I tell you not to listen to that voice. It's a memory. A bad memory that doesn't matter now. You argue, but I stop you. Beseech you. Don't listen to that voice. It means nothing to us. You nod slowly and I see the warmth swell in the place where green meets grey in your eyes. I smile.

We run down the corridor. A strange song starts to play. It's a warped version of one we know. Slow and terrifying. I feel your fingers slip. I cry for you but you've stopped.

You are frozen between two people. I see them wrap their arms around you and whisper tortures in your ear.

Jeremiah claims that I loved him first. How you came second. A consolation prize. I shout it's not true, but I see your eyes go out like a candle. Jeremiah holds your hand tight behind your back and sneers.

I beg you not to listen. But you close your eyes and turn.

Rachel snatches your other hand and pulls you towards her. She is more beautiful now. More horrifying and terrible then she could ever have been before. She whispers lies in your ears and starts the cancer of doubt. I see it inside you. See it kill you slowly.

I run towards you. I beg them to let you go, but they're moving away. Taking you with them.

Please, I scream. Give him back to me.

I try again.

We're running. Running through the corridors. I don't let go this time. I fight you past the door. I sing so loudly you can't hear the voice. I make you sing with me to drown out the poisoned love song.

It doesn't matter. I look at you and let you read the words in my eyes. It doesn't matter what has happened, what they say, or what is asked of you. We are what matter. Please don't leave me again. I see you nod. I smile. We run.

We turn the corner at the end of the hall. The sun is brilliant. I see it winking outside the door at the end of the hall. I feel you step up next to me. You ask me can I feel it.

No. I feel nothing.

You start walking towards the door. I hold onto you tightly. You turn and smile at me. That wonderful smile. You tell me not to be afraid. That it's only her, and we'll be safe. I ask you not to go. That we're safe here. We're happy here. You smile again. You shake your head. You start to walk.

I look at my hands. You are gone. My hands are wet, water dripping down between my fingers. I look up and see you walking towards the door. I call after you. You tell me it's safe. You're going to her and we'll be safe. I start to cry.

Please don't leave me again.

I run after you. You are outside, walking towards a lake. The water is wide and blue. The grass is too green. I tell you it's can't be real, but you laugh at me. I clench my fists and the needle burns in my pocket.

A woman is waiting for you in the lake. She is standing in the water. It hugs her waist and stains her dress. I run to your side and hold you. I do not know this woman. Don't go with her. Stay with me.

You tell me it's alright. We're safe. But I do not trust her. She has a strange smile and quiet eyes. I hold you tighter.

Don't go with her. Stay with me.

But you get angry. You yell. And fight. But I do not let go. I can't let you go. You ask if I love you and I stall. My grip slackens. You slip through my drowned fingers.

You run to her. The water splashes and pushes. I call you. But you say nothing. You wade into the water into her arms. I see her eyes flash.

No. I scream. I beg. I plead. I cry. She is gone. With you. Under the water where I can't see you. I jump. The water is cold and thieves my breath. I swim. I swim and swim, calling your name.

But I am alone. You are gone. Drowned.

I want to try again. Please. Let me try again.

It's the same dream. Over and over. A broken record. Scratched and uneven. I go to see you. Often. I don't like where they have you. What they make you wear. You tell me how much you miss your own clothes and it's in the moments I realise why my heart hasn't broken completely yet. On some occasions I see it in your eyes. The faintest spark. Recognition. For me. My heart beats that little bit faster when I see it. It keeps me going. Reminds me that you are still you.

You're just sick. But you're going to get better. I will help you get better.

I had noticed what was happening to you for a while. I saw it. Saw you, withering before me, wilting as something heavy pressed down on your mind. You told me. Told how sometimes you could feel it. Pressing down, pushing on your brain. Making you angry, sad. Making you think things. Bad things.

You spoke of your father. Of past trysts which I could no longer remember. You fought and fought with me, but I would never fight back. I only pleaded.

I remember calling your father. Asking for his help. I remember how I felt when he told me of your mother. Of the accident. He told how he had always feared, but never acknowledged that you might have it, too. Her disease. Her own terrible form of tumour.

But you couldn't have it. You had always been so wonderful. So beautiful. How? How could you be so plagued? But I know how it happened. How it started.

They came for you when they knew I wouldn't be there. They had been watching. Waiting. What they did to you... I want to kill them. It fills me with a poisonous hate that stains my blood black and my mind red. I can't forgive them. No one cane make me. When you ask me to, in those rare moments of realisation, I snap at you. I tell you I can't. Not even for you.

And then you forget.

They told you me you were better when we left the hospital that day. That you may need some therapy after such an ordeal, but you fought me then, too. You had held my hands, looked into my eyes and begged me not send you. I felt my heart crack at the sight, and agreed.

I wish I had been stronger. And that I had told you no.