Something different I decided to write. I don't think most of us realize how bad mental illnesses really are. I don't own BTR.
He was only sixteen, and he had never grasped the concept of mental illness until now. The ambulance's red lights flashed brightly, mixing in with the festive lights that were strung across the street lamps and house roofs. The colored bulbs' colors were blurred and radiating lines in Kendall's wet eyes, his bare feet going numb in the three feet of snow that blanketed his front lawn. Every noise that surrounded him seemed to be escalated in volume, his ears ringing as he ran after the emergency vehicle.
One of his friends grabbed his arms, yanking him back. He didn't know who it was, and didn't really care. His vocal chords vibrated in his throat as he screamed, letting himself be pulled into the warm arms of who he now found out to be Carlos. "Kendall, please stop!"
The golden haired boy pounded against his friend's chest, trying his hardest to pry himself out of Carlos' arms. He wouldn't let him go, his hold being to tight. Finally giving in, Kendall slumped into Carlos' body, his sobs wetting his companion's sweater.
He hadn't even known his father was sick.
Once Kendall was in his house, he began hyperventilating, seeing how the furniture was tipped, the glass coffee table broken into pointy shards. A dark red puddle was pooled on the carpet next to the fireplace, a kitchen knife laying against the brick. Suddenly, his mother walked out from the kitchen, tears streaking her pale cheeks. When he saw her, a fire built up in his stomach, rage building into his shattered heart.
He broke free of Carlos' hold, running frantically to his mother. He grabbed her shoulders, shaking her forcefully. shrieked, feeling her son's strong hands grip her arms.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?" The blonde screamed, his green eyes starring into his mother's. She closed her eyelids tightly as Kendall shoved her against the wall.
"You didn't need to know Kendall!" She cried, feeling the hotness of his face radiate onto hers. Carlos had ran over, yanking Kendall back for the second time tonight. "Kendall STOP!"
"I deserved to fucking know!" Kendall screamed, falling to the floor in tears.
His insides were churning as he walked through the facility, escorted by a large man dressed in medical scrubs. Kendall decided to come alone, he and his mother not getting along lately. This hallway could have possibly been the longest Kendall had ever walked down. This place seemed too impeccably clean, and the sounds of screams passed his ears as he got further and further down the walk.
The man opened a white door for Kendall, walking in after him, locking the door with his pass card. Kendall's throat went dry, seeing his father for the first time in weeks. "Dad? It's me, Kendall,"
The man sitting at the table was dressed in a white pair of sweats, his blonde hair looking bright against the equally white walls. His hands were cuffed to the table, his ankles to the chair. He looked worn, tired, and rough. Mr. Knight didn't look up, didn't acknowledge his son. Kendall glanced back at the large man in the scrubs before sitting down across from his father.
"Dad, it's Kendall." the teen repeated, seeing his father's head finally turn up. Kendall smiled, seeing his dad's pale green eyes. "Kendall?"
"Yeah, yeah it's me!" Kendall grinned excitedly, laying his hand on top of his father's. It was silent for the longest time, besides Kendall's questions. They remained unanswered.
The visiting hours were coming to an end, Kendall's hand remaining on his dad's. "I have to go soon Dad."
"Wait," Mr. Knight finally spoke, looking extremely focused on his son's eyes. "Are...are you real?"
Kendall's heart bombed into his stomach, the full reality of this hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Yeah Dad, why would you ask that?" Kendall's eyes began to well with tears.
"Because...my friends tell me your not."
Approximately 2.4 million American adults suffer from Schizophrenia. This is a mental disorder characterized by abnormalities in the perception or expression of reality, usually manifesting itself in the form of hallucinations of imaginary people.