That day I met him – them. That day I met them was a turning point in my life. Many people say those words – turning point in my life – then go on to tell a heart-breaking and moving story that makes you want to buy a large box of Kleenex and then rethink your life. I'm not sure that this is one of those stories. He – they. They would hate it if it was. They wouldn't want their lives to be Chicken Soup for the Deranged Soul material.
Maybe deranged is harsh. Maybe it's not.
All I'm saying is, this is a story. Nothing more, nothing less. A tale of them, and of me. But mostly him. Always him.
My parents realized one day that I had stopped eating, but kept throwing up. They realized that I had "imaginary friends" – which they considered unnatural for a 15-year-old girl for some reason. They thought there was something wrong with me so they sent me to the only place they thought they could – the nearest mental hospital. (Didn't see that one coming, did you?)
They checked me in and, feeling awkward, hugged me, said they'd call, and then left. I had seen this coming, but still – it was hard. Honestly, how could it not be? One of the nurses showed me around. She was nice, I suppose, but I didn't really care. (I will care, though, don't worry. I will care a lot.)
I was just being walked around, shown everything "important" (in other words, not necessary things like theexit, but things like the bathroom) when I saw him. Them. No, right now it was just him, alone. He was sort of just standing, contemplating life, I suppose, but when he felt me looking at him, he shifted his gaze to meet mine. He had long wavy blonde hair, past his shoulders and very light. He had deep black eyes and was so skinny. He had done something with the hospital clothes: they were black and made him look attractive, as opposed to the usually washed out and sallow looking white that everyone else wore. The black looked so natural on him that I almost didn't even notice the color at first. His eyes screamed mistrust and a barely concealed frustration. His skin was so pale…I completely loved him – those haunted eyes and perfectly aligned hair. The black against his white skin.
The nurse, apparently thinking I was an obedient puppy, still thought I was following her, unless she liked giving tours of the psych ward to herself.
I was lost in those eyes, lost and intrigued by their deep dark loveliness.
He stared me down until he couldn't take it anymore. "Will you stop looking at me? I think I'm gonna blister."
I giggled – which was precisely the wrong reaction, apparently. He blew up. (You may think that I'm describing his emotions here. But you would've thought he was going to spontaneously combust, too, if you had seen those pale cheeks turn angry red as quickly as I did.)
"Where the hell do you get off laughing at me? You just, waltz in here, stare me down, then laugh at me?"
He was so confident – oh, he was so perfect.
"You're just like everybody else – fucking thinking that I'm just that insane kid to laugh at. Fuck off. I don't care about anything, and I don't need anything, especially a complete stranger laughing at –"
He stopped suddenly. That more than anything threw me off. He turned and walked into a room, shutting the door. But he was so calm in doing so. That scared me. He could yell and swear and I would be fine, but – no one could change emotions that quickly.
The nurse, finally realizing that I wasn't there with her, ran back and made me move on. In the middle of her explaining when meals were served, I asked her who the volatile boy in black was.
"If he was wearing black, he's one of the Mihaels. What did he act like?"
As I described his behavior, she explained, "Oh, we call him Mellow – since he's so emotional. I wouldn't go too near Mellow, if I were you."
Mellow. How witty. I rolled my eyes. I realized that the nurse was still talking, and I wanted as much information about Mellow as I could.
"…Mihael himself isn't too bad - he can cause some trouble, though. M can be smug and annoying, but otherwise he's okay. Mellow, though – watch out!"
I paused, realizing something odd in the way she was talking about them. "What do you mean? I don't…get it."
The nurse laughed. "Of course, you don't know. Mihael Keehl has multiple personality disorder."