These are actual medications.

Renji might think that I can't hear through walls. And yeah, I can't, if they're thick walls.

But I can hear through the wall between our room and the bathroom. It's thin plaster, you see.

And even with the fan on, even with the water running, I can hear him.

Animalistic noises of pleasure, moans, groans, shouts of ecstasy. Sounds of passion. Of pleasure.

Every. Single. Night.

But last night. Last night.

I was studying for my English literature examination. The textbooks were on my bed, open to the pages.

I was writing notes down in my notebook. And I heard this shout, a shout that made my pen drag across the paper in a streak of azure ink.

"Byakuya!"

My name.

Coming from behind the shower walls.

The person in the shower at that point in time was Renji.

What do I do?

I mean, this is like saying, "Yeah, I've got a roommate that's a murderer, and he wants to rape me."

No. It's not LIKE saying, it IS saying.

I'm screwed. I will be, literally, if I don't do something soon.

Did you know that Renji's supposed to be on meds? I say supposed to, and you'll find out why shortly.

I was looking through the medicine cabinet one night for Advil, and I stumbled upon the orange bottles.

Six of them, to be exact. All bearing Renji's name in bold-faced, Times New Roman size 12 font.

Lithium and Tegretol for mood stabilizing. Helping him not be too manic, but not too depressive, either.

Prozac and Lamictal for treating depression.

And, scariest of all.

Zyprexa and Abilify for psychosis.

Psychosis.

I'm living with a psychotic murderer with mood swings and suffering from depression.

So not only did he kill someone, now he's psychotic, too.

Fabulous.

I went to the American Medical Association's online website. I knew I wasn't going to get any studying done.

Typing in the names of the medications in the bathroom, I came to realize that these were medicines that helped treat schizoaffective disorder.

"The disorder usually begins in early adulthood and is rarely diagnosed in childhood."

"The individual may sleep too much, or, most often, not be able to sleep at all."

But even though the symptoms fit, that wasn't the scariest part of the whole thing.

All six of the bottles were full to the brim. Unopened. Even though the date on the labels says he got them over six months ago.

He's not taking his meds.

"If psychosis is left untreated, the individual may experience delusions."

"The individual may believe an outside force is controlling them."

"The individual may have hallucinations, causing them to believe that something is there when there is nothing."

"Individuals with untreated schizoaffective disorder may experience bizarre or unusual behavior."

Somehow, I can't help but think that this is an excuse.

An excuse for him to kill me, and then blame it on mental instability.

And the court would accept that.

Because "those who are mentally unstable are not held criminally accountable for their actions."

And they would let him go.

A murderer.

It would be so easy for him to murder me. Have his way with me, then kill me.

All the supplies are at his fingertips, and he's got every advantage he could possibly have over me.

But why is he waiting?