AN: Okay. I'm not entirely sure I like the end. Meh. Thanks to RennC, PixieJenn, Antonio, fantcfan, and Eris for the reviews! *looks around* Where's Crow? This story has his girl in it . . . Mayhaps I need to tell him about it . . . .
Annette had long since given up on trying to have a conversation with her daughter will she was on the medication. At the best of times, she was like one of her porcelain dolls. Empty. Only moving because she had to. Other times, she would lash out at anyone for anything. And then there were the nightmares. Once those started, they would stop the medication, since the drugs made the dreams worse.
Annette glanced at her daughter while they were at a stop light. Kylie hadn't moved since she had gotten her in the car. Her hands were resting in her lap, her long fingers curled over her palms, as her body leaned away from the door. She stared out the windshield, but her mother knew she wasn't seeing anything.
The car ride to New York was a quiet one. As were all the car rides with her daughter. They were going to meet her new psychiatrist. He was supposed to be good, but Annette doubted it.
No one managed to do anything for Kylie. All they ever said was her daughter had schizophrenia, and the only thing that would work for it was medication. It was supposed to make her better, but all it did was turn her into a husk. There wasn't anything on the inside. Perhaps that was a good thing, though. Kylie could never draw while she was medicated. Her hands wouldn't work right.
Her daughter was to start school on Monday. Today was Friday, so giving her two days without the drugs should give her enough time to recover enough to go. But that depended on the new doctor.
~*~*~*~*~*
"Kylie, the doctor will see you now."
Annette held her breath as the faintest flicker of anger showed in her daughter's eyes. It disappeared just as quickly, and the teen stood, following the redhead.
It had taken her parents a few years before they realized Kylie reacted better to these meetings when she talked to the psychiatrist by herself. So Annette stayed in the waiting room and continued reading.
Kylie kept her face blank, her mind locked behind the walls she had learned to build to keep her sane. She was very much aware of what the drugs did to her body. She could almost swear she could feel the threads of her life unraveling at the end, shortening her life. She knew when she forgot something, even though it happened not more than five minutes ago. That was what she hated the most. The memory loss and the shortened life expectancy. It made her feel as if her life was restricted to a slim window of time. With nothing to show for it.
But she'd only have to wait a few more days before she could draw again. Kylie had been in the middle of one before her "relapse".
The teen carefully kept her face neutral as the redhead opened the office door for her and motioned her inside. Her head down, Kylie sat in the plush red armchair in front of the desk. Couldn't shrinks be original? Why not a black chair? Or purple?
"Good morning, Kylie."
Kylie glanced up at the male voice. "What's up, doc?" she said, her voice flat. The teen quickly took in the room and her new doctor, her eyes flicking to land on everything. It was a typical shrink's office. Dark bookshelves filled with books (boring, no doubt) lined the walls. Framed ink blots on the wall where available. Finally, she stopped on her doctor. God he was fat. Black hair slicked back, probably dyed, and he wore a black suit, black tie, and white button down shirt. He smiled, his eyes disappearing in the fat of his face. Kylie kept her face blank.
"You can call me Otho," he said after the short silence. Otho flipped through the file on his desk. "Now, it says here you suffer from schizophrenia, and you take Trilofan for it. Correct?" He waited for her response, but she didn't offer anything. "Very well, Miss Kylie. How about we simply get to know each other? What are your interests?"
Silence.
Otho's smile faltered. "Where do you live?"
"Winter River."
Kylie took a deliciously evil glee when the man paled.
"Where in Winter River?"
"The house on the hill."
She blinked when he stood up abruptly and took her arm, hauling her back to the waiting room. When her mother saw them, she stood too, worry on her face.
"Mrs. Wright, how about next Saturday? Same time?" He smiled while he asked, but Kylie could hear the sudden fear in his voice. There was something at her new house that scared the shit outta this guy. Hopefully, she could keep her stuff together in order to remember it.
"Um, of course," Annette replied, her gaze flicking from Otho to her daughter.
Kylie slipped out of his hold and stood before him. She bowed slightly, glad she decided to wear her dark red tank top, and smirked. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Otho," she said quietly. The teen wanted to laugh at the sudden panic in his eyes. After they had flicked back to her face, of course. This was fun! She loved these random bouts of lucidity.
"Okay, Kylie," her mother said, taking her daughter's arm. "We have to go get your uniforms."
Kylie looked at her mother, then back at Otho, brow furrowed. "Mama-chan, where am I?"
"Sweetheart, we're at the doctor's. Now we have to go get your uniforms for school. Okay?"
Kylie nodded, her face once more turning into a doll's, and she let her mother lead her away.
~*~*~*~*~*
He didn't even bother cleaning up anymore. When the bastards woke up, they could deal with it. He just wanted to make 'em bleed.
Fifteen fuckin' years. Just makin' 'em fuckin' bleed.
And now he was bored. What was the point anymore? Sure, he liked doing things for himself, but it was since to have someone to tell about it. Swap ideas, that kinda shit.
"Not the fuck anymore," he muttered, slamming open the door to the Roadhouse. "Not since Lyds fuckin' bailed on me." He kicked the door closed behind him.
He glanced at the couch. He didn't wanna sit. He wanted to do something! Naw, he just wanted fuckin' Out! But that required a breather stupid—
He jerked to a stop at the sudden fire running down his spine. Someone was summoning him. What luck!
"Showtime!" Betelgeuse grinned as the summoning pulled him through the worlds.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Kylie dropped her towel on the floor, not caring that it was wet, and slipped into her short, red, silky robe. The medication wasn't wearing off, but bubble baths had always helped her regain lucidity for a little while. And since she wasn't use to the new bathroom yet, the adrenaline was still pumping from her irrational fear of bathrooms.
Something had scared Otho earlier that day, and she was fighting to bring that memory back. Kylie picked up the paper she had found in her closet and fell in her bed. There were tons of words on it, but most of them were scratched out. The last line said "If you ever feel like killing yourself say Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice." But Kylie didn't want to kill herself. So she read the first bit that got scratched out.
If you ever feel like you're alone, like no one could ever understand, and all you need is a friend who doesn't care that you're not like everybody else then say Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.
It was corny, but that was why she liked it.
"Beetlejuice Beetlejuice Beetlejuice," she said softly.
~*~*~*~*~*
When Betelgeuse rematerialized and realized he was in her room, his good mood instantly vanished, and his grin was replaced with a scowl. He was gonna fuckin' slaughter some . . . body . . . .
"Stupid piece of paper," he heard her say, tossing said paper to the side. Damn, if the hem of that robe was up just a couple more inches . . . . She sighed, rolling over onto her back, and Betelgeuse silently cursed his luck as he, once again, just needed it a few inches higher. Her eyes were closed, arms lying above her head.
Damn, she could feel herself slipping. These moments were harder to come by and harder to hold on to. There was something she wanted to remember . . . and now she couldn't even remember why she wanted to remember it in the first place. This was so goddamn frustrating!
"Fuckin' cocktease."
Kylie's eyes flew open, and she bolted upright.
The . . . thing before her stared at her.
And his eyes were nowhere near hers.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!"
Kylie looked down at herself and yelped, clutching her robe closed, and twisted her legs under her. "Pervert!" she spat.
"Hey now, kitten, ya can't be blamin' a guy fer admirin' the view," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.
She glared him, his black and white striped suit dirty and rumpled, wild hair a pale blond and almost green at the roots. Kylie's eye twitched as she noticed green patches on his temple and neck. His skin was deathly pale, black circles around his eyes. Eyes that had yellow whites, and irises of bright green. Eyes that had more than a glint of insanity. Eyes that were most likely undressing her.
Shit.
AN: *shrugs* There we go . . .