Medication:

Chapter Four: Tearin' My Heart Out

I don't know where he works, but I'm waiting outside his apartment building today. Behind a tree, in case they saw me this morning, I don't want them seeing me again and thinking I'm up to something. Which I am, but fuck them; they don't know what it's like for him.

I see the van pull up to the curb, and they only escort him to the door of his apartment building this time. I guess they figure he knows his way upstairs. It makes sense, though. They only go to his door in the morning to let him know they've arrived.

Jack asses. I fucking hate people.

The van drives away, screeching the tires, and I see Johnny make his way into the building. Some old man sitting on the stoop calls to him. "G'afternoon, Stewart." He says, and my eyes bug the fuck out.

Stewart?

STEWART! They fucking re-named him STEWART!

I'm going to flip the fuck out on someone, and I'm saving it for the psychologist that stripped him of his life and personality.

Sometimes I don't know why I give such a shit, but I did have a real thing for him. Even though he tried to kill me.

I miss Nny. I can hear his voice in my head. The sweet one, not the insane one. But if he's not killing people anymore...

No. No, it's Nny's WAY to kill people. The people who made him the way he is...

But, no one's being killed...Or injured, or tortured...With Nny the way he was, people got hurt. A lot of people. But now...

Now he's not the same person! Under state, he has to do what his psychologist tells him! Fuckers! They have him doped up so bad it's not even funny. One slip...Just one slip on their part...That's all it would take, and I'd imagine he'd keep them barely alive, just to torture, for years.

I fear the worst.

But maybe...

I don't know.

I just don't know.

I remember seeing it in the paper. The headline, "Gruesome Murderer Finally Caught!" see page three...

It made me shudder, and the fact that the article didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know was frustrating.

I waited for a light to turn on in the building. And a light did about three floors up. I'm guessing it's like apartment 52 or something close. I go through the door and up the staircase, and I knock on the apartment that says 52.

An old woman opens the door.

"Hello, I think I have the wrong apartment."

"Well, darlin', I know every tenant in this building. Just tell me who it is you're a-lookin' for, and I'll tell ya." She said, sweetly smiling and looking up at me.

"I'm looking for John-...I mean Stewart Smith."

"Ahhh, that sweetheart. He's a little too straight-edge and strange, if you ask me. I invited him over for a few shots of whiskey and some supper and he declined, politely, and said his therapist didn't want him drinking anything alcoholic." She said, and pointed down the hall. "Apartment 55, honey. Are you his sister?" she asked.

I played with the hem of my skirt and smiled. "Not exactly." She said, "More like and old, old friend." This lady reminded me of my grandmother...But less insane and Hispanic. This lady looked like an Irish woman.

"O...K...Thank you. Have a nice evening." I say. I think my eyes are wider than wide should actually be...They might just pop out.

A few shots of whiskey! What the HELL! Johnny didn't drink when he was insane! He would NEVER do a few shots of whiskey! But I suppose she was just trying to be hospitable. I'll let it slip.

I walk down the hall and knock on the door.

The door abruptly opens, and I want to puke right there, but I hold it down. I can't believe what he looks like. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pastel colors! This is sick, twisted, and more hideous than anything I've ever drawn, seen him draw, or read about in ANY book, and quite frankly, I think it's an insane intrusion on his personal freedoms.

"Hi." Is all I can really manage to get out of myself right now.

He just stared, wide eyed. His lips parted a little, but I don't think he was going to say anything. I just think it was some kind of shock. But I don't know what kind of shock it could be. Having a visitor, maybe? Because he can't possibly remember who I am with everything they're pumping into him.

He blinked.

I waited, nervously.

And it began.