Face Full Of Concern

You hear voices that aren't yours. They come from your head. They invade every inch of your mind. Demons and shadows live inside. They talk to you and you talk back. 

You can only trust me.  

Die.  

Die.  

You drown in an ocean of self-doubt and despair. The voice captures you and holds you hostage.   

Everyone is trying to kill you.  

Die.  

Die.  

Of course, you believe that everyone is trying to kill you. You believe everything this voice says. You're lost in your own head, trying to find a map. You block everyone you love out of your life. You feel alone and helpless.  

You’re a fool.  

Die.  

Die.   

On a bright morning you go for a run. You try to get rid of the voices in your head. They mess with you. You don’t know how to feel anymore, and the outside world is unreachable. You slowly fade into darkness. Losing grip of life. You work your way onto the bridge. Then the voice takes over.  

Jump off the bridge.  

Die.  

Die.  

You hold on to the railing as tightly as you can. Your fingers begin to turn red. “NO! NO! I CAN'T” you scream. Fear flows through your body. Everyone walking past looks in your direction. Their faces are full of concern.  

No, their faces are full of disgust.  

Die.  

Die.  

You close your eyes and try to concentrate. Try to concentrate on what's real and what's fake. The ringing in your head gets worse. Every second you wait the sound gets louder. You want it to go away. You want to be left alone. You pull your hands up to your ears to cover them. Your ears feel like a blaze of fire. You try to zone out the world. You start to scream. You start to yell.   

No one can help you.  

Die.  

Die.   

You bang your head as hard as you can. You can't take it anymore. The railing starts to vibrate, and you collapse onto the cold cement ground.   

***  

You wake up to pain shooting through your skull. “you’re going to be alright honey” a lady says to you. She has auburn shoulder-length hair. “What happened?” you ask. “Your head was badly injured. You have stitches now. You're at the hospital and I'm going to need you to rest for a while”. You agree to do so and she leaves the room with a face full of concern.   

The wound from underneath hurts as you put pressure on the stitches. Your head is rigid, rough, and in Some places bumpy. Even though pain consumes your body you start to smile. Even a tear of joy slips from your eye. It's gone. The voice that has bothered you so much is really gone. The voice that stole your life away.   

I will kill you.  

I’ll never go away.  

You will never get rid of me.  

I'll be here forever.  

The tear of joy turns into a tear of misery. Your whole body starts to shake, and you start to tremble. Demons begin to crawl out from under your hospital bed. The demons that haunt your nightmares. The demons that appear in your closets. The demons that are only visible to your eyes. The demons with black faces and cold eyes. You shut your eyes as tightly as you can and only wish for them to disappear. You reopen your eyes to see them inching closer with every second.   

I told you I'll kill you.  

Die.  

Die.  

You start to scream like never before. Your throat feels dry and cold, but you don’t stop. You scream until there's no more air inside of you. Nurses come scrambling inside the room. The demons don’t go away. They start to climb the walls. Their cold eyes fixed on you. You begin to scream once again. Suddenly you feel weak and drowsy. Before your eyes shut, you get a glimpse of a nurse hold a syringe tightly in her hand, and her face full of concern.  

***  

Your eyes flutter open, wishing this was all a nightmare. You feel exhausted and worn-out. You spend a moment examining the bandage on your arm. The place the drug was injected. You lift your head to see a guy with a notepad staring at you. He has brown bushy hair and looks much older than you. “Are you real or are you just like those demons?” You ask getting frustrated. “I'm real” he answers. His voice is calm and steady unlike yours. “Who are you then?” You ask with a slight note of curiosity. “I'm a doctor, and from what the nurses have told me you are unlike other patients we have seen-”  

This man can't help you.  

No one can help you.  

You will die.  

Die.  

“NOO STOP TALKING!” you shout, but instantly you want to reclaim the words that came from your mouth. The doctor's face is full of concern. You hate that face. The face people give you when you scream or shout. It makes you feel weak. It makes you feel needy. You have seen that expression way too many times in your life.  

“Don't worry. I'm only here to help, " he says with a kind nod.

“You're not the one I was shouting at” you reply focusing on the cream painted walls. There was no way you wanted to make eye contact with this man.    

He scribbles something down and looks back up at you. “Can you explain everything that’s going on with you?” he says with a smile.   

Answering him will be a waste of time.  

Look how fake he is  

He won't help you.  

He’ll just laugh.  

You try to ignore the voices you hear. “just say it” You silently remind yourself. You knew you would regret it if you didn’t. Nobody would ever try to help you again. This was your chance. “I hear them. I hear the voices they say I will die. They say they will kill me. That everyone will kill me. I see things. I see demons. I can't live. I can't live a normal life!” you start to tear up and soon enough your eyesight gets blurry.  

“When did this start happening?” The doctor asks, turning to the next page of his notepad.  

“It started just two months ago” you say trying to read what he has written down.   

You are stupid.  

You hideous creature.  

No one can help.  

You will die soon.  

His face brightens up as he looks up. “I know what's wrong!” he says, walking to the middle of the room to grab the tissues.  

“What is it?” you ask as you carefully take two tissues from the box he gently passes your way.  

“You have schizophrenia” he says and for the first time, you look him directly in the eyes.