In My Head ; jenlisa ff G!P {COMPLETED}

33 {FINALE}

June 26, 2024

I remember when The Half-Blood Prince came out and having to wrap my head around it. It was the angriest I've ever been. Well, the angriest I've ever been while reading a story. Like Harry hadn't been through enough already.

At least Dumbledore came back toward the end of the last book. Remember? Maybe you don't. It was at King's Cross station. That hallucination where he told Harry he had a choice. And then, when Harry asked if it was real or if everything was just happening inside his head, he said: "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

He's right, isn't he? It doesn't really matter that no one else can see what I see. That doesn't make my experiences any less real.

Real is subjective. There are a lot of things that aren't actually real to everyone. Pain, for example. It's only real to the one experiencing it. Everyone else has to take your word for it.

It's nice to know that Sabrina is never going to question whether something is real. She's never going to find herself fighting imaginary creatures or talking to people who aren't there, and before you ask me how I know that, I'll tell you. It's because crazies recognize each other. Like a secret membership to a club nobody wants to join. We can see when someone is one of us. And Sabrina is not.

You're probably going to say that she's a baby and there's no way anyone will be able to tell until she's older. I know she's a baby. But there's something solid about her. Maybe it's the fact that she's Marco's daughter. She's got his unruffled personality already. And I can tell she knows that people are depending on her to be okay. That's a lot of pressure for a baby. I hope she doesn't feel it already. I'd like to think that for now she only feels the love. From everyone. Especially me.

The rest can come later, when she's ready for it. She'll be tough enough to handle it.

They're getting excited. You know, all the people no one can see. I won't call them hallucinations anymore. It doesn't really seem fair. They're just corporeally challenged. Learned that from Harry Potter, too. J. K. Rowling is a fucking genius. Anyone who doesn't think so is crazy.

If we were still having our sessions, you'd probably be asking why the people no one else can see are getting excited. You always wanted to know more about them. I think they're probably excited because they know something is happening to me. They feel it the way old people can feel rain in their bones.

Rupert and Basil are sitting with their legs crossed, laughing at jokes no one else can hear, and the mob boss is standing with his gun, looking at the door. Only Juria looks nervous. She keeps looking at me pleadingly with her eyes full of tears. But she always looks like that these days. And that's when I take her hand and tell her that everything is going to be okay, even if other people are around. And that's because of something Jennie said when I told her about all of my imaginary friends.

"So Juria is you, essentially?" Jennie asked, straightening her glasses and lifting her head from my computer screen for the first time in hours. School is out, but she's been researching other clinical drug trials since she found out about me.

"Yeah, I guess she's essentially me," I said.

"Is she here now?" Jennie asked.

"Yep." Juria was doing a handstand against the wall while Jennie sat at my desk.

"If she's afraid and you need to comfort her, just do it," she said. The green flecks in her eyes looked brighter than usual.

"What if people are around? They'll know there's something wrong with me," I said.

"You are the only one who can make her feel better," she said, ignoring my question.

"Jennie, she's not real!" I said, trying not to laugh.

"She needs you. And she's a part of you," Jennie said simply. "Stop punishing yourself for something you can't control."

"You mean stop punishing her."

"It's the same thing, remember?" Jennie said. "Anyway, tell her it's going to be okay." Then she added, "Because I'm right here."

I reached out for her fingertips and smiled. "Guess we're lucky, then," I said.

"Yes," she conceded, turning back to the monitor. "You are."

I looked at her, letting her words hit me properly. Then I smiled.

"?'I love that you get cold when it's seventy-one degrees out,'?" I said. "?'I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts—'?" She interrupted me with a kiss before I could finish the movie line, and her face softened.

"I love you, too," she said, touching my face. "Now shut up for a minute so I can read."

—

I want you to know that I get that reading whatever is on my mind isn't an easy thing for someone else to do. It probably changes you a little, having to get into people's heads every day. I get it, and I'm glad that you were here to read this stuff because being me is actually pretty lonely.

I always made it seem like our sessions were this huge drag that I wanted to avoid, but that was a lie. They weren't. And neither were you.

You're good at your job. And even though I didn't work out the way everyone wanted me to, it wasn't your fault. It's not anybody's fault. I could've been a lot worse without you. So thanks.

Oh, and you know what I completely forgot to tell you? I sent in my Knights of Columbus essay.

Ha. Yeah, when I got back from the hospital, the packet arrived in the mail, and even though I knew I wasn't going back to that school, I thought I'd do that one last piece of homework. Just for fun. I didn't even tell Jennie I was sending it in.

So I answered their stupid question—"What is the real message of the Catholic Church?"—with a little something I picked up at St. Agatha's.

JESUS LOVES YOU.

Don't be a homo.

Rupert and Basil couldn't stop laughing when they read that. There was a definite note of pride when they clapped me on the back.

And that's all I wrote. Damn, I would have loved to have seen their wrinkly old prune faces when they read it. Of course, even if they told any of my teachers about it, the nuns would just say that I was mentally ill and they should pray for me. I prefer "crazy" to "mentally ill." Sounds more dignified.

When I walked into your office this afternoon, I hope I didn't freak you out. I hope that you don't think I started talking to you because I've given up. Because I haven't. I just realized that I don't have any reason to fight you anymore. I don't have to pretend that I don't need you or that I'm too damaged.

I also realize that all I said out loud today was, "Good news. I'm still crazy, so you still have a job." But, you know, baby steps.

Alas, adventure calls, Doc. It's been real.

But actually, I've got a train to catch.

See you on Wednesday, right?

the end.

~

I am not a doctor, and ToZaPrex is not a real drug. Lisa's experience is loosely based on documented symptoms of schizophrenia, but a great deal of creative license was taken to describe her auditory and visual hallucinations. While Lisa's story is fiction, schizophrenia is a serious and complicated disorder that affects millions of people worldwide. It is important to note that the vast majority of people battling this mental illness are not violent and do not pose a danger to others. The disorder can manifest itself in a variety of ways, and though there is no cure, there are promising treatments available.

8/18/23