Fairies and Frenchmen

Chapter One

A bunny was flying around my classroom. A mint bunny. Another trick of the eyes. Another thing that no one else can see. It was a cute bunny. I smiled as I stared at the bunny flying around my teachers head. "Arthur!" She shouted at me.
"Y-yes, ma'am?!" I panicked and looked at her normally.
"It would be nice if you could focus during class and on taking your notes," she said, frustration and annoyance in her tone.
"I-I'm sorry...it's just...something was flying around your head..." I mumbled and looked down at my paper.
"Flying around my head-...oh." She stopped talking. She knew about my condition, and why I often see things that weren't there. "Well...what ever it is can wait, Mr. Kirkland," she said, sympathetically.
"Yes, ma'am," I mumbled as I began taking my notes, different things scattering themselves amongst the blank page. I blinked, trying to will them away. At least they weren't terrifying things. Just random stuff. Like...little rice balls, mochis I think is what my sorta-friend, Kiku Honda, called them, with faces of my other classmates.
"You misspelled that~!" Came a singsong voice, similar to my own. Oliver was back.
"Go away, you freckled freak," I whispered. I didn't want to deal with his bullshit today.
"But Artie!" He pouted. I looked at his two-toned blue eyes and his pink hair.
"Don't call me that," I whispered so no one could hear. Oliver wasn't here, but he was gonna get me in trouble.
"Then just talk to me normally!" He whined. I just looked back at my paper, and kept writing my notes down. "Arthur! Arthur!!"
I scowled as he spoke. Stupid Oliver.
"ARTHUR!" He screamed in my ear, and I winced. I kept writing, and ignoring him as he screamed at me. This was a daily occurrence, so it doesn't bother me anymore. It still hurts my ears though.

Once class was over, I ran to the cafeteria for lunch, hoping for Oliver to go away. He didn't. But, once I sat down, and he sat next to me, I pulled out my drawing book. Then, I started drawing Oliver. The main source of my misery. "Oh, and you say you hate me~! And I love that my shadow is a demon~!" He grinned as he watched me draw. Then, I started writing.
"One of the biggest psychopaths I've ever seen. He poisons people with cupcakes, enjoys screaming at me, trying to get me to hurt myself or others...he scares me because he's not so horrid that he can appear even when I'm on my meds, and still scream at me," I wrote underneath him.
"Arthur~! You flatter me~!" He pretended to blush, and batted his eyes.
"Shut up," I whispered, as I turned the page of my book. I began to softly mumble as I so often did.
"Artie~? I can't hear you!" Oliver said in his annoying sing-song voice.
"Shut up," I muttered and I started drawing everything I've been seeing that wasn't really there.
"You're no fun," Oliver whined, and disappeared.
"Thank god," I whispered as I continued to draw. My thoughts simply flowed out onto the page. All in the form of art. I do this everyday. My sketchbooks and notebooks are full of drawings of all my hallucinations. It helps me cope. My sketchbooks from 6th grade are the scariest. That's when my schizophrenia first developed. I didn't have meds, so almost all of my hallucinations were evil. Oliver was still there, just...scarier. He had sharper teeth, was almost always covered in blood, and just...horrifying. I shuddered at the memories from before I got my medication and diagnosis. But...before my schizophrenia developed, I had a lot of friends. Alfred F. Jones, the star athlete, his twin brother, Matthew, Francis Bonnefoy, the biggest flirt ever, and several others. After that....I just....stopped talking to them.
"You think it's my fault, don't you, Eyebrows?" Oliver muttered. Great.
"Your eyebrows are as bad as mine. Go away," I scowled and discreetly flipped him off.
"Fine! Even though I'm the only one who will talk to you," he pouted and left again.
"Asshole," I muttered.

I hate Oliver and how right he was.

Later that day, as I walked home, I was minding my own business and reading, again, when I crashed, quite literally, into someone. "G-Gah! I'm sorry!" I blushed slightly as I went to grab my book and help the person with their things.

"It's okay, dude!" Came an obnoxious reply. I looked up, and saw Alfred F. Jones. My ex-bestfriend. "Arthur? Dude, what's up??" He grinned.

"N-nothing," I stuttered, "Just walking home," I said softly.

"Artie~? You actually got someone to talk to you~?" Oliver sang as he appeared again.

"Cool. Want me to walk with you?" Alfred asked me, unable to see Oliver as he pulled out a knife and attempted to slash Alfred's throat. My meds were wearing off, and I had forgotten to bring them to school so I couldn't take my lunchtime dosage. Oh God...

"No!" I cried as Oliver cut Alfred's throat, and he fell down, bleeding. He was limp as if he was a ragdoll. Oliver had killed the first person I got to talk to in months, other than my teachers. I felt tears stream down my face as I ran away, repeating to myself, "It's not real! It's not real!"

"Oh, but it is, my dear, Arthur~," Oliver purred.

"It's not real! It's not real! It's nOT REAL!!!" I shouted as I ran inside my house, and broke down in my bedroom.

"Arthur?!" Came my mother's panicked voice. "Arthur, honey, are you okay?" She asked me from the otherside of my door, which I had locked in my desperate attempt to get away from Oliver.

"Should I answer it~? Or should I simply make her shut up the way I did with Alfred~?" Oliver said, still with that obnoxious tone.

"Stop it!" I screamed at him, "Just go away!!"

"Arthur open the door!" My mother cried.

"Alice? What's wrong?" Came my father's voice, and I heard them discuss the situation.

"Well Arthur? Choose~!" Oliver said.

Then, my dad finally unlocked and opened the door for both him and my mom. "Arthur!" My mother cried, and hugged me, while my dad found my medication, and phoned the doctor.

Oliver didn't come back for the rest of the night.

(A/N: This is my first time writing a story like this, so please, be gentle. I feel so awful for all those people suffering from schizophrenia. To me, it would be the scariest thing to experience. I hope that I portrayed what it is like to have schizophrenia in an accurate way, and I am praying that I didn't offend anyone. Constructive criticism is welcome, and ideas for the story are as well.

~Otaku-Kun)