The Son of Solangelo (This is bonus stuff)

Chapter Fifteen: The Pain of the Brain

I look at my therapist, who is writing down my behavior like she always does. It's about three weeks sense the cave.

It makes me feel violated that she does all this. She writes down how I react to questions and my answers, and uses that information to tell my parents. She treats me not like a human, but as just another test subject in her daily life. She sees kids like me often, that have mental illnesses and such. I hate it so much, honestly. I hate her and her stupid clip board. I hate her personal questions about me and what I see. I hate it when she refers to Dan as my "Imaginary friend"  or just treating him like he doesn't exist, or the way she wrinkles her nose when I assured her he was real. The way she sat and stared at me when I hit her last time. The way she had a straight face like it was normal for people to slap her, which is good for me because I wish everyone would slap that stupid face of hers.

I wonder if everyone hates their therapists. I wonder if all of them are like her.

She snaps her fingers, which brings me out of my thoughts. "What were you thinking about?"

"Umm..." I think up a lie, because 'how much I hate you' isn't a polite thing to say to a person. "I was thinking about Dan." Which wasn't a lie, because I at one point, I was thinking about him.

"What about Daniel?"

"Umm... I was thinking about how he was real." I saw simply, trying to get her to get off of the subject.

"For the last time, Dan isn't real. He's a piece of your imagination. He doesn't exist to anyone else, and that's how it is! Your friend is fake."

I try my very best not to slap her. I want to so so bad. She insulted Daniel, who was sitting next to me, a hurt look on his face. His hand moved to my shoulder, giving me a sudden jolt of warmth and comfort.

"She's a liar. It's just because she can't see me, but you can. That means your special." He boops my nose.

"I'm sorry, did I say something?" She asks, and I realize I was blushing.

"No. It was Daniel, who is very much real. Papa believes in him. Dad believes in him. And I believe in him. He might not be real to you, but he is to me. And he's a good friend that's always helping me when I'm in need of help. He's my third friend in my entire life. He means a lot to me, and you keep telling me he's not real. You might not see him, but he's there! You know why you close your eyes when you cry, when you kiss, when you freaking sneeze? Because the best things in life, you can't see!"

She keeps a straight face. "Take these pills to your parents." She hands me a small bottle full of small white tablets. 

She exits the room, leaving me alone with Daniel.

*****

After being sent to bed, I walk into my room. Mrs. O'Leary Jr. is sprawled on my bed, and Daniel is sitting in the chair to my desk. I wave to them, and Daniel waves back.

"What's wrong?" He asks, standing up.

"Nothing... I just... I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Do what? Jack! You have to do this, you can be strong for just a little longer. PLEASE!"

"I-I can't... I haven't seen Melody sense the cave incident, my therapist quit, I don't have a school, everyone hates me... and I get why. I'm an awful person that ends up chasing everyone they care about away! That's all I'll ever be good for..."

"Jack..." Tears are dancing in his eyes. "I'm sorry... I was supposed to protect you and keep you alive... and I'm failing so far. I'm sorry for being such an awful friend. If you would rather be dead than with me, I understand..."

I start to cry. "That's not what I meant..."

"I'm so sorry, okay? I'm sorry for everything I've done. Just please don't leave." he grips the back of my shirt, deepening the hug. "I love you so much... and at first I was just here to make you happy, but I've grown to care about you and love you... and I blame myself for that. I shouldn't have grown to attached to someone who had a bad record of suicidal thoughts..."

"Did you know that 60 percent of male people with schizophrenia have attempted suicide at least once? And I was already thinking it... I was already going to kill myself before..."

"Jack. Do what you want with your life. It's yours and if you can't fight anymore, and you want to put yourself out of your misery, you may do so. It's your life. I'm just saying that it would tear your parents and me and Mrs. O'Leary Jr. to shreds. Your parents love you SO much! Your dog practically lives for you. You are my life, Jack. I was supposed to protect you, and I could never forgive myself if you killed yourself. It's my fault. It's all my fault..."

"No it's not."

"I'm sorry for bot being the perfect boy that could make you happy." He says, turning his head away. "Go ahead. Do it. End your misery. Throw us down with you, why don't you. Because that's what you're doing when you kill yourself." He says, and I start to cry even harder, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I look at him sadly, and he sighs. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He says, and then randomly disappears, leaving me alone with no one but my dog, and my thoughts. I collapse onto the floor, and wrap my legs to my chest. 

I pull out my cutting knife door, and pull out the sharpest one. I make a small dent onto my skin. opening a few old scars. I cut again, saying words in my head that would describe me. 

Worthless
Insecure
Stupid
Selfish
Unwanted
Unneeded
Alone
Sad
Depressing

Then I move onto sentences.

Nobody wants you.
Nobody needs you.
You're just an emo kid.
You're just that one kid with the mental illness.
Nobody would care if you hurt yourself.
All you do is hurt others.
End your pain.
Do the world a favor and die already.
Press the knife deeper.
Make it hurt.
Take in the pain.
You deserve it.

I make a deeper cut through the sentences, and the blood streams down. I look up to see Leary licking the blood off. I look at her thankfully. 

Another tear drips from my eyes, and I try to blink them away. 

I look down at my knife. It's enough to cut through my skin. I could cut through my heart and die. It'd be quick. Full of pain. The pain I deserve. 

Then I remember Dan's words: Throw us down with you, why don't you? That's what you do when you kill yourself.

I drop the knife, and let it fall onto the floor. I bite my lip hard, and press my head into my knees and cry.

I hear the door crack open, and a figure appears. It looks down at me, and sighs. "Jack..." It was the voice of my dad, calm and slightly deeper and smoother than my papa's.

He sits down next to me, and wraps his arm around my shoulders, and positions himself, putting my head into his chest and holding me there. I wince as his shirt brushes against my cuts and reopened scars.

"Oh... my gods..." He says, as he notices my wrists. "Why did I never notice before..."

"It's not your fault... I'm the one who cut-"

"No. I'm your father and I should have... I should have not let you hurt yourself."

I cry into his chest, hoping he isn't mad at me for cutting and hurting myself. I hurt him, by letting him see. I wear two long sleeved shirts underneath a jacket to hide my wrists. I know, I could just simply cut higher or something, but... I prefer to stay to my wrists. I don't even know why...

I don't remember falling asleep, but I do remember my dream.