Schizoid

:.Personification.:

Start the song in the media. It's Home Is Such A Lonely Place by blink-182. Things are getting spicy in the world of Schizoid. 

After the MRI scan, Tyler is lying on the bed of his cell as I sit in the corner, feeling smaller and more stupid than ever. The boy is chatting away with one of his 'neighbors', a British man named Oli. The foreigner is excitedly asking Tyler about his trip to the asylum.

"Did you see her?" Oliver asks, his voice flooding over with exhilaration. "You saw Harley?"

"Yeah," Tyler says, his voice quiet. "She was scary."

Oli laughs, running his hand through his greasy locks and adjusting himself on the flat bed. "Well, I think she's hot. I met her before the Joker did. Back then she wasn't so," he circles his fingers around his temples, "you know, off. I never thought she'd get caught."

"So even then, she was..." Tyler trailed off.

"Killing people?" Oli asked, darting out his tongue and sucking on his canine tooth. "Yeah. But she was more human. The Joker changed her."

Silence hung between them as I sat, battling my unhappiness. I am usually a believer, and I've always claimed that I'd fight to the end; that I'd ruin him if it was the last thing I'd do. But the end is coming sooner than I'd imagined and I can't do anything but sulk and pout and curse Jenna Black and Mark Eshleman for destroying my plan and murdering my dreams. This feeling is foreign to me. Anger, anger I know. I've spent my entire existence ticked off. Frustration, I know that as well. But this... this sadness, this helplessness, it's new to me. I've seen Tyler sad, he'd sit in his dorm room for hours on end in a state of pure misery. He'd eventually write a song about it, and his feelings would subside. Even so, he spent an irritating amount of time being sad. There were so many other things he could have been doing, yet he chose to do nothing. He chose unhappiness. He wasted time being depressed. It's yet another reason he doesn't deserve his life.

"Josh," Tyler calls, still lying flat on his back on the thin pad of the mattress.

"What?"

"Are you doing this on purpose?" I hesitate. Is it time to give up the front? "Please," he says, as if reading my mind, "just tell me the truth. I'm done with lies, sick of telling them, sick of hearing them, sick of telling them, sick of hearing them..." he trails off, staring at the ceiling.

I run my hand over the tattoos on my right arm. "Yeah. It was on purpose," I tell him, my gaze fixated on the wall in across from me.

He sighs. "Why would you do that? I trusted you!"

"Tyler, you were stupid to ever trust me. I hate you with everything within me. From the day you created me, I've wanted nothing more than for you to suffer. You never should have trusted me, but you did. So now you're here. Orphaned. Pathetic. You did that."

"You made me!" Tyler screeches. I think he's sat up by now, but I'm still focused on the wall. Oli and his other cell neighbor, Frank, are telling him to shut up. Frank mutters something about Tyler being crazy. He doesn't seem to care. Neither do I. He is crazy.

"I'm nothing but a voice in your head. I can't hit you, I can't hurt you, and I can't make you walk off a bridge or push you into traffic no matter how bad I want to. I can't do anything but talk. You choose to listen. Whose fault is that?"

"You tricked me. You used me. You lied to me and manipulated me and you made me hurt people! I've hurt so many people and it's all your fault! I'm getting rid of you! I don't want you here anymore!" Tyler stands, tears streaming down his face. Even though he's crying, there's no sadness in his eyes. There's hurt... and frustration... and anger. He tugs at his hair.

And something inside me clicks.

I stand, nearly jumping to my feet. "You can't get rid of me," I say.

"Yes, I can."

"No, Tyler, you don't understand. I'm you. You... you're me." I try to explain.

"You're not making any sense-"

"Well then shut up and let me finish. I am literally everything that you're not. I'm angry, bold, opinionated, and I hate everything. I am the personification of every emotion and character trait that you try to suppress. You need me to keep you balanced. I'm your other half."

There's a silence as Tyler scrutinizes me. He seems uncertain, but I can tell that he'd beginning to come around.

"How do I know you're not lying again?"

"You just... you just need to trust me..." I say, my voice losing its convincing tone as I realize the foolishness of my words.

Tyler snorts and folds his arms. "I've trusted you for six years. Yeah. That totally makes me feel better."

"Don't talk to me like that," I snarl. "I know it doesn't make much sense, but it's true. I'm supposed to be here. I still hate you. I always will. The day I don't is the day that I'm unnecessary. But... I will be honest with you. That's as much as I can give you."

"I still don't believe you," Tyler says, uncrossing his arms and returning to sit on his bed.

"I didn't ask for your support," I snap. "You asked me to be honest, and I was. It's not my fault that you don't have good deductive skills."

"My deduction is fine," Tyler says in his normal tone of voice: light, almost melodic, and quiet. "It's just a little hard to trust someone who's spent the last six years hating me and will make no effort to change that. But if what you're saying is true... if me getting rid of you would be ultimately a bad decision, we'll know soon enough. After the trial, assuming I win, I'll keep in touch with Mark. And if I ever notice you trying to hurt me, even in the slightest, I'm going to get rid of you. No matter what the side effects are." He stops for a moment, clearly pondering something. "If you really think your purpose is to keep me balanced, then prove it. Help me and Jenna win this case."

"I hate her," I comment. "I hate her a lot. Like..." I trail off, trying to put my thoughts into words. "If I had a body, I would kill her. I would literally murder her, and I would probably tape it, too. I'd watch her die over and over-"

"If the point of your existence is to help me, then help me."

Tyler looks at me, blinking his eyes slowly, calmly, deliberately. I sigh, a loud exhale that brings up the corners of Tyler's lips. He knows that I've surrendered, that he's won. Still, I break the silence, muttering out, "Fine."

Tyler lies back on his bed, closing his eyes and repeating the five words from earlier. "Sempiternal, infinite, regional, revenge, collide."

"What're you doing?" Frank asks, cocking his head and coming closer to the bars that divide him Tyler.

"It's a game," Tyler explains. Oli perks up a little, listening in. "We played it when I went down to the asylum. There's these five words: sempiternal, infinite, regional, revenge, and collide. And then you have to do math problems and try to remember the words."

"Sempiternal," Oli repeats. "What does it mean?"

"Everlasting," Frank answers, sounding a little triumphant at his knowledge.

"That's a pretty word," the Brit comments.

"I like 'revenge'," the shortest of the three men adds.

"Of course you do, Frank," Oli says with a dark laugh.Tyler turns his head a little to look at me. I stare back, watching him breathe deeply. It's uncomfortable; I just want him to say or do something instead of just look at me like an idiot. But eventually, he stares up at the ceiling again and falls asleep, thrusting me into unconsciousness along with him. 

Thanks so much to everyone who avidly reads this story, it means more than you think.