SCHIZO

One

Music is good. It calms them. I think they like it, because they shut up. I wish my life was like a movie, where background music played all the time. But this isn't a movie, even I was positive of that. I'm sure that all I can be positive of.
My headphones are in, playing the soft voice of Lana Del Rey into my head. I only want to hear her voice now. My eyes are closed, and I imagine sweet things. Just sweet things. Peaches, palm trees, and happiness.
Those were always my go-tos. They were special. Things I had before.
Peaches were--and still are--my favorite snack. I eat them all the time.
I would go to the beautiful Venice Beach every weekend and take photos of the palm trees. My favorite things to take photos of. I haven't been down to the beach in a while.
Happiness. Something I don't have anymore. Something they took away from me.
Don't think of them. Don't think of them.
"Ashley, get up. Therapy time." I could feel myself being shaken back and forth vigorously.
"Mom?" I groan. I needed to be sure it was her. We have a signal.
"Pancakes for breakfast." She said. There it was. I shot up out of the bed and hugged her.
"Are you okay sweetie?" She asked, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Yes," I nodded, smiling. I was happy. They haven't shown up yet.
"I'll make breakfast, you get ready for Therapy Group." She turns around and closes the door behind her.
I jump off my bed and open the closet, pulling out a plain white tee and a pair of light blue skinny jeans. I could care less on how I look.
I shimmy into the jeans and button them, then throw on the shirt and slide on my pair of dark brown moccasins. I pick up a brush and get all the knots out of my hair. My make up bag is on the floor next to my long mirror, and I consider picking it up and applying just a touch, but I decide against it.
I open my door and hop down the steps and slide into the kitchen. Mom already has a plate of pancakes ready for me. 'Pancakes for breakfast' may be our signal that she's real, but she always makes them whenever I have Therapy Group.
I sit down and begin to slice. Mom pulls out a chair and sits across from me.
"How are they?" She asks.
"What? The pancakes or the voices?" I seriously reply.
"The voices."
I pause, then smile. "They're good. Calm. Haven't said anything yet today." I spoke quickly, wanting to get my mind off of them. She got the hint and stopped talking.
I finished my breakfast and quickly brushed my teeth. Mom was waiting at the door with her purse in hand. "Let's go."
The minute the car started I turned up the radio. I didn't want them before Therapy.
My therapy group is a group run by a man named Anthony Gross. People with all problems go there. Mental problems, that is. It's in a room in a church which isn't used for anything besides extra seats. We all sit together in a circle and Anthony begins by telling us his story of how he was diagnosed with depression as a young boy but he was saved from things such as suicide, then we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and state why we're there. Anthony usually has us pair up and work on activities. It's not a bad thing for the most of us. The kids who're antisocial with an anxiety disorder get it the worst. None of us really volunteered to go there, we were ordered by doctors. If I had things my way, I definitely wouldn't be in the car on my way to a therapy group.
"We're here." I look out the window at the big beige church. I turn to mom and nod.
"You have fun okay? I'll be waiting here when you get out." She gives me a sympathetic look and puts her hand on my leg.
"Love you," I say, and get out of the car, closing the door behind me.
I approached the doors and trace the outline of the gold cross-shaped door handle.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep male voice said behind me. I jump and turn around.
I see a handsome boy who looks about my age, 17, with blonde hair styled up in the front. His blue eyes are mesmerizing and he stops biting his lip, revealing he has a lip ring.
Dammit. Is he real or fake? I bring up my hand to touch his arm. Real. The boy didn't flinch. He just smiled.
I didn't say a word and tuned back around to open the door. I quickly walked up a few stairs and found the room. I sat in my usual seat by the window and watched at people piled in. I knew they were real. I recognized them. My eyes suddenly caught the blonde-haired boy. He was talking to a boy named Calum Hood. They sat across the circle from me, and Anthony came in and sat next to Calum. He was ready to begin.
"Okay everyone, let's get settled!" Anthony smiled while clapping his hands together. Everyone quiets down. He starts out with the usual "My name is Anthony Gross, I was diagnosed with depression at 13, my friends and family help me through it, now I want to help you through your tough times." Then he starts going around the circle and everyone introduces himself. He begins with Calum. I already know Calum. 17, bipolar, diagnosed since 14. I was interested in the boy next to him.
"Luke Hemmings." He boomed. Luke Hemmings.
"17 years old. I have depression. I was diagnosed when I was 11 years old. Unlike you, Mr. Gross, I get through it myself." Himself? Doesn't he have family? Friends? I kept my eyes on him, and he noticed. He kept looking back at me. Before I knew it, it was my turn. I stood up and cleared my throat.
"Ashley Dunn. 17 years old. Schizophrenia. Diagnosed when I was 15. Unable to tell if this, or if any of you, are real or not." That's all I had to say. I sat down.
"Good, good. Now, let's get into groups. Who interested you the most? Whoever it was pair with them. Go."
Damn. Luke was the only one who caught my attention, of course. He's the only new one.
I look around, desperate to find someone.
"I'm real." I hear a deep voice say behind me. I turn around to see Luke Hemmings.
"I'm real. I'm Luke Robert Hemmings. You're Ashley Dunn, my partner."
"Uh-" is all I could get out.
"Well, I told you my middle name. You tell me yours. You've got one, right?" His beautiful blue eyes are questioning.
"Marie." I reply.
"Ashley Marie Dunn. Beautiful name." He smiles. Even his teeth are perfectly white and straight.
"So, Ashley, schizophrenia since 15. Must be hard, those voices."
I don't say anything, just nod. I don't want to think of them. They haven't spoken to me yet, and I don't want them too.
It's finally time for us to be released. I see my mom the minute I open the church doors.
"Luke, I need to go. I'm sorry." I tell Luke, who was kind enough to walk out with me. For a depressed guy, he sure had a lot to say.
"Of course," he flashes me the beautiful smile."I'll see you soon."
I turn around and begin to make my way to the car when he calls my name again.
"Oh, Ashley?" I face him and he grabs my arm a bit tightly.
"I'm real."

-

Brand new story! I really hope you enjoy it, because I'm working really hard on it! Thanks!!
Cover credit to Wildcliffford

**I AM FULLY AWARE THIS BEGINNING IS SIMILAR TO THE FAULT IN OUR STARS BUT THE STORY IS NOT THANKS**