Schizoid

:.Sweet.:

Start the song in the media. It's hell is where I dreamt of you and woke up alone by Blackbear.

I look over at the tally marks scratched into the wall, counting them to pass the time. I had etched them in for the first 762 days of my incarceration, but stopped. What was the point? I’m going to be here forever. The noise outside the cell is louder than ever; screams, groans, and the occasional moan filling the air.

I close my eyes, leaning against the wall opposite of the tally marks. I hate it here. Dare I say that I miss my old life? I miss the routine of the life I used to live with Tyler.

Oh God, Tyler.

I miss him.

The innocence that often became gullibility. The kindness that I took advantage of. My sweet boy. All the things I could have done, all the choices I could have made and instead I chose to kill him.

The sound of someone edging their way to my cell snaps me out of my thoughts. My eyes flick up.

Here she was again, the wild blonde whose name I never bothered to learn. She wears a nude suit and no shoes and insists on complimenting my green hair and bringing me presents she received, no doubt from sexual favors. She stands in front of my cell with a security guard trailing after her like a lost puppy. Her hands grip the metal bars of my cell. My gaze falls back onto the tally marks in front of me.

“Not talkin’ today, Sir?” She asks, cocking her head and toying with hair around her finger. I wonder for a moment if she views men the same way: like something folly she can wrap around her finger and use to her advantage whenever she’d like.

“What do you want?”

“Just to say hello, of course. Come closer.”

What compels me to stand up and walk to the cell door? I'm not sure.

But it’s what I do.

She hums lowly, sticking her hand between the bars and carding her fingers through my hair. “You remind me of somebody I used to know.” Her fingers trail over my forehead, then down to my cheekbone, grazing the tattoo that lies there. “I like you, puddin’. Do you like me?”

“No.” My reply is short, easy and honest.

She doesn't look surprised. “Why not?”

“Why would I?”

She changes the subject instead, her hand trailing down my clothed chest. “You look stressed, daddy. You’ve been here a long time. Let me take care of you.”

“I don't need you,” I answer.

She allows her face to come close to the bars, as close to my ear as she can get. “Then why are you standing here?”

I'm silent. I don't know.

“Are you waiting for something? Are you waiting for your gift, daddy?”

My mouth goes dry and I'm not sure what to do, how to respond to this wild girl in front of me. I simply nod.

She holds her hand out to the guard and receives a gift bag, which she slides through the bars.

“I'm going to leave now,” she announces. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

As she turns and walks away, I grab the bag off the floor, returning to the spot in which I was sitting. I empty the contents of the bag: three boxes of green hair dye. There’s a sticky note attached to one of them. It reads:

Hair’s fading, Daddy. I'd be more than happy to help you with that dye. HQ xxx

I roll my eyes. I'm serving a life sentence. I don't care about my damn hair color.

“Dye it soon. You're starting to look less like my Josh.”

The voice came from Tyler.

No, not my Tyler.

His Tyler.

The body my mind was planted in belonged to a Josh Dun who lived in Japan. In his mind was a Tyler Joseph, who was much like I was. Instead of lying dormant in the body I was given, his Tyler is alive within me.

And, God, I hate him.

“I don't want to look like your Josh,” I tell him.

“Well you fucking killed him so I think you owe me at least a goddamn hair job.”

I understand how my Tyler felt now. I know what it’s like to feel antagonized by a voice in your head, a voice that's not just a voice, but one that has a body, a face. One that no one else can see. One that makes you feel as though you're losing your mind but you know… you think that you're not. One that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

One that makes you wish you were dead.

Because in some way, I know I'm different. I’m stronger somehow. Maybe it’s the power of actually being human, maybe it’s something bigger than that. But I know that I could end it all if I wanted to. And I do. I’d love to kill myself, to hear his Tyler beg for mercy.

But I can't do that.

The problem about making a vow with yourself is that you can never outsmart that vow. You can't break it because breaking it means lying to yourself and lying to yourself makes you crazy, and you've been trying to convince yourself of the opposite all your life.

Again, a sound breaks me from my thoughts. This time, it’s a voice. Oli’s voice, to be specific. He was moved to Central Containment 68 days after I came here alone. His cell, once again, is near mine. This time, it’s across the hall, still close enough that we can hear each other if we project our voices.

“She says you remind her of someone?” His thick English accent rips through the air like the cool blade of a knife.

“Guess so.”

“You know who she’s talkin’ ‘bout, right? Mr. J? The most dangerous man alive? Those are big shoes to fill, mate.”

“I’m tired of trying to be dangerous. It’s exhausting.”

Oli shrugs. “All of us‘ve got blood on our hands.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Five people’s worth?” That shuts Oli up, but I keep going. “Four of them I shot. The other one? His blood covers this cell.”

“They said he committed suicide.”

“Yes, but why? That's the real question.”

Oli’s had enough of this conversation and so have I. So I sit, staring at the tally marks on the wall. This is what I will do every day until the day I die. Sometimes a wild blonde will come in and make my mouth dry and my head spin, sometimes his Tyler will grieve and scream and make my head hurt. I don't care anymore. This is my punishment. I don't deserve the pleasure that I know the wild blonde would be more than happy to give me. I don't deserve the sweet silence of death.

The world is my punishment. This cruel, corrupt, fucked up place is where I need to be. For my crimes, I sentenced myself to life.

Life in Hell.

Life without Tyler.

Life without my sweet boy to make it just a little more beautiful.