Open Your Eyes (Cashby)

Chapter 5

ALAN'S POV

"Alan, catch!" Jake exclaimed, tossing a ball to me. I watched as it flew through the air, smacking me square in the face, and he cheered.
"Woo! The crowd goes wild!" He yelled, running around me in a circle. I just watched him, feeling amusement. At times like these, I didn't feel like a freak. I felt very normal. Tossing the ball back at him, he expertly caught it and smirked at me. He just patted my hand in a pitying way. "One day, my protégé, you will prosper." Jake was my best friend, in a weird sort of way. I liked him a lot, and the way he did things. He was a very nice, very funny person. He made me think about the way I wanted to be when I got out of here. As a schizophrenic with paranoid delusions, I was socially inept.
"Can we sit together?" I asked. He rolled his eyes. Jake knew that I didn't know how to hint at things, and that I liked being close to him. He was the only one, granted, that I liked to touch me.
"Yeah, sure." He sighed. "You needy little thing." He teased. I believe Jake thought of me as a little brother. He'd always wanted one, and had told me stories about when he finally got one when he was 7, the infant died in a car crash. Jake survived, and I could see the guilt in his eyes. He wishes Tommy had lived instead, and believed his parents wished that, too.
He let me sleep in his lap sometimes, and that made me feel special. I'd kissed people before, of course. We all played kissing games when we were in middle school. But I'd never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. I don't know if I wanted to date Jake, but I liked to be close to him. He made me feel nice. So, in the common room on the couch, I sat in his lap and put my head against his chest. He was a really affectionate person, and a lot bigger than me, so it was sort of natural for him to hold me. The nurses didn't say anything usually; they were pretty lax about the no touching rule. These were good times for me, though I knew Jake thought I was silly. I sat sideways on his lap and put my head in the crook of his neck, closing my eyes for a bit. It wasn't sleep, but more like resting. I was somewhat aware of things surrounding me, of Jake's hand caressing my back, and the way his heart sounded; slow and steady. Buh-dum, buh-dum, buh-dum, buh-dum. Colors swirled around my eyes, and the world became a Van Gogh painting. Everything moved in a way that it shouldn't have, colors blending in a way that they shouldn't have.
"It's so pretty, Jake." I mumbled, lacing my fingers with his. I couldn't filter my words.
"What is?"
"The colors." I answered. "I wish you could see it, too."
"Als, it's not right to see those things. It keeps you from real life." He said gently, tracing patterns on my spine.
"I like it sometimes. Real life is too scary."
He shook his head, giving me a little kiss on the forehead. "Okay... Just promise me you'll keep trying to get better." He demanded. I nodded slowly.
"Alright, boys, that's enough of the canoodling." A nice, melodic voice came from behind me. I clung tighter to Jake, not wanting at all to leave.
"Come on, man, can't you see he's happy here?" Jake snapped at whoever objected. I was very disoriented, and I couldn't quite feel things the right way, so I just tried to hold tighter to him. I couldn't see very well either; everything was blending.
"There's a rule about no touching." The voice insisted. Jake snorted.
"You wouldn't do that to a couple of poor, mentally insufficient kids who need comfort." I could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and I knew this routine. He was disrespectful to the orderlies when they tried to reprimand him. I would never attempt something like that, but I thought it was interesting the way him mind worked. What about it made him question authority? Was it where he grew up?
"Uh... listen, as long as you promise this isn't a sexual thing." The voice said in a low tone. I nodded, but I knew Jake would be answering for me.
"I promise." He said, but even then his voice sounded a little sarcastic. I heard someone stalk away, and relief flooded through me. He started chuckling. "Look who's jealous."
"Who?" I asked quietly.
"Austin!" He said. I felt this weird dread feeling come over me. All week, he'd been talking to me in Arts and Crafts, saying hello, and being extra friendly. I only said something to him once, and it was a very panicked 'thank you'. He made me nervous and my stomach feel warm and I felt like an idiot around him. I couldn't really explain it. Maybe he just wants to hurt you.
"Why would he want to hurt me?" I blanched at the idea. Everyone wants to hurt you. "Oh." I said, feeling my blood run cold. Was it possible that he was out to get me? If not, he'll still just think you're crazy. "I know." I muttered sadly.
"Alan, are you hearing things?"
"Weren't you just talking to me?" I asked, confused. The room shook a little bit.
"No." He sighed. I just covered my face with my hands, embarrassed and tired of hearing things. I couldn't tell the difference between my own mind and Jake's voice. It was easier when I was looking at him, watching his lips actually move. He rubbed my back in a comforting way, probably pitying me. You don't deserve pity.
"Shut up!" I said. "Uh, not you, Jake." He just sighed again.
"It's okay, Als. Don't worry about it." We sat in a sad, but comfortable, silence for a while, me drifting in and out consciousness. At the end of the period, he stretched out, his long arms reaching. That was my cue to get up. Rubbing my eyes, I slid off of his lap and rolled my shoulders.
"Thanks, Jakers." I said happily, using his nickname. He nodded, ruffling my hair.
"Anything for you." He kissed the top of my head, which made tiny butterflies press against my stomach. It was good to know that I could still feel things like this. It was hard to feel sociable, and I didn't understand other people sometimes, and I zoned out when they talked. Well, not zoned out; I couldn't hear them sometimes and delusions got in the way of having relationships with people. My episodes, hallucinations, and hearing voices had been slowly declining since I got here, but it was a crawl. I wasn't sure what life after would entail, but it's not like I could stop taking my medication.
My parents were not the most understanding people, but they weren't horrible. I loved them, but I didn't have a lot of good memories with them from the past 5 years or so. The last 5 years... were a blur. A colorful, nightmarish blur. I didn't really like to think about it, the way they didn't believe me at first. I mean, I really had no idea what was going on. Things got bad when I was practically walking around in a strange haze for most of the time. Hearing things came first. Just a whisper here and there, then they got louder. Soon after, little visual things changed. Colors started blurring and swirling. It progressed into full blown episodes, and paranoid delusions. They noticed my behaviors, and it would be fair to say they were getting fed up with it. I tried to explain to them, but neither of us really understood, and they thought I was acting out. Then, one day in Spanish class, I had an episode and thought that everyone was trying to hurt me. It was terrifying, the feeling that everyone was out to get you. I started freaking out. Suddenly, every move I made sent me further down, and I attacked the kid next to me who was only trying to offer me a pencil. Then, I got sent here after a long session with a psychiatrist. They diagnosed me with undifferentiated-type schizophrenia. When my life here began, I wasn't sure how to feel. It was like taking a fish out of the ocean and thrusting it into a tank with weird fake coral and plastic decorations. Being a fish must be great, though. My mind took the idea and ran with it. I imagined having fins, swimming deep in the sea, weaving in and out of seaweed. All the different colors, the reflection of sunlight across the surface of the water. Looking up and seeing the warped, blurry sun through the water. For a few more minutes, everything looked like I was watching through water. To my satisfaction, though, I reminded myself that it was just my illness, and the images slipped away. It became immensely more easy to see, then.