Jessica

Zander

          "Jess, stop!" I yelled. She's so cute and giggly when she wants to be. She's 20, but has the mind of a 5 year old schizophrenic.

          Hello, I'm Zander. I'm 25 years old, and I'm Jessica's everything. I just hope these voices in her head will go away. It's scaring me, and most of all, the voices in my head.

          "We're going to see your parents, okay?" Mom's birthday. My father hated the sight of me. Two reasons; he's a man and I'm gay.

          The day I came out the closet was the day I quit the football team. Never had shed so much blood on my life. He cut me. It didn't hurt, though. I was already cutting myself because of him.

          On the way there, we played Jeffree Star and Madonna. We sung along and didn't care how bad we were. That was just us; the psychotic couple. Schizophrenia and Self Harm.

           That walk up the porch was the longest walk in the world to me. "Is that you, Alexzander? You got yourself a girlfriend?" My father opened the door with a smile on his face. "No, dad. This is Jessica. My friend. I'm still gay-" His knuckles hit my jaw quicker than ever.

          "You're still a faggot! You're not allowed in this house. Tell your mother happy birthday from out here." I shuddered. I hated that word.

          Faggot. Make me cringe with anger. "Hey, dad!" Once he turned around, I socked that 58 year old man out. "Stop, Zander! It's not worth it." Jessica grabbed my ivory hand and pulled my forehead to hers.

          She whispered to me. She always does this. Says things to me that'll make me cry with anger and I'd hug her. A sign that I've calmed down and I'm ready to talk. She just has that effect on me. I wonder will my future boyfriend have that, too.

          "Mom, happy 55th. Dad, you can pack a punch and take one too. We out this bitch, peace!" I strut to the car, while Jessica was laughing.

         

          That night, I attempted suicide. Jessica called the hospital. I'm stuck in the hospital for 3 weeks until I calm down and my wounds heal. How does the world let people go so far to make someone want to quit their life?