Insane.

Chapter 32

Amnesia- 5 Seconds Of Summer

Autumn Leaves- Ed Sheeran

Sunburn- Ed Sheeran

*NIALLS POV*

It's been a month since she left.

I can't sleep anymore. I only dream of her. And that leads to tears that fall down my cheeks like rain during a hurricane.

I can't eat. It burns my throat like acid. I'm hungry but the pain of the hunger masks the pain of her.

I can't say her name. Or think it.

I've gotten bad again.

It's different this time. I don't hurt people anymore. I'm too tired too. I just don't want to do anything. I don't care anymore. I'm done caring about anything, because it only leads to pain.

I can't play the piano anymore. It reminds me of her. And the schizophrenia has caused my fingers to stiffen and not want to easily move along the keys.

For a while I pretended I was okay, but I got tired of it. I'm not okay. And I never will be. And I don't even care anymore.

Greg doesn't come as much as he used to. I don't blame him. I'm not very interesting and I'm not fun to be around. I miss him but I can't do anything about it.

I don't even talk anymore either. She was the reason I talked in the first place, so I've got no reason to anymore. There's just no one I want to talk to.

Except Dr.Smith. But barley. He knows I'm insanely depressed and the poor guy is doing everything he can to help. But he doesn't know why I'm this way. And I won't tell him. For her sake.

I just feel so empty. My body constantly aches but feels numb all the same. My eyes always feel heavy and I struggle to stay awake. I do my best not to sleep because the dreams are all of her or they're too terrifying to witness. Or both. Those are the worst.

I'm sitting in Dr.Smith's office now. I'm lying down on the big couch and watching the window while I wait for him to get off the phone.

When he hangs up, he walks over and apologizes to me. He doesn't need to, though.

"How are you, Niall?" I've been seeing so him much more lately. In the beginning our sessions were lighthearted and easy, but as the time's passed, they've become dark and gloomy. I know he's losing hope with me, but I don't care. I feel bad that he's trying so hard to help me, but I'm too far gone to be helped. And I always have been.

"I'm okay." I lie.

"The staff are telling me that you're not eating. Why, Niall?"

I shrug slowly, "I don't know. I'm just not hungry." I only eat what I absolutely have to. Like one or two bites per meal. I just feel sick all the time, especially if I eat.

The psychiatrist puts his clipboard on the table and sighs. I look over to him, and his hands are placed over his face, concealing it from my view.

"Dr-?"

"I'm okay. Sorry, it's just... You remind me of my son, and I hate seeing you like this, Niall." He stares at me and his grey eyes shimmer as if on the verge of tears.

"Why?" I ask. It's not like my health affects him in any way.

He sighs defeatedly and speaks softly, "Niall, do you wanna know why I became a psychiatrist?"

Not really. But the poor guy looks like he could use some time talking about his problems for once. "Sure." I mumble.

His hand covers his mouth as he coughs, thick veins emerge on either side of his throat and a quick, loud roar plays in the room. "Because of my son." He pauses. "You remind me so much of him, Niall. He uh, he was a great kid. Always happy and cheerful, until his mother left us. He was ten. He became distant and didn't speak unless spoken to, he refused to eat, he started acting out at school by pushing kids and hitting them and yelling at teachers. His excuse for it all was that the voices in his head made him do it. And of course, I thought he was just being a bratty little kid."