Where is my mind

12

I could given myself whip lash by fast my head flew up to see Ian there, a goofy, lopsided grin plastered on his face. The nurse smiled and quietly clicked the door closed in the background. Despite the smile, he looked like shit. Mused hair and dark sunken eyes from too many sleepless nights. I've come too familiar with the particular look. But fuck I couldn't care less. I flung myself at him, shoving my mouth on his while my hands ran through his hair. I relished the feel of his arms circling my back and pulling me closer. I never realized how much I had been craving human contact. We finally pulled away and Ian chuckled:

"Hi, Mick."

I wasn't even able to formulate words at how good I felt right now. How happy I was to see him.

"Y-you actually came," I whispered, astonished.

Ian look taken aback, "Of course I did. Mickey, why did you think I wouldn't?"

I shook my head, and took his hand, leading him to my bed. He sits down, leaning against the wall as I had been earlier, and I crawled on adjacent to him, snuggling up to him. Ian wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I buried my face in his neck, closing my eyes and taking in the scent of peppermint and a bit of nicotine. He smelled so good. He filled me in on what had been happening back at home, and I told him how shitty of a place this was, I much I wished to come home.

"Mickey," he huffed, grabbing my waist to sit me up and turn me to face him him. I met his vibrant green eyes and was immediately in a trance. Versus Ian's view of my cold, dead, blue ones. "We need to talk." I swallow thickly, growing more anxious by the second. Of course you fucked up. You always fuck up.

". . . why didn't you tell me?" he choked, taking my hands in his, "you could hurt yourself, or someone else." I hung my head, how was I supposed to answer that? Why didn't I tell him?

"I . . . I just . . ." I stalled, scrambling for the words. Ian looked at me expectantly, and I forced myself to continue before I screwed up even more.

"I don't fucking know, ok? So many things were going on, I didn't want to freak you out," I blurt exasperated, as a knock came to the door. I shifted uncomfortably and scooted slightly away from Ian, since I'm dangerous and could hurt people.

"Come in," Ian sighed, casting a side glance towards me.

* * * * * *

"Apologies for interrupting. I just wanted to take advantage of this ideal opportunity to talk to you specifically Mr. Gallagher," a tall woman in a lab coat and black slacks announces, pulling the metal chair closer to the bed where Mickey and I were sitting. "Mickey, you need to hurry on to therapy now," she leaned in and spoke to him in a soft voice.

Mickey rolled his eyes, "god, why?" The woman lowered her head and raised her eyebrows, she had a sort of intimidating factor to her. She was almost too calm, and could probably make anyone do anything she wanted. "Whatever," he spat, pushing himself off the bed and stomping out the door. She must have a real high authority to get even Mick to do as she asked.

"Hello, I am Dr. Grayson, Mickey's psychiatrist, and I feel now is the right time to send Mr. Milkovich home, as well as explain some things to you. And you are Mickey's partner, Mr. Gallagher, correct?"

I nod slowly, "Yea, call me Ian."

"Alright Ian, so I'm going to throw a lot of information at you all at once, if you have any questions or confusions, please feel free to stop me to explain," she rifled through a folder filled with a stack of paper, clearing her throat before she began:
"Mickey has a severe mental disorder known as Paranoid Schizophrenia. Symptoms include: visual and auditory hallucinations, delusions, lack of emotion, lack of expression, sudden changes in mood and increased hostility, difficulty maintaining or creating relationships, disorganized speech, abnormal motor behavior, irritability or depression, trouble sleeping, decreased sexual desire, and psychosis, which is a detachment from reality and quite serious. Now, Schizophrenia cannot go unmediated, however the disorder itself is not life threatening. Mr. Milkovich will be on prescribed medication to decrease the harshness of his symptoms and further increase his quality of life in the long run. How are we doing so far?"