Black Heart//l.h.

1

Pretty Little Girl - Blink 182.

"Olivia Johnston." The support group leader, Sam, called my name.

I bit my lip, standing up. I looked back at the lonely blonde boy in the corner, who was sketching something in a notebook.

"Uh, hi. I'm Olivia Johnston. And I'm 17. I'm here because..." My eyes trailed over to the boy in the corner, who looked up at me. "I-I was schizophrenic."

The boy closed his notebook and leaned back, watching me.

"And," I continued. "it's not fun. Like, you see these...people. People who died, people who aren't even real, people who never existed." I looked down and pulled my sleeves over my hands.

"How are you doing?" The leader asked me, crossing his legs and sitting back.

"I'm fine." I nodded and sat back down.

"Well done, Olivia. Everyone?" And they all began clapping. It was this thing, like, you had to applaud the person for being so courageous for getting through whatever they had.

"Luke?" The leader nodded in the blonde boy's direction as he stood up, looking around the room.

"I'm Luke Hemmings. I'm 28."

Oh.

"Just kidding. I'm 18. I'm here because, well, I went insane." He chuckled a little at that and looked straight at me. "And that's not too fun either."

I felt a couple of people stare at me as well as the boy-Luke.

"Good job. Would you like to tell us a little more about that?" The leader asked, writing something down on a clipboard.

"Not much to tell." He shrugged. "You go insane, you get these weird pills and you end up here." Looked at me again.

I smiled a little, looking down.

"Okay. Well, again, good job, Luke. Everyone?"

We applauded.

Luke sat down, continuing with his drawing and ignoring everyone else.

Throughout support group, I looked at Luke a couple of times, and he looked at me. He poked his tongue out at the side, looking back down at his notebook. I had never seen him before, nor had he seen me, so he must've been new.

After support group ended, I walked out of the small white room and headed up the stairs to the floor where I stayed. I needed special care after I had a major panic attack a few months ago. The doctors kept telling me I was lucky I survived, since the attack was so dangerous to my health, it could have killed me. I never got that, though.

I survived. I don't remember what I saw, but I knew that being schizophrenic meant I could never have a normal life.

That's all in the past now, and sometimes my parents visited me, but I knew they secretly hated having a schizophrenic daughter. This was my new home.

I couldn't even go to school after that. I had to convince everyone I couldn't. I told them I didn't know if I was ever going to be okay, and that got their attention. They agreed to let me drop of out school, and I was pretty happy about that. I didn't care about being schizophrenic, truth was, I cared about the judgemental bitches.

I went to the art room and sat alone in the corner, drawing a small rose on a torn sheet of paper.

Hardly anyone was there, and after a little while, it was just me, sitting in the half lit art room in the hospital. The place where they kept sick people, babies alive and well and even dead bodies. I lived in the hospital.

A few minutes later, I heard the door open, and saw a tall blonde boy with a black lip ring leaning against the wall.

"Olivia."

I looked up at Luke, who was studying me carefully.

"Uh. Luke?"

He nodded, walking over and sat across me. "Olivia Johnston." I frowned a little, curious to know why he kept saying my name.

"Hi." I finally said.

"I-I've...never mind. You're schizophrenic?" He checked.

"Not so great." I shrugged.

Luke looked thoughtful for a moment before leaning back and staring at me. "Schizophrenia...what's it like?"

"Uh. Well," I didn't know how to explain it without getting all weird and deep. "most people find it scary. I don't find it scary. I'm used to it, except I do scream sometimes. Like, in my sleep or something."

"No, what's it like? It's not scary...so what's it like?"

I was a little confused but answered anyway. "It's like, not being able to breath. Suffocating. Dangerous. Just plain terrible. I can't really explain it."

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "That's more like it."

"What's it like going insane?"

"Nothing. It's really just nothing. I guess I believe I'm not really insane, but everyone keeps telling me I am. So...I'm going with the majority here." He smiled a little.

I smiled back, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Good to know. By the way, how are you? The support group leader didn't ask you that."

He thought about it for a moment then smiled again. "I'm fine."