My mind spiraled as today's events replayed in my head, dark thoughts creeping in like shadows in the corners of my mind. My fingers found their way to my hair, twisting, pulling. A sharp sting shot through my scalp, but I didn't stop.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
"Haha… whatever happened today didn't make any sense. So what, am I schizophrenic now? Wasn't the fucking inability to get a good night's sleep enough?"
I dropped my head, closing my eyes, trying to breathe through the frustration.
I hate this. I fucking hate everything. I hate keeping this mask on every day. Why can't things go back to the way they were before? Why can't I just have a normal life?
A sharp nausea twisted in my stomach, making my throat tighten. I gagged, pressing my palm against my face as if that could keep it down.
Shit... I feel like I'm about to throw up...
I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to slow. Calm down. This isn't helping. It's only going to make things worse.
"You can't afford to break now," I muttered to myself, forcing my body to stay still. "Not when you're this close to your goal."
Then, like a cruel joke, memories from my past surfaced. Painful, heavy things I had buried deep. I had always faced everything alone. I had tackled every problem, every hardship, on my own.
This… this was nothing. I could handle this too.
I just needed to think. Think. These had to be hallucinations, right? Maybe I really am schizophrenic. Should I go to a doctor?
But then why did they feel so real?
I glanced down at my shoulder, touching the spot where that thing's sharp fingers had dug into me. My shirt was still intact—no scratches, no tears. There wasn't a single mark on my skin.
No evidence. No proof.
Maybe I really am schizophrenic.
Grabbing my phone, I clicked the side buttons, the tiny mechanical sounds echoing in the silence of my room. My fingers moved quickly, typing in the symptoms of schizophrenia and pulling up a list.
My eyes scanned the screen.
A sigh left my lips as I tossed the phone aside, letting it land somewhere on the floor. I hunched over, burying my face against my knees.
It's a waste of time. Maybe I should just go to a doctor…
But my gut twisted at the thought.
Something's not right.
Everything inside me screamed that this was real. That if I waited, I would get answers. That I had to wait. The hallucinations—if that's what they were—only started today. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions too fast.
A sudden knock at the door made me tense.
Leave me alone. I don't feel like pretending right now.
"Hey, can we talk?"
Sugar. Of course, it was her. No one else ever bothered to check in on me—except her and Dad.
Another knock, this time louder.
"Hey, I know you're not sleeping, dummy. Just open the door."
I exhaled slowly, dragging myself up from the bed. Why now? I ran a hand over my face, smoothing out any lingering emotions before walking toward the door.
The second I opened it, Sugar stood there, staring at me. She didn't say anything at first, but her expression said enough—furrowed brows, a tight frown. She was pissed. And I already knew why.
"So," I said flatly, "you got dumped, sis?"
Her eyes flashed, but she ignored me. Instead, she shoved past me and stepped inside.
"What was that?" I turned to face her.
She looked around, frowning. "Why are the lights off?"
I resisted the urge to sigh. Because I had a mental breakdown.
"I was trying to sleep," I lied. "Until you came barging in."
For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, in a much softer voice, she muttered, "Oh… sorry."
But just as quickly, she snapped back, her tone rising again. "But that doesn't mean I forgive you!"
This is going to take a while.
I smirked slightly. "Oh, did I do something wrong, Mom?" I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.
"Don't act like you don't know," she snapped. "You always take their bullshit and never say anything back. And whenever I try to help you, you just—just stop me!"
Her frustration was evident, but beneath that, I could hear something else. Concern.
I stared at her for a long moment. I wanted to tell her, Just because I call that man 'Dad' and you 'Sis' doesn't mean I'm part of this family.
But I swallowed the words and let her continue.
She sighed, frustration evident in her face. "I don't get it. Why do Phil and Melissa always act like complete assholes to you?"
I sighed, moving to sit next to her on the bed. Meeting her eyes, I forced a small smile. "Thanks for caring, Sis. But hey, I'm fine."
I kept my voice light, like this was nothing. Like I wasn't exhausted to my core. "Can we talk about something else?"
She let out a long, deep sigh. Then, without warning, she reached out and pinched my nose—hard.
"Ow!" I yelped, jerking away. "What was that for?"
She giggled, her expression softening just a bit. "With those dark circles and that exhausted look, you're the one who looks like they got dumped."
I rubbed my nose, grumbling under my breath. "That was random."
She just smiled.
We talked about random things after that. Small things. Stupid things. The kind of conversation that didn't mean much but somehow felt like it mattered.
Half an hour later, she finally left, and I collapsed onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The storm in my head had quieted. Not completely, but just a little.
And for now, that was enough.