Chapter 12: Alive

It is amazing how interesting the pattern on the floor can become when you stare at it for an extended period of time.

It’s Intern Week.

That is why I am staring at the floor.

Intern-Week actually spans over two weeks, but Intern-Fortnight sounds stupid so I refer to this dreadful period of time as Intern-Week. Or, actually, I could just call it Hell-Week. I deem both terms appropriate.

Anyway, I’m staring at the floor because the interns are running a workshop. Its actually going quite successfully, considering everyone is participating. Except me, of course. I am staring at the floor.

I have picked my intern already. Every intern gets assigned a patient they have to analyse over the course of their placement. Every year I pity the poor fool who thinks they are going to be my best friend by the end of the two weeks. The first year the poor girl gave up after three days of me point-blank ignoring her and didn’t return for the rest of the placement. Last year the insolent boy stayed the entire time and tried everything from insulting me to begging with me to interact with him. He failed the assignment; I overheard Markman talking to him about it. It amused me a great deal to hear her berating him for calling me stupid.

My intern this year has spent the last hour trying to make eye-contact with me but I have only been making eye contact with the floor, so he’s not getting very far. It took him a while to figure out who I was because I refused to wear the name tag. Everyone else was wearing those idiotic speed-dating nametags that boldly stated: ‘Hi! My name is….’ There was no way I was allowing that sticker to come anywhere near me. There were three reasons behind my reluctance to wear the name tag. Firstly, they look ridiculous. There was only one exception to this rule and that was Frank. He looked ridiculously cute instead. When Markman gave him the sticker he obediently stuck it to his shirt straightaway. He hadn’t worked himself up to defying Markman as openly as I did. I, on the other hand, scrunched it up immediately and tossed it under Ray’s chair as soon as I got it. Markman didn’t react in the slightest and simply moved on to the next person.

The second reason I refused to wear the name tag was for entertainment purposes. I thought it would be much more interesting and amusing for the interns to have to figure out who we were themselves. The third reason was along the lines of self-preservation. I am being hunted. They are searching for me. I wasn’t going to wear a nametag that told them who I was. I’m not a fucking idiot. Man, seriously.

An intern was moving around the circle handing out pieces of paper and pencils. When she got to me, I ignored her. She was quite thrown for a long moment. Everyone else leading up to me had accepted the paper and pencil graciously. She wasn’t expecting someone to be uncooperative. She stood there dumbly, staring at me, still holding the paper out to me even though it was clear I wasn’t going to accept it. I wondered whether she would just dump it in my lap and move on or whether she would just skip me. She did neither. She stammered and faltered and looked around desperately at her colleagues for advice. Finally, Frank felt sorry for her and accepted the materials on my behalf. He set them down under my chair and the girl took that as incentive to start moving again.

The aim of this first exercise was to write down ten bad things in our lives, or ten things that worried us or a combination of both. After we had written down the ten things we would go off with our intern to discuss them and create ways to overcome them.

Fuck this shit.

No one was wearing a name tag with Gerard on it, and I was the only person without a name tag. Despite this, it took my intern a shocking amount of time to figure out who I was. However, once he finally singled me out through the process of elimination, he came over to me.

I snuck a glance at Frank’s list and he had three things on it. I was desperate to read what they were. I would kill to know what worried him, just so I could try to fix it. Hell, I’d even commit genocide to find out the bad things in Frank’s life.

I know I really shouldn’t be joking about killing. Doesn’t really seem appropriate now, considering the circumstances.

“You not writing a list, Gerard?” my intern asked.

Yes, I am. Just because I don’t want to write it down on paper doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it. Who needs paper when you have a brain like mine?

The intern collected my piece of paper from under my chair and held the pencil in his hand. “Why don’t you tell me them, and I’ll write them down? How does that sound?”

It sounds like shit. But what the hell? I’ll make a list in my head, just for something to do.

Ten bad things in Gerard’s (my) life:

1. I’m a murderer.
2. I shot my brother; my own flesh and blood.
3. I kissed Frank. Okay, that doesn’t sound bad at the moment, but just wait.
4. I have a boyfriend I’m not allowed to touch. The kissing was a one-off thing, obviously.
5. I don’t even know if Frank is my boyfriend. What classifies a boyfriend anyway?
6. I saw Lindsey again this morning. She just dropped by to collect some papers. But still, the heart attack I had when I saw her constitutes her as being in my list of bad things.
7. I’m hungry.
8. I’m due for a blood test this afternoon.
9. The cafeteria lady who makes the chicken soup with real chicken got another job.
10. Markman never “explained everything,” and is now denying those words ever left her mouth.

Hell, I’m on a role, I’m gonna keep going.

11. I’m terrified of being sent to jail.
12. I’m terrified that if I don’t go to jail I will end up at Greenwood, which is worse than a jail because the other inmates are murderers, rapists and paedophiles as well as being crazy and mentally unstable.
13. I’m still not sleeping properly.
14. I’m still scared I’ll hurt Frank.
15. Frank trusts me unconditionally.
16. I’ve fallen in love with Frank. This should really be emphasised as a major bad thing in my life at the moment.
17. I’m desperate to kiss Frank again. That’s why number three made its way into my top ten.
18. My new sketch book is too new and starchy.
19. I think the medication I’m on has made me gain five pounds. I mean, since going on the medication until now I’ve put on weight. I definitely feel and look bigger. Markman says it’s just a side effect of the several medications I’m on and not to worry about it. Easy for her to say. It’s okay though, I’ve stopped taking it so it doesn’t matter anymore.

I could list many, many bad things in my life at the moment. Hell, this mental list could reach over a hundred if I let it. But I’m getting kinda bored now. So, I think I’ll stop it at 20. And I saved the worst until last.

20. Jasper’s back.

He’s watching me. He’s staring at me. His severe, unrelenting gaze is really starting to unnerve me. He’s so angry with me. I can feel the fury oozing out of him. It’s in his eyes and in his body language. His lips are pressed together tightly and his arms are crossed over the gold sash on his chest. I’ve been ignoring him too.

“Gerard?” my intern prompted.

When I didn’t respond he stood up and for a brief second I felt triumphant. But no, all he was doing was moving so he was crouching in front of me.

“Gerard?”

Fuck.

As the man said my name again, I accidentally looked at him. He was directly in my line of vision and before I could stop myself I let my eyes flick to his and make eye-contact. I did not want to do that. It was an automatic response. Our eyes met for a split-second. No, it was even less than a split-second, but still, the damage was done. A smug smile crept onto the intern’s face as he realised that he had defeated me.

Bastard.

I made a big point about looking purposefully in the other direction and turning my nose up at him like he was a piece of sheep liver. Unperturbed, he smiled at me.

“I’m Brendon.”

No, you are a fuckwit. End of story.

I snuck another glance at Frank’s list; he hadn’t added any more to it. In fact, I was pretty sure he had scribbled the second one out. I didn’t quite get to see because as soon as Frank saw I was trying to read what he had written, he flipped the page over. Disappointed, I looked away and checked to see if Jasper was still hanging around.

I jumped slightly in surprise as his large, scarred hand clamped down on my shoulder, just as I was searching the room for him. He leant down so he was whispering in my ear.

“Come with me,” he asked. No, actually, he wasn’t asking, he was ordering me to do it.

But I wasn’t a recruit in his platoon. I didn’t have to follow his orders. He wasn’t my commanding officer. I answered to no one.

“Now!” he roared, squeezing my shoulder so hard I swear I felt my bones crack.

I shot up out of my chair faster than a bullet, my shoulder throbbing. The chair toppled over behind me but I didn’t dare stop to pick it up. I scurried out of the room after Jasper, well aware of the confused silence I left in my wake. I trailed after Jasper rather reluctantly. I didn’t want to follow him and find out what he wanted to speak to me about. But I was just as afraid to face his wrath if I didn’t do as he asked.

Jasper’s changed a lot in the past few months. He used to be friendly and nice and he was always telling me cool war stories. But ever since the arrival of Frank he’s become moody, cruel and angry. I don’t know what I did wrong.

Once we were in my room Jasper began his verbal assault on me. “What are you doing?!” he yelled.

My eyes widened in surprise. At that precise moment I was doing nothing. I blinked at Jasper and remained silent, keeping my sarcasm to myself.

“I told you to cut him loose. Are you stupid, boy? Can’t you see what a threat he is?!”

Oh. Frank. That’s right.

“Do I have to remind you, Gerard, how close they got? They cut into your head! The only thing separating them from your secrets was a few millimetres of bone! Why didn’t you listen to me?!” Jasper was angrier than I’d ever seen him before. I took a tentative step away from him, trying to be as discreet as possible in my retreat. I was so afraid he was going to hurt me.

“I’m –,” I began.

“DON’T SPEAK!” he bellowed, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. “They can track your voice! Have you listened to nothing I’ve been telling you?! I don’t like that I’ve wasted my time, Gerard. There are plenty of other people out there I could be helping!”

I inhaled sharply, embarrassed and hurt.

“I’m leaving. You’re on your own, Gerard. You won’t last a day without me, boy. You’re going to regret this for the rest of your short life until they succeed. You should’ve listened to me.”

“Don’t leave me!” I begged and reached out for Jasper’s arm. I owe the fact that I’m still alive after several close encounters with them to him. I know that. I acknowledge that. He can’t leave me. He can’t. He just…can’t.

As soon as I spoke Jasper growled in fury. “You have a death wish, boy,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of my grasp.

He can’t leave me. I need him. I’ll die without him. He’s always been there to warn me. Without Jasper I won’t last a week. Oh, God.

“Please, don’t leave me. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want.” In my distress I didn’t realise how binding my words were.

Jasper squared his jaw and drew himself up to his full height. Despite his age, Jasper was still taller than me. His face was flushed from yelling and the veins in his neck were literally popping out. He folded his arms. “Cut Frank loose,” he told me in his non-negotiable, commanding officer tone.

A silent cry of anguish fell from my mouth. I couldn’t do that. I simply couldn’t. No.

“Goodbye, Gerard,” Jasper said, his voice monotone, and clamped his hand down on the door handle.

“Don’t make me do that. Please. Don’t leave me. I’ll do anything. Anything but that. Please. Please. ” I knew it was useless. My throat was burning and my stomach was aching. I couldn’t do this on my own. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to lose Frank. I couldn’t stand the thought of either.

I forced Jasper away from the door and back into the centre of my room. I planted myself between him and the door. I wouldn’t let him leave without a fight.

“Why are you making me choose!?” I cried.

“WHY ARE YOU STILL SPEAKING?!” he hollered back at me, twice as loud.

I cringed away from Jasper’s rage, frightened.

“You can’t protect him. It’s for his and your own good. You know what happened last time you thought you could protect someone from them. This doesn’t need to end in the same way. You’ll be saving him by letting him go.”

“You don’t understand,” I said, beseechingly. “This is different.”

Jasper pursed his lips impatiently and stamped his foot. “You’re a pathetic fool,” he said maliciously.

My chest gave a painful spasm and my eyes burned as Jasper mocked me so openly. I didn’t have anything else to say. I was defeated. I’d never been defeated in my whole life. That time when Ray beat me at Monopoly doesn’t count either.

I wondered why Jasper wasn’t still speaking and looked up at him. At first I thought it was me he was glaring at with intense hatred, but when I spun around I realised it was Frank who was receiving his loathing. It looked like Frank had been there for a while because he was speechless. He even looked rather frightened. I don’t blame him. Jasper is one frightening man.

All Frank could do was stare at me. He swallowed and flicked his eyes from me to where Jasper was standing behind me. I still didn’t quite understand why he was so frightened though. Jasper wasn’t yelling anymore.

“What’s the matter?” I asked concerned and took a step forward. I ignored Jasper’s noise of disapproval from behind me.

To my surprise Frank took a step away from me. It was then that I realised. Frank was frightened of me. He was looked at me with a sickening fear radiating from him. What had I done?

“Y-you need h-help, Gerard,” Frank stammered and backed away so he was standing in the doorway.

“What?” I breathed, bewildered and hurt.

“You’re talking to no one, Gerard.”

“I’m talking to Jasper,” I replied immediately and gestured behind me to where Jasper had been standing.

“No. You’re talking to no one,” Frank said firmly. “There’s no one there.”

Why would he say that? Why would Frank lie to me so openly and so blatantly? Of course I was talking to someone. I was talking to Jasper. Jasper isn’t ‘no one.’

“Why would you say that?” I whispered, my mouth going dry.

“You’re sick, Gerard.”

“No, I’m not,” I said, my voice rising defensively.

Why was Frank saying these things? I’m not sick. I’m not crazy. I’m talking to Jasper. Jasper’s real. I don’t like this. Why would Frank hurt me like this? Was this his cruel idea of a joke? Oh, God, what is going on? I spun around to confront Jasper again but he had disappeared. How is that possible? I never saw him leave through the door. He can’t have gone.

Fuck me.

“I’m not sick,” I repeated, but I couldn’t convince myself and knew I wasn’t convincing Frank.

“You’re sick,” Frank whispered wretchedly.

“I’m not,” I mumbled and searched the room for Jasper. He can’t have just disappeared. That doesn’t happen. People don’t just disappear. “He was here. I swear. I’m not crazy. He was here. He was…. He was right here. I’m not crazy. Please believe me, Frank.”

“You’re scaring me,” Frank revealed and refused to look me in the eyes. “Stop it.” He wrapped his arms around his stomach, clutching and hugging himself comfortingly, like he always did when he was sad or afraid.

I scared him? How is that possible? How can he be totally at ease around me knowing I had shot my brother, but become fearful at the prospect of my lack of sanity?

“I’m not crazy,” I muttered, crushed.

Just when I thought that Frank couldn’t say anything worse he uttered, “Why won’t you let her help you?”

My confusion and distress took a back seat at that moment to an intense anger. Her. I hated her. I hated her so much it hurts. She’s turned Frank against me. Now Frank thinks I’m crazy. Now Frank thinks I’m just like the rest of them. I’m not like the rest of them. I’m not crazy. Jasper’s real. I’m not sick. They are real. Markman has turned Frank against me. She has never believed that they were real. But that’s her prerogative. She can believe what she likes. But she had no right to turn Frank against me.

I clenched my jaw shut and marched past Frank towards Markman’s office. I was going to tell her exactly what I thought. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Frank thought I was crazy. He looked at me and thought about me in the same way I regarded Ray, Bob and Adam. I couldn’t stand the thought of Frank’s condemnation.

I didn’t have a plan when I reached Markman’s office but I knew I could rely on my brain to help me out. I kicked the door open savagely and stormed in. Markman and about a dozen interns all froze and snapped their heads to stare at me. I hadn’t factored on the interns being in the room but it was too late to back out now. I’d made an entrance, now I needed to follow through.

“How could you?!” I exclaimed at Markman, my hands clenching into fists. “I hate you. I hate you! How could you?! He was all I had! How could you do that to me? I trusted you! I hate you. I hate you! I HATE YOU!”

I decided I had made my point and stormed back out, trying to make as much noise as possible with my feet. I resisted the temptation to break something. I was already in enough trouble as it was; I didn’t want to deal with vandalism charges as well.

As I got back to my room I took great pleasure in slamming my door as hard as I possibly could. It was at this moment that I wished that my door had a lock. I wanted to lock everyone out. Lock them out of my room, out of my head and out of my life. I threw myself facedown onto my bed and buried my head into my pillow, desperately wishing I would suffocate.

“Tell her you want to leave,” Jasper ordered me, reappearing again.

I was getting sick to death of Jasper but I knew, despite everything that had happened, he did have my best interests at heart. I had to start trusting him again.

As soon as Markman opened my door and stuck her bewildered head in, I sat up and informed her of my wishes.

“I want to leave.”

“Why?”

Sometimes, she’s as thick as two fucking planks of wood. Didn’t I make my feelings clear in her office two fucking minutes earlier? “Why do you think?” I snapped.

“Well, you can’t leave.”

“I want a transfer.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. Gerard, what is going on? You’ve been acting odd lately. Maybe if you talk to me I could help you?”

“Transfer me.”

She sighed. “No. This isn’t negotiable, Gerard.”

“Fuck you, then.” That was the first time I’d ever swore at Markman to her face. It felt ridiculously good. So good, in fact, that I felt the need to say it again. “Fuck. You,” I repeated and folded my arms defiantly. I emphasised the words this time. It was a fuck you for all the times she tried to convince me I was crazy and for all those fucking bloodtests.

As I swore at Markman she inhaled sharply and fixed her eyes on the floor. She looked hurt. Good. She deserved it.

She stood up, smoothing down her skirt obsessively. “I’ll come back when you have calmed down,” she said softly.

Jasper sprang to his feet. “Tell her you can’t see Frank anymore. Tell her to tell him you can’t see him anymore,” he commanded.

“What!?” I yelped at Jasper in horror. “I can’t do that,” I hissed.

Markman paused and looked at me funny. “Are you talking to me?” she asked suddenly, her eyes darting around the room suspiciously.

“Lie,” Jasper snapped, frowning at me angrily.

“Of course I’m talking to you,” I sniffed, obeying Jasper’s orders and speaking to Markman.

“Course you are,” Markman echoed and walked out the door.

Jasper strode over to where I was sitting on my bed and hauled me to my feet. “Tell her to tell Frank you don’t want to be friends with him anymore,” he ordered, his face an inch from mine.

“I can’t,” I argued weakly.

Jasper shoved me out the door. The noise I made tripping over my feet and stumbling into the doorframe caused Markman to look back at me.

“Tell her or I’ll leave. I am not kidding, Gerard.” Jasper was gripping my right arm tightly and painfully, preventing me from retreating back into my room. “ TELL HER!"

“I need you to tell Frank I don’t want to be friends with him anymore,” I blurted out and Jasper relinquished his grip on my arm.

Please God, let her not have heard what I just said.

Markman looked past me and I had the sinking feeling that not only had Markman heard what I had said, but so had Frank. I glanced to the side and, sure enough, saw Frank standing in the corridor, betrayal smeared across his beautiful face.

Fuck you, God.

Markman took a step toward Frank, her arms extended slightly in a sympathetic gesture. “Frank,” she said helplessly.

Frank just stared at me. I wished he wouldn’t. I think he was in shock because he didn’t move or blink. He just stared at me, wounded deeply by my words. I hate myself. I hate my life. Number 21 in my list of bad things: I really am a monster.

Markman observed the whole silent interaction with her hand covering her mouth. I don’t know why she cared. Frank would be better off without me. I hope she didn’t think I was stupid enough to believe she approved of our friendship… of our relationship.

Frank pale lips began to move as I stared and it took a second for the words to sink in.

“Tell Gerard I don’t want to be his friend anymore either,” he announced to Markman.

No, no, no, no, no, no. No, this isn’t what is supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to give up so easily. I do want to be your friend. I do. Do you not know me at all? Can’t you tell I’m so obviously lying?!

Markman moved her gaze from Frank to me, her hand still covering her mouth, in shock, I suspected. I looked away to stare at the linoleum, deeply ashamed and distressed. This was for the best, right? Jasper wouldn’t make me do anything that wasn’t for my own good. Frank would be safer too, after what happened with them last time. I mean, he almost got shot in the back of the head. His brains could have been splattered all over the white and blue tiles of the bathroom and it would have been my entire fault. Just like it was my fault that Michael was dead.

***

It’s week two of Intern Week and Brendon is still hanging around. Like usual, I’ve been making an extra special effort to ignore him but he’s fucking persistent. He’s always carrying around a notepad with him and jotting down notes. It’s like every fucking thing I do is the most fucking interesting thing in the world because it gets written down. I yawn, it gets written down. I sigh, it gets written down. I eat only three bites of dinner, it gets written down.

It’s fucking pissing me off.

But being pissed off is a welcome alternative to being devastated. True to both our words, Frank and I are no longer friends. Frank doesn’t even glance at me if we happen to pass each other or be in the same room at the same time. He’s hanging out with Adam, Ray, Bob and Bert instead. I’m so insanely jealous it hurts. I can’t believe my life has gone from liveable to worthless in less than a week.

Jasper, on the other hand, is thrilled about the whole situation.

“Isn’t it great not having to live in fear all the time?” he asked jovially, pacing happily. Now that Frank’s gone he’s the nicest fucking person on the planet.

I didn’t answer and simply pushed my face deeper into my pillow. Asphyxiation here I come.

“Gerard,” Markman called, disturbing me. “You have one minute to get to my office before I suspend all privileges.”

I groaned and made a big show of climbing off the bed and dragging my feet on the way to the door. There was no fucking way I was going to shower with the rest of those imbeciles or allow myself to stay contained to the supervised areas with everyone else. Markman stepped aside and let me past before following me to her office. I traipsed along as slowly as I could bear, purposing stopping and admiring marks on the walls or locks on doors.

“One minute,” Markman reminded me.

I swear she really is as thick as two planks of wood. It’s been at least four minutes already. I know it has. I know things.

Brendon was already waiting inside Markman’s office when I entered. I groaned exaggeratedly at the sight of him and rolled my eyes.

He jotted down what I had just done.

Fuck you, you fucking fuckwit. I swear I will take that pen and shove it up your arse the next time you write down something I do.

I slumped down into the chair and propped my feet up on Markman’s desk, crossing my legs at the ankles. I rested my throbbing head onto the palm of my hand and begun my forty minutes of staring blankly out the window. I’ve had a headache for at least a day now. I would greatly appreciate a couple of painkillers but refuse to ask Markman for them. I’d rather suffer. After all, I did deserve it. I couldn’t remove the image of Frank’s face and the deep betrayal that had covered it from my head.

“Gerard, please tell me what’s going on,” Markman implored as soon as she had sat down opposite me.

As if I would tell you, you evil witch.

“Would you prefer to write it down?” Markman stood up and placed a blank sheet of paper and a pencil on my extended legs.

I raised an eyebrow and moved my legs so the paper drifted to the floor. I think I made my point pretty clear.

Markman sighed and shut her eyes for a moment to collect herself. I wish that just once she would crack. “What’s his name?” she asked.

I frowned and glanced sideways at Brendon. Did she mean him?

“Not Brendon,” she said, doing her irritating mind-reading trick. “The other man in the room.”

Horrified, my head snapped to Jasper who was standing stiffly by the mahogany bookcase next to the window. Slowly and menacingly he moved his head from side to side, his narrowed eyes focusing on me intently.

“Gerard….” Markman prompted, her face hopeful.

I swallowed and shook my head quickly. He would kill me. I can see it in his eyes. He would. And why is she asking anyway? Didn’t Frank tell her about Jasper?

“Frank understands,” she said eventually after I refused to answer her question.

At the mention of Frank I stood up and walked out. I didn’t want Markman to see what a huge mistake I had made listening to Jasper. I didn’t want her to see me trying to stop my eyes from leaking. I say leaking because I no matter how hard I try sometimes I can’t stop those few stray drops from sliding down my cheeks.

I avoided everyone for the rest of the week. I stayed in my room and only emerged to eat either at the very beginning or the very end of the hour dedicated to each meal.

On the last day of Intern Week I was sitting miserably, five seats and exactly 3.5 metres away from Frank. The last session the interns are running before they leave is the opposite of the session they ran on the first day. Instead of ten bad things, we had to write down ten good things in our life.

I couldn’t think of one.

That’s how fucking sad I am.

I pushed the only good thing in my life away.

***

Today is the six week anniversary of me ruining my life. Frank hasn’t attempted to repair our friendship and Jasper has forbidden me from even looking at Frank. The few times I’ve been unlucky enough to glimpse Frank in one of my brief excursions to the cafeteria, my heart begins to ache even more. It like I’m being eaten from the inside out. My stomach has a constant, despairing weight residing in it and my chest hurts like I’ve been lying on it for days. Thankfully, my eyes haven’t leaked since that time in Markman’s office.

I wandered into Markman’s office on the morning of the six week anniversary, ready to avoid all her questions about Jasper. It was a miserable day outside. Almost as miserable as I was feeling. The clouds were angry and black and the rain was pelting down so hard I was fearful the roof would cave in again.

I sat down and looked at Markman expectantly. I really wished she would just offer to play scrabble with me. Even though I still hate her I still craved human contact.

“This is the only student who I graded with a high distinction,” she told me and handed me over a stack of paper I gathered was a report.

I accepted it with raised eyebrows. What was the point of this?

“Just read it,” she said simply and sat back in her chair, clasping her hands together.

I lowered my eyes to the stark white paper and lines of words and began to read.

Bluestone Institute
By Brendon Urie

I’m not too proud to admit how naïve I must have been at the commencement of my placement as Bluestone Psychiatric Facility in Princeton, New Jersey last week. Since junior high I have aspired to become a doctor and subsequently, a psychiatrist. Therefore, this meant I was thrilled to discover I would be spending two preliminary weeks of my intern year at Bluestone Institute, the country’s leading facility for psychiatric care in young adults. At the orientation week, my fellow interns and I were informed of our primary means of assessment for the duration of the placement. Upon being told of the task I admit to being disappointed. Each intern was allocated a patient for which we had to write a report on. The report could be as clinical or as personal as we liked. The rationale behind my disappointment was entrenched in the fact that I had been looking forward to treating and counselling patients, not just observing them like caged animals.

I had been assigned to a nineteen year old male patient named Gerard. I was given scant details on Gerard, compared to the information my fellow interns received on their own individual patients. Unperturbed, however, at my lack of knowledge on Gerard, I attended the first day of my placement with high expectations. I, like many of the other interns, expected to form an immediate close bond with my patient in the short time I had. I had already made plans to use this bond to gain useful insight into his persona and mental condition to assist in the writing of this report.

Gerard ignored me for the entire duration of my placement. I can honestly say Gerard and I made eye-contact an estimated total of five times during the two weeks. However, despite this lack of communication and interaction I gathered extremely quickly that Gerard is an incredibly intelligent young man. Everything he does, right down to the way he walks, is part of a highly methodical plan. When I came to this conclusion I decided to take the opportunity to verify this inference with certain members of the staff who ‘know’ Gerard.

I could not find one staff member who was willing to support my inference of Gerard’s supposed systematic functioning. Many of the staff members argued quite convincingly that Gerard was quite famed in the institution for his unpredictability. The prime example I was given of Gerard’s ‘unpredictability’ was an instance that occurred less than twelve months ago. Up until this time Gerard was “selectively mute”, “remarkably anti-social” and “disinterested in all aspects of his existence.” However, he managed to astound both the patients and the psychiatrists alike by electing to interact with another patient (Iero, Frank. Age: 16, #22013) during a group therapy session. Since this time, I have been told that both young men have been inseparable.

Other notable examples of Gerard’s unpredictability are inherent in the symptoms of his mental illness. Gerard suffers from paranoid schizophrenia. More notably, he suffers from treatment resistant paranoid schizophrenia. Although I was not able to verify this myself, I discovered that Gerard suffers from very vivid delusions of persecution. He believes that he is being hunted by an establishment he refers to only as ‘them’ and that they are seeking to “cut open his head and steal his secrets.” Additionally, Gerard is convinced that should ‘they’ succeed in their attempt to “kill him” and steal his secrets, the world, “will end.”

Gerard denies that he is mentally ill. Whenever the topic is brought up he withdraws noticeably. His treating psychiatrist Dr. Jillian Markman did disclose that Gerard had in fact gone through a phase of acceptance several years ago but relapsed as a result of a “severe head trauma.” Since the trauma Gerard has struggled with severe trust and emotional issues.

It was because of these well-established trust issues that Gerard’s friendship with Frank Iero was regarded with such speculation and amazement. Gerard, who has a long history of callous and selfish behaviour, terminated their friendship on the first day of my placement. This random act of what was regarded as ‘cruelty’ by several members of the staff has set Frank’s emotional recovery back significantly. My exposure to their friendship was brief but I can only imagine the joy it bought them both, considering the level of pure misery I encountered from them –

I couldn’t make myself turn the page. I couldn’t bear to read anymore. I was only two pages into the report and already I was struggling to differentiate between the lies and the truths. I didn’t know when Brendon was lying and when he was simply stating the facts and the observations he’d made. The lies were so deeply ingrained into the words that they were even starting to fool me. I’m not mentally ill. I’m not ‘remarkably anti-social’. I don’t suffer from treatment resistant paranoid schizophrenia. I don’t even know what the fuck that is! They are not a delusion. I’ve seen them. I didn’t just make them up! Why the fuck would he think I make shit like that up? Just to amuse myself!? Fucking hell.

And another thing! What is this “severe head trauma” I’d apparently been inflicted with? I think I’d remember if I’d hit my head! I’m not a fucking child.

“What is this?” I snarled, brandishing the paper crossly.

“The truth, Gerard,” Markman replied, all shrink-like.

No, it’s fucking not.

“How does it make you feel?”

“Like shit! I don’t want strangers writing lies and shit about me and letting other people read it. Who else has seen this?”

I will hunt down every copy of this paper and burn it. I swear I will.

Markman leant forward and picked up her pen. “Just me.”

Thank fuck for that. She really is an evil witch. My hate for her is slowly being justified.

“None of this is true. How could you grade this so high knowing he was lying? Don’t you feel hurt that he thought you were so stupid you wouldn’t notice when he was making stuff up?” I raised my eyebrows, questioning her.

“Are you going to finish it?” she inquired.

“No,” I replied stubbornly and folded my arms across my chest.

“Well, maybe you should read this,” she said brusquely and tossed another paper at me.

I scowled and picked it up off the beige carpet.

Alive
By Spencer Smith

I was assigned to 16 year old male patient, Frank Iero. Frank has been receiving psychiatric treatment at Bluestone Institute since June last year. Frank was admitted to Bluestone after suffering a psychological breakdown after being sexually assaulted and abused by two men. It was five months after the incident that the psychological breakdown occurred and as a result, Frank was admitted into Newark Base Mental Facility. Frank spent less than a month in this facility before his case was singled out by highly regarded and renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Jillian Markman and he was transferred to Bluestone Institute, the country’s foremost institution for young adults.

I paused for a moment. Why was everyone so keen to praise Markman? I mean, come on, seriously? Do they know who they are talking about? Renowned? Does she have some secret celebrity patients on the side or something? I scanned a few paragraphs, skipping past all the preliminary stuff I already knew.

Frank was remarkably polite and co-operative during my placement. He participated in all the activities and conversed with me quite willingly. However, having come from a loving and financially stable home environment and having little exposure to despair, it took me just over a week to realise that Frank is an exceptionally sad young man. It took me another week to then work up the courage to ask him what it was that he was so sad about. He replied with a name: Gerard.

This shocked me. I was expecting Frank to perhaps mention the abuse he’d been subjected to, or the mental anguish that resulted from it, but I was wrong. Gerard is another patient at the facility. He is an insolent young man with no respect for others. He cut Frank, his only friend, out of his life after Frank confronted him about his behaviour. Just as I was thinking of something to say to Frank, he surprised me even further by saying: “But he also makes me so happy.” When I asked why he just smiled and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand,” he told me. “No one understands him. But he understands me. He makes me forget. He makes me feel special. He makes me feel alive.”

“I don’t want to read this anymore,” I muttered and held the report out for Markman to take.

But she didn’t accept it. “I want you to read it. I want you to know,” she said. “I want you to realise that you are not the only person in this facility, Gerard. I want you to stop and think of someone else for a change.”

I hated that she thought of me in that way. Of course I knew that I wasn’t the only person in the facility. And Frank is all I ever think about. This mess was Jasper’s fault. Jasper made me do it.

I twisted around in my chair searching for Jasper but he didn’t appear to be in the room. I couldn’t see him but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hiding. I stood up and hurried to check behind the curtains and under the lounge. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was hiding under there. He would wait for me to betray him, then appear from an absurd spot and punish me.

Markman stood up and followed me with her eyes as I searched the room. There weren’t many places where an aging war veteran could hide but there were enough to keep me occupied for five minutes. Markman didn’t comment on what I was doing. It was like she was waiting for me to tell her.

“Looking for me?” Jasper announced his presence smugly from his favourite spot next to the bookcase.

My heart sank and I gazed at him horror. He was always hanging around. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone like he used to? I remained kneeling, despair overtaking me. I was so exhausted. I was so sick of everything. I couldn’t do it anymore.

“What’s his name, Gerard?” Markman asked sympathetically.

Why did she keep asking me that?! She knew his name. Frank knew about Jasper. Frank had been talking to Markman about me. She should know. Frank would have told her. He thinks I’m sick. But I’m not sick. I’m not crazy.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me,” she pleaded.

I didn’t want to look up from the carpet. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to be scared anymore.

Markman came over and crouched down next to me. “Let me help you,” she whispered.

“You already know,” I muttered.

“I do?”

“Frank told you and you told him I was crazy. I’m not crazy.”

“What?”

I glanced up at her. She was confused. She was genuinely confused. Frank did tell her, right?

“Frank has never said anything like that about you to me.”

He didn’t? I scrambled to my feet. “I can’t talk about this anymore,” I announced and scampered out the door, leaving Jasper and Markman behind me. As I walked aimlessly I ran over Frank’s words in my head.

“Gerard, there’s no one there.”

“They’re not real, Gerard.”

No. You’re talking to no one. There’s no one there.”

What if Frank wasn’t lying? What if I was crazy? What if I did make Jasper up? I mean, Frank wouldn’t lie about this, would he? No one else has ever commented on Jasper. He’s not exactly the most inconspicuous person around. Is that why I’m here? Is that why I’m in this fucking place? Am I crazy? Is Frank right? Frank was and still is the only person I trust and vice versa. He let me touch him. He asked me to kiss him. He has no reason to lie. Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, my fucking God. I’m a fucking nut job.

Is this the reason why I killed my brother? Surely that’s the only reason why I would do such a thing. Maybe I wasn’t in my right mind. Maybe it was an accident. Maybe it was Jasper’s fault. Maybe it wasn’t my fault after all. What would that mean? If that’s true, that means that Frank was right all along. He always said that it wasn’t my fault. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was just an accident. Why can’t I remember?

I was concentrating so hard that I got a shock when I almost walked into Jasper. I cringed away from him. “Leave me alone,” I snapped and tried to push past him.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Jasper raged.

“I can talk to you however I like. You’re not real.” Now from this moment on things were going to get very interesting.

Jasper, to my intense surprise, smirked. “Oh, really?” he said arrogantly.

I kept walking. “You’re not real. Frank said he can’t see you. I believe Frank,” I said, my voice quavering. I wasn’t even convincing myself, how did I think I was going to convince Jasper?

“Frank?” Jasper roared with laughter. “You still hung up on him?”

“I trust him,” I muttered.

“No!” Jasper snatched my arm and pulled me around to face him. “You trust me. I’m the one who’s saved your arse all those times. I’m the one who stopped them from getting to you.”

I wrenched myself from his grasp. “Frank had nothing to gain and everything to lose confronting me like that. I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

Jasper stopped smirking. “He’s lying to you, Gerard. He has been from the start. He’s in league with them. Just like she is.”

“No,” I said suddenly. “He’s not lying. You’re not real. You’re in my head. I made you up.”

Jasper pinched me hard on the bicep. “Of course I’m real. If I wasn’t real could I do this?” He punched me on the arm. “You felt that. You know I’m real. If I was made up would you really be able to feel me?”

That was an exceptionally good point. I was losing this argument. I didn’t have an answer. If Jasper was real, why could I feel him? That didn’t make sense. Maybe I wasn’t crazy. I felt rather hopeful for a minute.

“Gerard?” Markman had appeared again.

Jesus Fucking Christ! Why doesn’t that woman leave me alone?!

“Why are you always following me? Why don’t you understand I don’t like you?” I asked irritably.

“No, Gerard, why don’t you understand? I’m not going anywhere. I’m always going to follow you. I’m always going to stick around. I’m never going to give up on you. I will always be here. I will be here whether you want me to or not. I think it’s time you got used to it. I’m not like everyone else, Gerard. I refuse to give up on you.”

Oh. Maybe she really did give a shit.

“You give a shit?” I inquired doubtfully.

Markman sighed. “ Yes, Gerard. I give a shit.”

“So do I,” Jasper interjected angrily.

I turned away from them both and tried to swallow but my throat felt like sandpaper. In my head I added the final two bad things to my list.

22. I’m crazy.

23. I’m alone.