Staring at Dr. Hollis now, I realize how much her appearance has changed since I got here. She looks so old and tired. Her shiny light brown hair has a few gray hairs scattered throughout its thinning mass. The once bright blue eyes are now sunken in and have crow’s feet that seem to connect to the just noticeable worry lines on her forehead. I watch as her mouth moves, sometimes to talk and others to press her lips together to show aggravation when I don’t respond because my thoughts have gotten me in a trance. I wish I could call the wrinkles around her mouth laugh lines, but based on her job and previous statements about too much work, they’re not. They aren’t that noticeable. I just have been staring at her too long, while watching for any sign she might be working against me.

She’s not that old. She can’t be passed her thirties. I’ve been here for five years and in that time it seems that she has aged twenty. Maybe it’s a patient she’s seeing and it’s probably me. But, she said she was reluctant to give up my case. She could have been lying. I don’t really know. I hate when I don’t know things.

“Gerard, I would like you to listen. Today’s our last session.” Her voice is like listening through a door, all muffled and low. I’m still in that trance, but now I stare at her desk. I realize this will be the last time I see my file spread across her crappy desk. This will be the last time I stare at the dusty, old books that haven’t been touched or taken from the tall, brown bookcases that surround the room. I start to panic. This is all changing too fast for me.

What if Dr. Iero is just trying to kill me?

Why is Dr. Hollis abandoning my case?

When will the changes ever stop?

Why am I in here?

When will I get out?

What the hell is really wrong with me?

With each question running through my mind, my breathing quickens and my eyes get wider. I can faintly hear Dr. Hollis calling my name in a concerned tone, but my subconscious is too busy laughing at me for being such a hypocrite with all these questions. I’m not saying they’re stupid (I’d very much like the answers to all of them), I just never answer their questions and always expect them to answer mine. I’m losing the ability to get sufficient air and my body starts rocking back and forth.

“Looking like a real crazy person now, Gerard.” A faint cackle is heard.

I can’t really pay attention to him. Dr. Hollis has clamped a supposed to be comforting hand on my shoulder. It’s almost enough to take my mind off the attack. She will most likely joke with her colleagues about this at the next meeting she will go to. They always talk about me. They always laugh about me.

“Gerard.” Gaining volume. “Are you alright, Gerard?” Almost there. “Gerard, something’s on your mind, tell me what it is.” Her voice rings in my ear. My thoughts scurry back into their assigned locations like kids in school, worrying about being expelled for being too harmful.

“Who is Dr. Iero?” I gasp out. My breathing hasn’t gotten back to complete normalcy yet. My heart is thumping with an intensity that hurts my chest. Now my mind laughs at me again. Out of all the questions in my head, I pick the dumbest one to ask.

“He is your new doctor.” She raises her voice, so she can be heard over my laborious panting, along with a curious eyebrow. “I trust that he will help you become stable again.” I don’t know if I can trust her and then also spread my trust to Dr. Iero. “He isn’t here to harm you, Gerard.” She states firmly.

“How do I know that for sure?” The overwhelming sense of urgency in my voice makes me sound weak and fragile.

“I thought you trusted me.” She frowns, causing her wrinkles to become more prominent. “I would never let someone harm you in any way, Gerard.”

“She’s lying to you! Don’t trust her!" Ray yells from his usual hiding place in this office. I flinch at his words. He’s lying to you. He isn’t real. I’m okay. My mind is okay. Calm down.

“I trust you.” I tell the room. I don’t know who I’m saying that to, I just felt it needed to be said. I hate this. My lack of knowledge on things as simple as trust is killing me! I feel so idiotic. I can’t even make up my mind who I can fucking trust.

“I promise I will never let anyone hurt you. I’m doing this for both of our benefit.” She blows out a breath and her shoulders slump forward. “I hate to admit this, but he may be a better doctor than me. He might be able to save you.” That confession both settles and unsettles my nerves. He’s a trusted and excellent doctor, but why the hell does she expect him to ‘save’ me? I know I’m sick. I didn’t know I need to be saved. Let’s put that on a list of things I know but confuse me along with Ray being imaginary but so fucking real to me.

“Save me?” I really look into her eyes for the first time this session; they show me an emotion I don’t like. She regrets her last statement. My eyes probably look like they belong to a child begging for a piece of candy. In this case, that piece of candy could be vital information.

Another breath of air escapes her mouth harshly. “Since you’ve been here, you haven’t improved. No matter how many doctors help assist me, you have not shown enough signs of progress.” She closes her eyes for a moment. She’s deciding on what she should tell me and what should remain locked in my file. “You can’t pretend Ray doesn’t visit you. I can tell he’s here now.” My eyes dart to his signature spot. Ray looks scared like he’s being scolded. Can she see him? “No, I can’t see him. You flinch whenever he says something you aren’t expecting. I’m hoping that Dr. Iero will get him to stay inside your head and quiet or get Ray to go away completely.”

“Can he do that?” I whisper so quietly she might not hear me. She pays so much attention to me that she knows everything I do.

She leaves my side and goes in front of her desk. She leans against it and folds her arms against her chest. “I sure hope so.” She turns her head to look out the window when I try to make eye contact with her. Suddenly, she stands, smoothing her ruffled skirt, and heads back to her chair. “It’s about time for dinner. You should go clean yourself up.” I guess that’s my cue to leave.

*

Shower time has to be the most awkward thing in the universe. I stand there completely naked under my own shower head with every other patient of my gender along with at least one orderly, standing by the doorway. Five years of this and I’m still not used to it. If you look anywhere other than the shower head or yourself, you have a pretty good chance of seeing the junk of some old, crazy guy who has been here since you were born. It’s not a pretty sight.

The almost warm water comes out in a weak spray. I stand there and spread bubbles throughout my too-long, black hair. They don’t even give us shampoo. It’s just the stupid generic soap. I rinse out my hair and work on my body, scrubbing and scratching to get myself clean. I hate the thought of smelling like antibacterial soap, but I can’t stand the thought of smelling like a hobo. I alert the others that I’m done with a squeak from the shower knob. Only a few risk the glance to see what the noise was from, although they should know what it is by now. Their glances cause me to hurry the drying and dressing process up.

I go over to the mirrors away from the dreaded showers. I wash my face and comb through my hair using my fingers. Once that’s done, I lean against the sink with both hands on either side of the sink and stare at myself in the mirror. My murky green eyes analyze my face. I’m so pale from the lack of time I spend outdoors. Of course, they let us outside, but only during times of good weather. Where we are, there is no good weather. My hair has become so long, scraggly and dull from the soap.

Once I’m done criticizing myself, I look into my eyes. I stare, searching for something. I don’t really know what. I just know that they look dead and dull without the happiness that comes with being young and carefree. I can’t be carefree in a mental institution. My eyes have dark bags caused by the lack of sufficient sleep. The possibility that someone could hurt me while I’m vulnerable keeps me up at night.

“Hurry up, Gerard. I’m not staying here all day.” Billy calls to me from the doorway. Breaking the eye contact I was holding with myself, I look around to see who else is in here with me. After I scan through the whole bathroom, I come to the assumption I’m the only one left. I take notice of Billy’s words and scurry out of the bathroom.

“How narcissistic of you to stare at yourself for so long. You aren’t that pretty.” I’m surprised he took so long to come back. “Did ya miss me?”

No, Ray, I did not. I can’t vocalize my thoughts because Billy is still near me. I get to my room and search for my sketchbook and pencils. I need something to do in the cafeteria. I’m not hungry, but I’m sure if I don’t go out there someone will tell Dr. Hollis that I didn’t eat. Actually, now I have to worry about Dr. Iero finding out.

I sit at the same table as I did at lunch time. I gently place my sketchbook on the table. I love this thing and I don’t want them to take it away. I’m surprised they even let me have it in the first place. I delicately open to a fresh page and start my new sketch. I usually just draw the other patients or objects in the building. As it starts to resemble the person, I realize I was drawing Dr. Iero. As if he knew he has become the subject of my attention, he walks through the doorway of the office hallway. His gaze travels throughout the cafeteria. He spots me and makes his way over. I hurriedly and(what I hope was) inconspicuously flip to a different page.

“Hello, Gerard.” Dr. Iero breathes out. Goddammit, that voice makes me weak every fucking time! “I see you’re drawing.” Has Dr. Hollis told him I don’t answer questions? I hate how hypocritical that was. I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I nod my head because I don’t know how to carry on this conversation. He hums “Can I see it?” Wow, that’s a loaded question. I look down at my weathered sketchbook like it will show me the right answer. I don’t really want to give him permission to see my work. He’ll just be analyzing what goes on in my head and not appreciating the art on the paper. I’m not saying I’m an amazing artist, but I would like them to look at the work and not my mind. In my head, I have a debate. Should I let him see it and prove to him that I trust him? Or, should I keep it all closed up and away from seeking eyes? It would be easier to keep it locked away. People couldn’t judge me that way. Dr. Iero couldn’t judge my mentality.

“Soon.” I decided on one of the vaguest answers I could give him. He looks saddened, yet eager to earn the right to see my work. I know I answered a question, but that was the most significant question I had ever been asked in this place. Although it was small, it had so much meaning in it. It made me think hard about how to answer. Even though it was a ‘yes or no’ question, I think he knew I wasn’t going to give him one of those answers.

Notes

The title is about both Gerard's opinion about his looks and his mind. And, maybe Dr. Hollis' opinion about herself. I don't really care about hers.
It could have a better ending, but I'm probably annoying the people in my house with all the typing and clicking at 2 in the morning.
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