I'm not myself.

Despite getting the best sleep I've had in a long time, when I woke up it was like a new me had been placed in my body.

There was no bubble or weird energy.

The woman who stared at me in the mirror after my furiously hot shower at the hospital was a stranger. Gone were the bags under my eyes, but also my light.

I even had an episode in the shower. I had used the condensation as my ink on the fiber glass wall. When I had finished I couldn't even make out what it was. Water droplets had kept disrupting it.

I'm getting worse... losing control of myself. Before, I was going in a slow gradual fall. But now? I'm rolling and tumbling down a steep hill unable to grab a branch or rock to stop myself.

I feel disconnected from everything... and everyone.

Maybe that's why I can't give dad a proper reaction right now?

My fingers touch the table he has sitting on one wall of the garage that he had transformed into a perfect little art studio for me. The table holds all of my painting supplies and light blue latex gloves and everything is brand new.

He painted all the walls a bright white, apart from the one with the girl behind the wallpaper. I purposely ignore her. Some of my paintings I've done since I've come here, he's hung up on the walls. More lighting has been installed and a huge poster of Bob Ross hangs on the other side of the wall.

I want to laugh and hug him.

To revert back to who I was before, but I don't know if that's possible at this point.

I just feel dull.

The air is thick and humid as I walk around unresponsive and apathetic and it hurts to do this to him. It's like I don't know how to sort through my emotions anymore and I'm shut away in some shell like a turtle too afraid to peak its head out.

My feet pause and my head slowly turns until I'm facing her. That little silhouette. My eyes glide down to the little finger then back up to the faceless shadow.

It's a standoff.

"I'm sorry daddy. I think I'm just tired. I'm going to go upstairs to bed if that's okay."

His hand pets the top of my head. "It's okay baby girl. You've been through a lot. I have to go for a club meeting but Adonis is two houses down."

My dry eyes burn as I give him an awkward hug and slowly make my way to my room. Once I'm locked away from the world a splitting pain shoots through my head and I drop my bag to the floor, hissing through my teeth. I rip off my stupid sling as my butt lands on my bed and I put my head between my legs. I breathe out nice and slow as I take my shoes and socks off. Laying back, I throw my good arm over my eyes to stop the daylight from hurting me as my wrist throbs in a dull ache. The stitches on my face also itch like crazy underneath the bandage on my cheek

To make matters worse, my phone rings, amplifying my migraine as the sound bounces around the walls like a racket ball. Without looking, I swipe at it to answer.

"Hello?" I croak, bringing the phone up to my face.

"Georgie Wilkinson?"

I pull my phone away to look at the number that I don't recognize. "Yes, who is this?"

"It's Gabriella Fuentes we met at—"

"Yeah, yeah of course. Ummm, now's not a really good ti—"

"Why would you lie to me? Was this some kind of joke or something?" She's sobs into the phone

I sigh. "I had been expelled so..."

"You didn't go there! They told me they have no record of you ever attending. I made a fool of myself. What the hell is wrong with you."

Her yelling hurts as I try to explain, "I went there. Look, I probably shouldn't have given you my name. They probably see me as a tarnish to their school so I may have lumped you with me. I—"

"You didn't go there!" Her screeching causes me to sit up in defense, but she stops me. "Do you even paint, you demon?"

My phone slips out of my hand and falls to the floor as everything in me convulses. My bare feet hit the floor and start moving me as the word demon wakes something in me. Puzzle pieces start clicking together.

Memories.

"She's demonic, Lorelai. How the hell is this normal? Get this thing, this demon out of my house."

My hand touches the cool wall and it slides along with my slow pace as the bottom of my feet peel off the floor with each step I take.

"Chip, please, you don't understand. She just—"

"I don't want to hear it! Look at her, really look at your daughter. Look at what she's doing, what she's painting for God sake. She's a spawn of Satan. I'm not having that in my house around my kids, do you hear me? It's either her or me, Lorelai."

I walk downstairs as the memory of me having the first episode I ever had in front of Chip flashes in front of me like a neon sign. My body in the memory moves so fast it's eerie and contorting in odd ways to reach certain parts of the canvas. I stand up on the dining table with my easel digging into the expensive varnished furniture, getting pain everywhere.

My feet hit the last step and I can almost feel my mother's kiss on my head and a tear on my shoulder as she parts from my episodic self and cuts the umbilical cord.

"You. I chose you."

It shifts as my hand touches the round part of the rail and I turn feeling the smooth texture of the finished wood against my palm.

A faceless man comes over to me as I continue to paint and tries speaking to me, but I can't hear because it's hushed. When I don't pay him any mind. He tries lightly grabbing my hand to pull me away. That's when chaos erupts and I start clawing and tearing away at him, smearing paint all over his scrubs. Some men and women come behind him but he lets me go and holds his hand out for them to stop.

"Let her finish."

"Let her finish? I want this girl out of my house now!" Chip booms.

They all start arguing but stop once my calm and confused voice breaks through.

"Mom, what's going on?"

My mom looks at me with a moment of sorrow but then steals herself, taking a deep breath and lifting her chin.

"You need help, Georgie. These people... this place Chip and I found. They're going to help you."

"What?" I look around taking the nurses in.

"I can't help you anymore. This is what needs to be done."

"No!" I scream as the nurses calmly try to take me away. Horror and betrayal are written all over my face as I look at my mother. Before one of the nurses can touch me I dart away and they run right after me, but it's a pathetic attempt. They get a hold of me with ease as I kick and scream and beg.

"Mom, please. Don't do this. Please. I promise I'll stop. It won't happen again."

"I'm sorry, Georgie."

I now stand in front of the yellow and rose wallpaper. Gabriella had been right. I was never there.

I was in a psych ward.

The uniforms. What college has kids wear uniforms? Josie... the guy playing make believe frisbee. They were patients.

The dean... he was my doctor.

The sleeping pills.

Everything is making sense now as all the hallucinations fall away and expose the reality of what had happened to me.

"You're being released, Miss Wilkinson."

I was never expelled.

My eyes travel along the line where a new slab of wallpaper begins until it finds a small almost unnoticeable tear.

I am schizophrenic.

Dad's voice echoes in my mind.

"No, you aren't."

"Understand you aren't schizophrenic."

"Just trust me, okay?"

Liar.

Liar!

LIAR!