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  “Jason, please don’t!” a cry sounded from straight ahead. My eyes snapped open at the sound of Lyle’s voice. Was I still hallucinating? I watched as my brother’s face appeared in the center of the cops, being held back by one of the officers. Instantly I noticed his face was clear of the bruises and swelling he had just last night. How… How was that possible? How was he there? Vinny and Roger had him… “Please, please put the gun down, Jase. Don’t do this,” my brother begged with tears in his eyes. I was speechless, not at all understanding how in the world he was with the police officers. My jaw just dropped, unable to make sense of it. I kept the gun to my temple, not willing to lower it yet.

  “I’m sorry I called the cops. I didn’t know what else to do,” Lyle called over to me.

  My brow furrowed. Lyle called the cops on me? How? How did he even know what I was going to do? We had never talked about robbing a bank to get the money… “How… how are you here right now?” I asked him, my voice hardly above a whisper. “A-and why would you call the cops on me, Lyle? Why would you do that? All I’ve been trying to do was ensure your safety…”

  He took a deep breath and looked to me with sincerity, “Jason… Vinny and Roger aren’t real.”

  “Are you fucking with me? Why would you say that? Are you trying to make me look even crazier than they think I am? You told me you believed me!” I snapped at him, not understanding at all why he was betraying me like this.

  Lyle bit his lip, shaking his head. “I did, Jase… I did…”

  “Then what changed?! Huh?! D-did they brainwash you or something? They figured out what I was doing and sent you here to discredit me? To make me look like the bad guy?” I pressed him, my face morphing into a snarl.

  Lyle looked at me with the utmost concern, his gray eyes locking with mine, “Where do you think you are right now?” he asked me in a gentle, almost patronizing tone.

  “Don’t use that voice on me,” I snapped. It was the same voice Lyle used to talk to our mom when she had a manic episode.

  “Jason… Just look behind you. I don’t think you know where you are,” Lyle called to me in the same voice. What? I knew exactly where I was. Just to appease him, I turned my head to look back at the bank.

  But it wasn’t the bank. I wasn’t on the other side of the neighborhood, I was standing in the road right outside my parents’ house. The shock of the sight made me fall to the ground. My head was killing me as I tried to make sense of it. How was I already back at my parents? I just stepped out of the bank, and it was at least a twenty-minute walk back to the house. Unless Lyle was right... But that couldn’t be true, that didn’t make sense. I had met Vinny and Roger at my dad’s funeral, before the drugs and the drinking. How could I have imagined all that? How could I have beaten myself senseless on numerous occasions? Why would I have burned myself on the stove?

  I really couldn’t wrap my brain around any of it. I felt like someone was really messing with me, wanting me to feel like I was going insane. If someone was, they were doing a fantastic job. I didn’t know who to trust or what to believe. Then, my eyes fell down to my shoulder where the bullet hit me. There was no gunshot hole or blood, or even pain. How… How had I imagined that pain? I had never been shot before, I wouldn’t know what it would feel like. You still don’t know how it feels—that was how you imagined getting shot would feel, the voice in my head explained to me.

  I was tempted to squeeze the trigger just to get the voice to be quiet, I had enough going on in my head without it adding. How much had been in my head? How long had I been hallucinating? Was I even a doctor? Did I go to college? Who was to say everything that had happened in the last decade wasn’t just some prolonged hallucination? Like mothers started caring for baby dolls after losing their own children. What if making myself believe I was a doctor was the only way I had escaped my horrible reality? What if I had never gotten out of my hometown?

  My mind was completely frenetic, trying to find any shred of reality that I could claim. My whole life felt like it was in question at that point. If I could have imagined all of this madness—from drug dealers stalking me to robbing an imaginary bank—and could hurt myself so severely, how was I supposed to believe anything coming from my own mind? Just pull the trigger, and you won’t have to worry anymore.

  “I’m begging you, Jason, put the gun down. We can get you help,” Lyle pressed.

  “Why should I? I don’t know what’s even real anymore,” I sobbed. “I’d be better off dead.”

  “Don’t say that! I need you in my life. I already lost you for eight years, I don’t want to lose you for good. I’ll help you any way I can. We will work this out together. For us to do that, you have to put that gun down. Please, Jason. You were doing all of this to protect me. If you want to protect me, you won’t do this.”

  “I’ll rot away in a mental ward,” I cried. “What kind of life is that?”

  “It’ll be a life, for starters. Which is more than what you’ll have if you pull that trigger, Jase. And you’ll have me. I care about you I wouldn’t have called the cops if I didn’t. I would have just left you in there, waving that gun around the house. Don’t make me bury another person, please. I can’t lose you,” Lyle managed to call to me before breaking down in sobs. The cop holding him back had to catch him as Lyle’s knees buckled.

  Goddamnit, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t pull the trigger, not there right in front of my brother. It would ruin him. For his sake, I lowered the gun and put it on the ground, sliding it toward the officers so that they wouldn’t think I was going to grab it again. I completely broke down as soon as it was away from me. My last resort was gone—I was going to have the same fate as my mother. The rest of my days would be spent heavily sedated in a padded cell. My entire body collapsed to the ground, uncontrollable, violent sobs erupting from me. The real flashbacks of the last two weeks passed before my very eyes. Stumbling around drunk when I thought I was being attacked by the two thugs, leaning myself back as I pressed my shoulder blade to the hot eye, pointing the gun all around the kitchen as I searched the ‘bank’ for whoever fired a gun at me. All of it had been in my head. Why? Why had I done all this? Why had my own mind tormented me so much? What kind of twisted fate was this?

  It was all too much for me to process. Out of everything I had experienced in the last two weeks, this was what didn’t feel real. How could this be the outcome of it all? Even if I had gone crazy and Vinny wasn’t real, how had it gotten so out of hand that the only way out I saw was to kill myself? And why did it still sound tempting? It felt like my body was rejecting reality, my entire body screaming in pain as my mind vocalized my emotional pain. I was just screaming and screaming at the top of my lungs. At the brink of total insanity, some things were made crystal clear to me. I wasn’t in control of my body, and I hadn’t been in control of my mind in days. The mental illness that afflicted me had taken over, making me do things I would never do—both in my hallucinations, and in reality. And that some part of me, deep, deep down had known since I first heard that whispering voice when I was caring for Mrs. Reynold’s that something was severely wrong. But I had wanted so badly to never become my parents, that I had actually driven myself to turn into both of them. Crazy like my mother, and abusing drugs like my father. I also knew that taking all of those pills had been my mind and body’s way of self-medicating. I hadn’t been able to face the truth yet. Really, I still wasn’t. And I had no desire to face the truth, but I knew I was going to have to.

  As the police officers and paramedics rushed over to me, I felt myself twitching all over. At first, I thought I was having a panic attack. But the twitching rapidly turned into convulsing, and I felt my eyes roll back in my head. Was I in shock? Had I overdosed on hydrocodone? I could hear Lyle screaming in the background, begging the officers to let him near me. Even though I knew then that Lyle had never been in any danger, my last thought before I blacked out was: at least Lyle is safe.

  CHAPTER
NINETEEN: VISITING DAY

  Lyle Gilmore— One Month Later

  The thick metallic door buzzed as I was finally paged inside, the door swinging open. Walking down the horribly lit corridor, I rubbed my palms onto my pant legs, trying to get the sweat off of them. I don’t know why I was so nervous to see him, I had been looking forward to it all month. Reaching the end of the hall, I approached the door to the visitation room. I looked through the window on the door, scanning the tables to try and spot him.

  Taking a deep breath, I reached for the door handle and opened it up. It wasn’t very loud in the room, as I had expected it to be for some reason. My eyes still searched through the faces in the room, not yet finding my brother. But then I spotted him sitting in the corner, his olive eyes fixated out the window. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, heading over to him. When I grew close to his table, I slowed my pace, not wanting to sneak up on him and surprise him. “Hey Jason,” I called to him softly.

  Standing so close to him, I could see the changes in his facial features. No longer was stress aging him, Jason actually looking twenty-eight like he was meant to. His eyes still had bags underneath them, though, and his eyes themselves were glazed over. It took him several moments to turn his head to look at me, moving more like a sloth than my brother. I gave him a friendly smile. “Can I sit with you?” I asked him. He nodded slowly but didn’t utter a word. Jason was definitely heavily sedated. “How are you doing? They treating you okay?” I asked him. I wasn’t meaning to come off like I was pushing him to talk, I just couldn’t control my mouth with being excited and nervous to see him.

  Jason still didn’t talk, only giving me a shrug. He was completely out of it. How many drugs did they have him on? Jason had just been transferred to that hospital ward a week ago, having spent three weeks in jail while his public defender tried to get his case expedited because of his mental condition. Desperate to get Jason to at least try and communicate with me, I opened my mouth again, “So I start college in a couple of weeks. It’s actually in this city.” It had really been a stroke of luck that he had been placed in that hospital. Jason gave another painfully slow nod, his eyes not budging from whatever he was focused on outside of the window.

  Even though it was hard for me to do, I pushed through his silence and made small talk with him. I told him how some random guy actually offered to buy our parents’ house, and that I was using that money to save for when he got better so that we could get a place together. Jason had to be cleared by his doctors before he could be released from the hospital, as well as appear again in court. But I expressed my faith that he would do it. Jason never uttered a word. My heart broke, but I knew this was going to be the hardest part for him. While they got him into therapy and tried to get him on a medication regiment that worked for him, he was going to be heavily medicated so that they could control him. He would get better, I knew he would. Jason may never return to being a doctor, but I knew that the future was bright for the both of us. Heck, our mother was even doing better since she was in assisted living—she called me every evening and told me about her day. It may not be anytime soon, but hopefully we would all be a family again one day.

  Somehow, I managed to ramble to him for a full half hour. Soon, there was a light ringing sounding from overhead. From across the room, a woman was clapping her hands together, “Okay, family and friends! Visiting time is over! Don’t forget to sign out on your way out.”

  I sighed. I didn’t want to leave Jason, but I didn’t want the people to kick me out. “Alright, well I guess I have to go,” I murmured as I stood.

  As I moved away from the table, a hand suddenly was grasping mine. My eyes looked back to Jason. His glassy eyes were locked onto me. Guilt gripped at my throat. It was the first time he had really looked me in the eyes since his breakdown. And as I looked back into his eyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if what happened to him was my fault. Would he have been okay if I would have never found him when our dad passed away? I had lost several nights of sleep over that question. His chapped lips parted, “I love you, little brother,” he told me, his words a little slurred. I could tell by the look in his eye that it was taking all of his concentration to be able to just say those couple of words to me.

  I did my best to hold my composure, smiling down at him, “I love you too, Jase. I’ll be back every week to see you. I promise.” Even though the school year was starting and I knew things would get hectic for me personally, I wasn’t willing to give up on him. He had fought thugs and robbed a bank for me. Sure, those things hadn’t been real, but it had been real to him. And Jason had fought until he had nothing left just to try and protect me. He deserved the same kind of compassion.

  Jason nodded at me, a weak smile pulling at his lips before he rested his head against the window and let his eyes fixate on the same spot. “Mr. Gilmore?” a voice called from behind me.

  I turned to see a middle-aged African-American man standing next to me in a lab coat and tie. “Yes?” I questioned him.

  “I’m Dr. Yeatts. I’m your brother’s psychiatrist. Would you mind if I walked you out?” he asked me, a polite smile on his face. Why did he want to walk me out? Did he have some information on Jason’s condition? I nodded to him, and he gave me a brilliant smile, “Excellent.” Dr. Yeatts then led me to the door I had entered from. Giving one last glance back to Jason, we left the visitation room. “So this isn’t any sort of formal meeting, I just wanted to touch base with you since you are your brother’s legal caregiver,” Wow, I hadn’t realized that. It was a little surreal to even think about. He had raised me up until the time he moved out, so for me to be in charge of him… It was weird. “Do you have any questions for me?”

  “I have a million,” I smiled weakly at him, scratching the back of my neck. “I guess there’s one that’s been eating at me…” I admitted.

  “I’m all ears,” Dr. Yeatts smiled.

  “Well… What caused him to… to snap? I mean, he was a doctor before… Is it because he came home?” In other words, I was asking if it was my fault, without asking him outright.

  Dr. Yeatts shook his head, “No, no. I can’t get into the exact details, but Jason was exhibiting symptoms before your father’s death. I think he had a lot of pain and regret he never allowed himself to process. And he associated all of his negative feelings, to the childhood home; so his mind fractured and tried to deal with all of the negative memories at once. But, while returning home did act as a catalyst, Jason already had the underlying genetic condition for it because of your mother. He was a ticking time bomb, really. So he was lucky to have someone like you around to convince him to get the help he needed. If this episode would have occurred when Jason was alone, I fully believe he wouldn’t be here today.”

  It was a lot to process, but I think I understood what the doctor was saying. His words didn’t erase my guilt, but it definitely eased it. So I hadn’t caused him to go crazy, but having him come back to our hometown definitely hadn’t helped. I tried to take what Dr. Yeatts said to heart, that Jason wouldn’t be alive if it hadn’t been for him being around me. That summer had been a complete nightmare, but maybe it all happened the way it did had for a reason. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, my father’s death had saved my brother’s life. If my dad hadn't overdosed, Jason wouldn’t have been back home when he broke down. He would have gone on living his life, destined to crack one day, and would have taken his own life.

  I was lost in my thoughts, thinking over everything Dr. Yeatts had just told me. Before I knew it, we were entering the lobby of the hospital ward. “Do you have any other questions for me?” he asked me. Blinking, I cleared my throat and tried to search my mind for any other questions. Before, I had a million, but I was struggling to pinpoint one I wanted to ask. He must have seen in my face how hard I was thinking. Dr. Yeatts pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it over to me. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to ask them all right now. Email or call when you think of
these questions. Remember, dealing with a mental illness isn’t just a personal healing process, but a family process as well. Don’t hesitate to reach out. And I assure you, Jason is in good hands.”

  A smile pulled at my lips, actually feeling a little bit better. I was so happy that Jason’s public defender had gotten him into that hospital. For the first time in a long time, I truly felt hopeful instead of trying to force myself to be. Things were going to get better. “Thank you, Dr. Yeatts. I definitely will.”

  The man gave me a nod and a handshake before stepping away. Tucking his card into my jacket pocket, I headed to the elevator and waited for one going down to arrive. The metal doors opened, and a couple of doctors climbed off, but I was the only one to step into the elevator. Pressing the ground level, I leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. When the elevator heaved to move, a piercing ringing returned to my ears. God, Jason’s breakdown had been a month ago, and the ringing from the gunshots he fired in the house was still in my ears. Why wouldn’t it go away already? The elevator reached my floor and I walked off, tapping my ear along the way to trying rid of the constant ringing. With the ghost of a smile still on my face, I headed for the bus stop outside of the hospital, needing to head to campus for orientation. The next chapter in my life was finally beginning.