Running, that's how the dreams always start. I can feel the sweat bead down my neck almost as if it was real. The air stings my cheeks. The dark forest has become familiar in my dreams, but why? What is the significance of a forest? I duck behind a tree. I'm still wondering about the forest trying to get some sense out of this, and my eyes widen. That familiar lanky figure just 10 yards away sways in the cool air, blending in like he's one of the dark stilt-like trees. His human-looking eyes turn toward me, red veins popping out from his pale undertone, it looks as if he was squinting in my direction. OH NO, I start running every muscle in my body tensing, and my heart beats faster as my pace grows. 

“THUD” My shoe is pulled fast into the brush not willing to be set free, the small thorns scratching all up and down my leg. It was as if tiny needles were sunken into me, my leg was on fire. I couldn’t stop now, but no matter how hard I tugged my foot wouldn’t budge. 

Pull.

Pull.

Pull.

Cold air whips at my neck as I turn, but it isn’t the wind. 

                        The same figure is just 2 feet behind me, extending his branch-like arms.

                                           “BOOM- BOOM- BOOM” 

I shoot open my eyes. The sun showed through my skylight above the bed, and the birds sang happy songs. I inhale deeply its ove-.

“AVERY COLLINS”, my mom pounds as she whips open my door. “I have been calling you for the past 10 minutes”. I sit up quickly, raising my head and tilting it sideways coming up with some half-faked smile, and just groan without anything else to say. I stumble to get up and grab my backpack, almost falling under the weight of it. Suddenly, a small pain grows from the center of my leg, spreading like a fire over my skin. I’m scared to imagine as I see right below my knee is littered with at least 30 small pricks that run deep into my skin. I flinch from the pain, but if I’m here any longer my mom will look at me even weirder than she already does. I mean what could I say to her, sorry I took so long, I was hurt in my dream, and now in real life? She will think I’m crazy if she doesn’t already. 

“Ringgg”

“Rinnggg”

The bells of the day. The sheer noise of them makes me want to rip my ears off. But, now in the school bathroom, my leg starts to pound as if there was a tiny drum inside, and the ache seems to seep deeper and deeper the more I think. Slowly. Carefully. I lay down small bandaids on every single cut, the pain is unbearable, and I must look insane with each concentrated but shaky movement. Small splotches of blood stain my pants, and my eyes swell up. Everything that could go wrong, has. 

I sit there curled up in that little stall, for what felt like hours, and cried and cried and cried till I couldn’t anymore, because if someone sees this what would I do, how would I explain, who could understand? The cloud of emotions swirls and swirls my face stained with water and my cheeks red.

Everything, all of this running and lying is so much to deal with I mean I’m only 16  YEARS OLD. My sleeve is wet and it feels like my leg is coming off as I wobble out of the stall, my heart pounds like I am running a marathon, and I feel like I had just been punched in the face. Then I see her.  She stands in front of me reflecting off of the school mirror, wearing the same clothes as me, and she has the same thick long brown hair. I start to become sick, as this vampire-looking girl with pale skin and a thinner frame from what I used to call my own stares back at me with dark circles under her cold blue eyes. She stares at me and I stare back at her, every movement I make she makes. 

Thats Me. I just stare and stare, and stare like an ongoing cycle. Sure my mom thinks I have gotten in with the wrong crowd, but she will never know what it truly is. I mean I am just a girl with long brown hair and blue eyes, there's nothing extraordinary about that. I play soccer, do okay in school, and live with my mom, who does average work. HOW MUCH MORE NORMAL COULD IT GET? It takes a long while for me to peel my eyes from the mirror, but I must. Classes have already started.

As the clock ticks, the school day stretches and stretches, never-ending. Now what once brought me normalcy has made me feel like a ghost, as I hide in the halls between the forests of people. Catching people's gaze, in their eyes, you knew what they were thinking, with burrowed faces and looks of disgust you knew, you knew what they were thinking. I mean at the beginning of the month everyone would ask what was wrong and why I looked so, well miserable. But now, all that is left is me and my thoughts, as I float along through that crowd-like forest.

“Ring, Ringg” 

Finally, it was time for the end of the day. My last class. I suck in a deep breath of that dusty school air and struggle down the cold fluorescent halls. But then I see him. My relief turns to terror, my throat tenses, I swallow hard, and my heart skips a beat. In front of me is that same tall tree-like man, swaying above many people around him. I’m stuck in the forest again. Surrounded by the trees? No, people. His long limbs stretched out. My head jerks around searching, searching for who? I don’t know, but no one seems to notice him. How could people not notice him? My mind starts to scream and out of nowhere, it's as if my body hunches over the world tilting. Every face in that hallway is on me, as my vision blurs the halls become silent in an instant.

I wake up, and my mind is fuzzy. I’m constricted tight between layers of blankets. I’m back in my room, the lights dimmed to a comfortable mellow. My neck is straining just to turn. 

“Oh good you’re awake, I was worried,” my mom said exasperated, as I just stared and grumbled. My vision fully coming back I now see my mom is sitting beside squeezing my hand. Her warm brown eyes searching and searching and searching, just like me. No not like me; it’s different.

Her happiness quickly turns to concern, the only way my mom had seemed to look at me since the beginning of the month. “Cough Cough, listen,  Avery,” a serious expression covering her face. “ All the students said you suddenly just hunched over and passed out.” I bite my cheek, can’t say anything, I won't say anything. My mom places her hand on my leg, I prepare to feel a shock of pain but I don’t, it is as if my leg is fine. I tense and move my muscles but nothing, how could this happen? It has to have been him, it's always something he does. I’m clenching my fists now as I stretch my gaze directly towards my mother as she starts to fumble her words almost in a whispered tone, “Avery you, you,” she takes a long breath, I have assigned you an appointment with a therapist.” My body jolts back and my mouth moves but nothing comes out. “I see you need some time. Your first session is tomorrow at 3. Oh, and no school for a while.” Then she just turns like she couldn’t say anymore and walks away from my side, and through the door. 

All night my mind was a blur, sleep did not come easy as my thoughts jumbled together in a big roar of paranoia. The man appearing in the hallway cut through my thoughts. I could remember that perfectly but nothing else seemed to make sense. The next morning my eyes were red and puffy, the sun shone almost at the sky's peak. I should be sad about what my mom had told me. I mean she thinks I’m crazy, but the only pain I felt was aches in my muscles as I yanked myself out of bed.  I gripped the railing and slowly stepped down the stairs. My mom is in the kitchen her eyes locked on my every movement as if she was worried for me but I know she's not. I stay sitting in the kitchen unmoving staring at the blank white wall. Morning had come and gone fast, as the clock ticked toward 3. I thought and thought but I wasn’t worried about going to the place,  truly I was shaking deep down because It had been 4 days since he had appeared before me and this was going to be the first time I left my house since then. I shuddered in remembrance. My shaky hand reaching for the counter's edge, my eyes shut tight. 

“You ready to go?” My mom said, appearing from behind my back, catching me off guard. Again her eyes looked directly into mine questioningly. Then she started to lead me into the car. I yanked back my arm but in the end, I didn’t seem to have enough energy to fight back. The time as I am getting ready to leave in the car to my appointment my eyes are glued open, as I tightly squeeze my legs to my chest as if I were a young kid again scared to go to the doctor. Inhaling deeply, the car pulls away from the house I had grown up in. A nice rustic white house not too old, not too new, not too big, not too small. But it is almost nauseating as the car pushes forward away from the only place that kind of feels safe.

Finally, the car pulls up to a simple building, only one big square with white painted brick. The front says Psychiatric Care Center in big white letters laid against the dull brick walls. My mom slowly steps out of the car a proud look on her face, she's probably been waiting to finally send me somewhere like this. Again she has to almost drag me out of the car squeezing my hand like she would never let go. I make my body heavy as she drags me forward. I pull my body back as we walk through the big glass door. The whole place is bland with almost no one but the front desk lady. I feel as if I hear people all around, in different parts of the building, but I don’t see anyone.

“Hello I have an appointment with Dr. Stevens,” politely smiles my mom as she speaks to the receptionist, all the while my knuckles turning white from her grip under the desk top. Even though no one is here we sit there waiting, and waiting as I tap my foot hard against the ground. 

“Ms.Collins, we are ready to see you now in room 108,” comes from a soft lady's voice over an intercom in the corner. Agonizingly we go down the bright hallway decorated in posters that are supposed to make the place feel warm but just rub me the wrong way. Finally, we are about halfway down the hallway.

“Room 108,” my mom reads as she squints her eyes. The door looks giant, threatening. 

My mom squeezes my hand tighter.  Her face with a look of nervousness and hope that I had never seen before. The door seemed to open with a big creek, and my stomach felt like I was about to vomit. I step into the barren room, and I stop dead in my tracks, like a deer in headlights. I clench my teeth hard, my eyes glued to a spot. In that spot stood a man, no not a man a creature with stick-thin limbs, and pale skin, like a tree. The same person that has been in all of my dreams, the hallway, everywhere. Him. I turn to run but my mother is directly behind me, like she's pushing me in. The world turns upside down. Does, my mother have something to do with him? HOW COULD SHE? I don’t know what to say, my eyes just stare unblinkingly at him. HOW COULD SHE?  I find myself running, not running away, running towards him. My emotions are jumbling up. I haven't felt true emotion in so long it feels like they are exploding. I no longer controlled my thoughts. All I knew was hate for him, the strange figure that has ruined and made my life horrible. 

“I HATE YOU!” I scream, biting my cheek hard, twisting back and throwing my fist into him. Smashing my hand into his glasses? 

Wait.

The strange man never wore glasses.  I turn back to see my mother, horror strewn across her face. Then, I feel an intense pinch in my bicep. My body feels limp and my mind is swallowed by clouds. The only thing I can see is the two faces in front of me one of my now bawling mother, and a kind-looking man with round smashed glasses. My mouth is left open as I fall from the wooziness, noticing a small needle sticking from my arm.

It had to only be 10 minutes later when my consciousness was back, but I kept my eyes shut tight, listening. Then I can hear them, two voices out in the hallway.

“I’m sorry Ms.Collins but we had to inject her with Haldol, considering she is worse from when you first notified us,” 

“Yes, I'm very very very sorry about that Dr.Stevens, I’m I’m just so worried about her.”

“We can all understand that and based on what you have told us about her symptoms for the past month we know what it is.” I hold my breath, slightly cracking my eyes to see the same man and my mother talking in the hallway. “We have diagnosed her with a severe case of schizo-” I know what he is about to say, ever since my leg instantly felt better, I knew. I mean I don’t even think it was scratched to begin with. Everything, everything, everything for the past month has been a lie. No wonder no one else could see the man in the hall. He wasn’t even there to begin with. The man hasn’t been doing this to me, I have. My head starts to pound, everything, everything, everything that has happened. I can’t even think about it anymore without knowing I was so wrong, about what was going on with why my Mom looked at me so strangely. Why no one noticed the blood on my pants leg.

It wasn’t real?