11.2

“Fix me?”

“Yes, Sile. Fix you. Unfortunately, I think that’s what I’m going to have to do in this hopeless case. You just won’t believe that your stupid brother and stupid father aren’t real!”

The crazy psychiatrist turned around and walked toward a table. He grabbed something that looked like a big metal hat in one hand and something skinny in the other. He whipped around and ran at me.

“AHHHHH! What are you doing?!” I screamed.

“It’s for your own good, Sile! I NEED TO FIX YOU!”

Bill jammed the metal hat on my head and jabbed a skinny needle into my arm. Immediately, I could feel the dark liquid burn its way up my arm and through my system. Bill then turned a switch on the helmet I was wearing and the electric shocks began...

An hour later, I woke up. I was lying on a cream-colored loveseat in Dr. Muze’s office and, although I couldn’t remember how I fell asleep, all I could think about was how comfortable the couch was. I almost wanted to fall back asleep.

“Well, good morning, Sile! Have a nice nap?” A tall man laughed and sat down across from me.

“Dr... Dr. Muze?”

He laughed and said, “Bill, remember. Call me Bill. Well, that’s all the time we have for today. I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel my other appointment. I am wiped out.”

I stood up and Bill walked me out of the office.

“Thank you for coming. I think we made a big break-through today. Should I pencil you in for next week?”

“Yes. Thank you, Bill.” Still confused, I left the building and took several deep breaths. Outside the door I heard Bill telling his next patient, the man from the Castle Apartments, that he couldn’t take him. Poor man. Maybe if I hadn’t fallen asleep he would have had his appointment. I almost went back inside to apologize for taking up so much time, but decided against it.

The walk home was a blur. I kept tripping on the uneven sidewalks and forgetting which turns to take. When I finally got home, I made myself a cup of tea to try to relax and unwind.

Suddenly the door caved in! The man from the waiting room stood over the broken wood. He was sweating, like he had just been running. He strutted through the wreckage and forcefully grabbed my arm. I saw hatred in his eyes. Enough hatred to cover the fear.

Before I could scream or plead or run, he lifted a knife high above my head and shoved it into my stomach.

I felt cold. Sile! someone whispered.

He stabbed me again.

Sile! The whisper grew louder.

And again.

Sile!! Now a shout.

The dropped knife and I sank to the floor. Blood soaked my clothes, my floor, my skin. I heard Felix meowing in the other room. And still that voice calling my name.

Sile! You’re here!

Who are you? I asked.

Don’t you recognize us? We’ve been waiting for you. Two men, one young and one very very old, stood in front of me. They wore white.

You've been waiting for me?

Yes! We weren't sure when you would come.

Who are you?

Sile, it’s Arlen and Pops! Don’t you remember us?

As soon as the man said the names, my brain exploded. It felt like 1000 electric shocks ran through my head at once.  

“Ughhh...” I said.

My murderer picked up the knife and stabbed me one last time.

Sile. It’s Arlen. You brother.

He walked towards me, arms outstretched. I backed away.

I don't know who you are. I said. I've never met either of you before.


But something about the men looked vaguely familiar. Like I knew them in another life. 


Sile, please. We've waited so long. He reached towards me again and touched my arm. My head exploded again, as if the previous shock were amplified.
I... I'm sorry... I backed away again and held my head in my hands. I started to see spots. A plethora of grays and blacks blurred my vision, blocking out the two men who I somehow recognized but didn't remember.


As the dull colors swallowed the scene in front of me, the shocks went off in my head like fireworks. They were so strong I could hear them.


Stop! Stop it! My head...


Sile, release the pain. Release the pain of remembering! 


I couldn't understand what he meant. Release the pain? What did that mean? 


Accept it, Sile. Release it.


Suddenly I understood. I raised my head and let the shocks come. My head split open from the pain, releasing repressed memories and withheld regrets. The black spots grew bigger around my eyes, blocking out any distraction but my torture.


Screaming, I looked up and saw my father and my lovely brother standing in front of me, arms spread wide.


Arlen! I shouted, just as the black splotches in my eyes completely blinding my family from me. I stuck out my arms, searching for them with my arms but didn't feel them. Crying and screaming, I sank to the ground and started falling. I fell into complete blackness – until everything was gone.

11.1

The day started with a checkout and an appointment. After I woke up, the doctor came in to release me from the hospital. He asked me seemingly never-ending questions about how I was feeling and if I could feel certain touches and then told me to get dressed. He left to fill out some documents while I changed and, when he returned, he walked me out of my old room.

“Where are Arlen and my father?” I asked. “They know I’m being discharged today.”

The doctor glanced at me sideways and said, “I’m sure Dr. Muze will answer all your questions for you. Remember, your appointment is at three o’clock.”

“Yes. Thank you doctor.”

“You are welcome to stay in our waiting facilities until then.”

“Thank you doctor, I think I will,” I said. He pointed me to the lounge area and I took a seat in one of the plush brown armchairs.

Waiting for my meeting with Dr. Muze alone felt like torture. All I could think about was why Arlen and Pops hadn’t come to pick me up. Arlen heard the doctor tell me last night that I the hospital was discharging me. He had been there. I’d seen him. I held his hand.

Four and half hours later, I realized it was about time for my appointment with Dr. Muze. I asked the front desk and asked where his office was located in the building.

“Second floor, second door when you exit the elevator,” a nurse said.

Following these instructions, I rode the elevator for about 17 seconds and exited on the second floor. I found Dr. Muze’s office easily and signed in when I entered the room.

There was only one other patient in the office – a man I recognized. He lived in my apartment building. He didn’t look up from his magazine, though, and I didn’t want to disturb him.

“Sile N’Bhroin,” the psychiatrist said into the waiting room. “You’re up.” He smiled a great big, white smile and held his hand out to me.

I stood up and took his hand. The other man in the waiting room looked slightly miffed when I was called. Perhaps the doctor had double-booked us.

The next room I entered was much cozier and smelled a lot nicer than the waiting room.

“Have a sit, Sile. Make yourself comfortable.”

I sat on the end of a cream-colored loveseat. It was the most comfortable couch I’d ever sat on.

“My name is Dr. Bill Muze. But please call me Bill. Tell me a little about yourself.”

I looked at the doctor, but my mouth stayed shut.

“I understand that you had a little accident several months ago. It’s been a long recovery, hasn’t it? Would you like to start off with that?”

My eyes dropped to the floor.

“The nurses tell me that you have two frequent visitors. Your brother and your father, right? How about we talk about them for a while?”

I looked back up at the doctor and fought off a smile. “You mean, the nurses saw my family?”

“Not exactly. They said that you talk an awful lot about your family though. They seem to think that you think that your brother and father visited you in the hospital. Did they?”

“Almost everyday,” I replied.

“Right. Sile, tell me. Has anything weird ever happened when you were with them? Did anyone ever look at you strangely?”

I thought about Sister Marta, Christophe, and Spring, the runner from the forest. “I’ve gotten... a few confused glances.”

“That’s what I thought,” Bill said. “I think I’m starting to understand the problem. Tell me, is your brother here now? Your dad?”

“No, I haven’t seen them all day. I don’t know where they are.”

Bill chuckled and said, “That’s because you’re on medication. We injected a medicine called Acyngelitin into your IV last night. It’s an experimental drug for patients with Schizophrenia.”

“Schizo... Schizophrenia?”

“Yes. You were showing signs of Schizophrenia from the moment you entered the hospital – you have very severe dreams that we monitored on a brain scan.”

“You monitored me?”

“I’m afraid so. I was called into look at you as soon as you got here. A friend of yours, Mr. Moreau, told us that you might have some pre-existing mental issues,” Bill said. “Since you lacked a mental record, he thought it best to inform the clinic staff of your illness.”

“My illness?”

“Yes, Sile. After completing several tests and treating your most pressing physical ailments – you did break several bones, you know – we discovered that you, my dear, suffer from Schizophrenia.”

He paused, hoping to let that sink in.

“You see people, Sile. You see your brother Arlen and your father. You hear them. You were spending almost everyday with them before you decided to jump off that building. And now, I’m here to help you. To tell you that they don’t exist. They’re not real.”

My mouth fell open and I shook my head. “That’s... that’s... can’t be...”

“It’s true. Please believe me. It’s the first step to a recovery.”

“No! It’s not true. They... they’re real...”

“Oh, Sile. I was afraid you would say that.” Bill shook his head and pointed a finger at me. “Did you know, Sile, that I’m considered a miracle worker at this crummy clinic. The nurses worship me. The doctors refer everyone to me! I’m that good!” Bill spat in my face with that last “good.”

“But you know, when I’m faced with difficult patients like you, I have to make difficult decisions,” he said. “Do I go through years of psychiatric help just to fail with you,” Bill stood up, “or do I fix you my way.”

10

The day started in bright red flames. My whole body felt like it was on fire. Yellows, oranges, and and blues surrounded me, engulfing my arms and legs. As the flames licked up my limbs, closing in on my heart, I heard a scream from somewhere outside of me -- a shriek so deafening my eyes vibrated.

With every shake my eyes opened a little bit more until finally I woke up. The flames disappeared but their sweltering heat remained on my skin.

"Ughhh..."

"Sile! Thank god you're okay. We never though you would wake up," a familiar male voice and a familiar hand greeted me when I awoke.

"Hmmm... Ughh... Who...?" I struggled to get anything out.

"Shhhh Sile. Calm down. The doctors don't want you overexerting yourself," he said. "We're here for you though."

"Arlen?" I closed and reopened my eyes to see my brother sitting on the end of my bed. "Is that you?"

"Yes! Sile, it's me and pops." I could hear the smile in his voice. "We're both here."

"Wha... what happened? Where...?" I asked.

"Shhh Sile. Relax. You're in the hospital. You took a nasty tumble off the roof of your apartment building," Arlen said. "13 stories. It's a miracle you survived."

I looked around and saw my father sitting in a rocking chair near the door of my room. He stood up and took my hand when I looked at him. He smiled. I was still confused.

Just then a doctor in a nice white jacket came in and said, "Sile N'Bhroin?"

I glanced up.

"You've almost made a full recovery. We're discharging you tomorrow."

"Doctor... Thank you..." I said.

"Miss N'Bhroin, one last thing. A fellow patient who says he knows you requested that we sign you up for a meeting with the clinic's psychiatrist. You have a meeting with him tomorrow at 3:00," the doctor said. "You can stay here until then."

With that, the clean doctor nodded to me and backed out of the door. Arlen and my father turned their heads towards me.

Suddenly I felt the flames on my arms again and they began to reappear. I closed my eyes and met the wild fire behind my eyelids.

9

I visited Christophe in the hospital everyday for three weeks. Sometimes Arlen came with me, sometimes he didn’t. Christophe seemed to be making a slow, but definite recovery. He was talking now and described to me how he occupied his time. He met a girl (also a patient) and told me of their conversations. Honestly, their budding friendship bugged me a little. Although I would never admit that to Christophe.

One day, Arlen and I went in to check on Chris. I brought him some lunch – he’s always complaining about the disgusting hospital food.

We walked through the hospital to his room, B26.

“Good morning!” I said. “Arlen came with me today. We brought you lunch.” I placed the paper bag on the end of his bed and sat down in one of the three chairs in the room.

“Oh, Arlen’s here, is he?” Chris asked.

“Of course, he’s right here. Come in the light Arlen, so he can see you.” Arlen walked into the room and took the seat next to mine.

“How are you feeling, Chris? You’re looking much better,” he said.

“He’s been dying to come, Chris,” I said.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry it has taken me so long to visit.”

Christophe looked from my face to Arlen’s. His eyes moved so fast between the two that I thought they would fall out of his sockets.

“Sile...” he said.

“What’s the matter? Do you need me to call a nurse?”

“No, it’s not that... I’m fine... I just need to... to talk to you.”

“What about, Chris?” he paused and I said, “Spit it out.”

I gave him an encouraging smile and nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I think... I think you might need some help.”

I hesitated for a moment. “What do you mean, Chris?”

“I think you’ve been... seeing things.”

“Seeing things? Like hallucinations?”

“It’s been going on for a while, Sile. I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might be a coping mechanism, but it’s... well, it’s clear to me that you really think you see him.”

Trying to hold back a few giggles, I said, “Chris, what are you talking about? See who?”

“See Arlen.”

I stopped giggling. “Arlen? What do you mean? He’s here. He’s right here!” I pointed to Arlen, who was laughing a little.

“Oh Sile, don’t you see he’s kidding,” Arlen said. “Just a little light humor, right mate?”

I looked at Christophe, whose eyes were unwaveringly on mine. He didn’t seem to hear Arlen.

“Sile... There’s nobody there,” Christophe said.

I started hyperventilating. Chris was obviously crazy. Maybe he hadn’t been making any progress at all. Maybe he was getting sicker. He must have been getting sicker. I stood up suddenly and grabbed Arlen’s hand.

“We have to go. I’ll call the nurse in. You obviously need some help.” Hand in hand, Arlen and I walked out of his room and back out through the hospital, ignoring the shouts coming from Christophe’s room. When we left the building, I started running home, dragging Arlen behind me.

“Sile, relax! Everything is okay!” He jerked my hand back and wrapped his arms around me. “Shhhh... It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“Arlen, let’s get out of here. Let’s leave. Let’s go back to Ireland with dad. Please. Let’s just go back...”

“You know,” he said, holding my head in his hands, “I think that’s a fantastic idea.” He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. He took my hand again and we walked slowly to Castle Apartments.

Arlen suggested that we walk through Sherwood Forest to get home – he thought it would calm me down a bit. Even in the daytime, the forest was dark. We were so busy looking at trees and squirrels and other distracting things, that we didn’t see the runner speeding down our path. She apparently didn’t see us either because the next second, we all three were on the forest floor, dirt in our faces. Breathing in the damp leaves and lying on the tree roots reminded me of the old man with his flying bulls who granted my wish to go to a happier time. Smiling to myself, I stood up and brushed my shirt off saying, “I’m so sorry. We were hardly looking where we were going!”

“Oh that’s alright,” said the runner. “I wasn’t watching either. I’m Spring, by the way.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it.

“I’m Sile. And this is my brother Arlen.” Arlen smiled but Spring gave him a funny look. She looked at my face again with a similar expression and said, “Yeah, well, I better go. It was nice meeting, uh... both of you...”

She moved to the right of me. She glanced at me once last time before plugging her earphones back in and taking off. Her first step though, was directly at Arlen. She must be very unobservant because she started to run into him for the second time. Right as their bodies should have collided though, a strange thing happened. Spring ran straight through him. One minute she was in front of him, about to collapse into his body, and the next she was behind him, running happily through Sherwood.

I looked at Arlen. I looked at Spring’s back.

“What’s the matter, Sile?” Arlen asked. He didn’t notice what happened.

“Didn’t you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

Confusion settled in. Spring definitely walked straight through my brother. I stuck out my arm and felt Arlen’s shoulder. But the longer I held onto his arm, the less I felt his warmth, his strength. My brain started flipping around inside my head, trying to understand what I wasn’t feeling.

I started to run. How could Spring walk through him? How could I not feel him? How was he standing right next to me but unseen by everyone else?

“Sile? Sile! Where are you going?!” 


On the way home, I ran past my old, grimy friend. I never realized he was so old or tattered. I felt tricked; his appearance was a little disappointing. I slowed down in front of him. He picked his head up as if he sensed me. Arlen called my name, running to catch up, and the blind man didn't even acknowledge my brother's voice. He didn't hear him.

I ran back through town and to Castle Apartments and sprinted up countless steps to the roof. I ran 36 strides to the side of the building and stood up on the ledge.

Below me walked little ants that I knew were people. I saw small buildings, cars driving on the streets, birds flying in the grayish sky above the world.
I wonder if I can fly, I thought. “I said I wonder if I can fly!” Nothing was keeping me grounded. Looking at the dull birds instead of at the ground below, I spread my arms, held my head high, and jumped.

8

“Oh Sile, it’s wonderful to hear from you!” Tears and lack of oxygen prevented me from responding.

“How are you? Gosh, it’s been ages!” he said. I don’t know how I was speaking to him – he was supposed to be dead.

“I’m just fine, Arlen. How are things at home? How’s pops?”

“Oh Lord! Didn’t I tell you? We’re visiting from Limerick. The nuns at the Cathedral have put us up for several weeks.”

“That’s right down the street from where I live! Don’t go anywhere, I’m coming to get you.”

I quickly hung up the phone and pulled on a sweater. After giving Felix one long stroke, I left my apartment and ran down countless stairs to the Cathedral.

In minutes, I was at the gate. An old nun greeted me and introduced herself as Sister Marta.

“Hello Sister, I’m looking for Arlen and Joe N’Bhroin. They’re staying here.”

The nun gave me a strange look and said, “There is no one in the Cathedral with either of those names by my knowledge. I’m terrible sorry.” She started walking away.

“Wait! Please, just call for them, I’m sure they’ll come down.”

She nodded and gave me a pleasant but all too sympathetic smile before she left. Five minutes later, she returned to the gate ushering Arlen and my father to the entrance.

“Arlen! Father!” I clung to the poles of the gate as my family ran to me.

“My girl, my baby girl.” My father touched my hair and rubbed my cheeks.

“Please, please open the gates, Sister Marta,” I asked. She gave me another bizarre look, like she thought I was insane. Slowly though, she made her way to us and unlocked the gates. My father and brother both leapt on me and squeezed as hard as possible. I started crying, then Sister Marta touched my shoulder and asked, “Are you alright, ma’am?” I nodded and kissed her hand.

“Thank you! Thank you for keeping them. Thank you.” Then, our small family, all huddled together, walked away from the Cathedral.

“Let’s get some breakfast, it’s so early,” my father said. “Sile, what’s good around here?”

“Casa de Waffles? It’s cheap and they have great deals.”

Still huddled together, we walked to Casa de Waffles. On the way, we passed the clinic and I heard Judy Garland’s soft voice escape from a radio. My eyes jumped to the sound and I saw lying in a bag of garbage, the most disgusting man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He was old. He wore tattered clothing and his unshaved beard clung to his dirt-colored face. I didn’t recognize this man at all. But something seemed vaguely familiar about him. Like I’d known him in a past life.

The man signed and turned on his side. I realized where I knew him from.

“Let’s keep going, it’s not far now.”

I still had to count steps to get to Casa de Waffles because I had never seen the city before. I didn’t know street names or what certain buildings looked like. Seeing my city for the first time, I discovered that I like counting steps better. I almost missed the overwhelming blackness to which I was accustomed. At least then I could fantasize about what the city looked like. I always imagined a newly paved road winding through shiny buildings and bright green trees. Everything looked gray to me today.

What’s the point of seeing the city if this is what you’re looking at?

Finally Arlen, my father, and I reached the waffles. We walked in, grabbed a table, and ordered three variously flavored waffles.

“So how have you two been?” I asked. “It’s been far too long since our last reunion.”

Arlen laughed and said, “Amen! I’ve been doing pretty well. Been working. Odd jobs.”

“What sorts of jobs?”

“Oh this and that.” Yikes.

“What about you dad, how have you been?”

“Oh c’mon Sile. I’m old. I’m tired. How are you? Have you had any problems with your epilepsy lately?”

“No. No problems at all.”

After our early breakfast, my brother asked me to show them the city. Awkwardly, I agreed to take them around my city and show them things I had just begun to see. We left Casa de Waffles, crossed the street, and then Arlen stopped.

“What’s that noise?” he asked. I shrugged, wondering why my generally keen sense of hearing failed me, and followed Arlen into a long alley between the Roller Rink and Walter’s Lanes.

“Hello?” He walked slowly into the dark. Someone moaned.

I followed him and we found a man lying behind a dumpster. His clothes were ratty and glazed with a layer of dirt. He had clearly been lying there for a long time.

“Arlen, get his legs. Help him up.” I moved behind his head and lifted it from the grimy ground.

“Are you okay, sir?” I asked. “What’s your name? Can you hear me?”

“Christophe...” he said. His lips barely moved.

“Christophe? Okay, we’re going to get you out of here. Stay with us, alright? Stay with me.”

“You... just you... who...”

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’ll get you to a hospital,” I said.

Together, we carried Christophe to the free clinic at 7:30 in the morning. My father offered to get us all coffee while Arlen and I waited for Christophe to wake up.

Four hours, 15 cups of coffee, and five doctor check-ins later, Christophe woke up on a ventilator and an IV.

“Christophe? Are you okay?”

He nodded and asked, “Who are you? Did you bring me here?”

“My name’s Sile. My brother, my dad, and I found you in an alley and rushed you here.” Arlen and my dad stepped forward and waved.

“Your brother and your dad? Are they here now?”

“Yes, they’re right here.” I grabbed Arlen’s arm and pulled him forward. “This is Arlen.”

Christophe looked from me to Arlen and gave me a strange look – similar to the look I received from Sister Marta earlier. He looked around the room one last time before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.

I looked at Arlen and shrugged. Perhaps Christophe’s recovery would not be as speedy as I hoped.

7

The day started with whiteness. My father sat next to me and held my hand. Women with crisp, white uniforms and blue gloves filed in and out of the hall. Arlen returned from the restroom and took up my other hand.

“Facilities were nice. Very clean,” he said. He looked at me and smiled, “Oh Sile. Things will be alright. Hey,” he took my face in his hands, “things will be fine.”

“Sile N’Bhroin!” A clean nurse looked through me as I stood up to claim my name. Arlen and my father came up behind me. “Follow me,” she said. I turned to receive a kiss from my father and a bear hug from my brother. Then I followed the nurse, careful not to step on her white, spotless shoes.

The nurse led me to a generic operating room and told me to sit in a black chair. I waited. 24 minutes later, Dr. Brunswick entered my room. “Hello Ms. N’Bhroin. Please lie back.” The chair extended itself out and I rested my head on the back. After a sharp prick on the top of my hand, my dream shifted. The operating room turned bright yellow and Dr. Brunswick’s gray beard turned jet black.

My family walked in my room, took one look at me, and started acting funny. My father started crying while Arlen turned toward the doctor and began shouting at him. I couldn’t hear them. I wondered why Arlen shouted at my doctor. He didn’t do anything wrong. Then I noticed my brother’s usually dirty blond hair now looked sunshine yellow and his naturally gray eyes looked bright blue to me. All the colors I had seen before the operation seemed more vivid now.

Suddenly, the colors started to fade while Arlen’s shouts and my father’s sobs grew louder.

“...Easy procedure... What will she do...” I made out some of when Arlen was saying; my father’s chokes were drowning everything else out.

As the sounds became more distinct and the colors turned slowly to black, I woke up, still hearing Arlen’s angry remarks in my brain. My eyes opened and adjusted to the light.

Immediately I wanted to call Arlen and my father. My dream had reminded me of my life before the operation. What started as a epilepsy-correctional operation, turned into a life changing alteration that lost me the two people I cared most for in the world.

But then I wondered if my wish had also worked on Arlen and my father. Perhaps the jolly man that granted my wish had not just changed me, but had taken me back to the time before the bullet pierced my father's heart or before the rope tightened around Arlen’s young neck. I picked up my phone and dialed the number I hadn’t used in almost 50 years.

It rang.

“Hello?”

“Arlen?”

“Sile? Is that you?!”

I smiled and closed my eyes, allowing myself to remember the days before darkness consumed me and my poor family.

6

The day started with a heavy yawn and my eyes cracking open. I saw Felix sit up, stretch, and curl back around my legs. His white fur coated my navy quilt, making it look almost naturally cream-colored. Dusky moonlight seeped into every crevice of my apartment, illuminating the dust and abandoned webs that were no longer useful for even the sloppiest of spiders.

I rubbed my eyes and reopened them. The room now looked like a big blur of 2D browns and grays. Throwing my disgustingly ivory blanket off of my legs, I walked to my door to check the number. 783. I was in the right room. Somehow I didn’t recognize it. Was this really what I had been living in for 53 years? I touched the chipped, rusting 7-8-3 and noticed my hands. The wrinkles, the veins, the discoloration was gone. My hands had been wiped clean of age. I ran to my bathroom and saw my 20 year-old-self looking through the reflective glass of my mirror. My young hands brushed the smooth skin over my cheeks. Confused, I suddenly remembered my run-in with the strange, jolly man in the woods. And the wish he promised to grant. My deepest desire.

Suddenly my transformation made sense. He had given me the one thing I desperately wanted and dreamed about for years.

Leaving the bathroom to get dressed, I saw the bottle of depression pills I have been taking for the past who-knows-how-many years. Slowly lifted the bottle from my desk, I dropped it in a trashbin next to my bed.

Laughing, I grabbed my jacket and left my unfamiliar sanctuary. Starting to count my steps as usual, I realized that for once I didn’t have to. Making a list in my head of things and people I wanted to see (my recent dancing partner made the top of the list), I tripped down the last few steps of the Castle Apartments and exited the building.

What I found outside was slightly disappointing. The world’s colors failed to shine in the bright moonlight, so all I saw were whites and dull grays. Turning right, I strolled down Benson Street. I kept forgetting not to count my steps. All I could think about was numbers and how undreamlike this place seemed. I took another right and my feet lead me to the Roller Rink, a place I had never before visited. I walked into the Rink and climbed the stairs in the back. Finally reaching the roof, I walked over to the side and peered out over my little city. A high, short yelp broke my silence. In the alley between Walter’s Lanes and the Rink there was a struggle. Minutes later, someone in a dark jacket ran out of the alley, leaving a crumpled figure lying in the dark. Running out off the roof, and jumping down the stairs, I found the owner of the Roller Rink and told him what happened. Then I left the Rink and rushed home.

At home, I immediately ran to the trashbin containing my pills from this morning. Stealing the pill bottle from the bottom of the bin, I popped the top off and yanked out two blue pills.

Curling up in my covers with Felix below my feet, I shut my eyes, for once welcoming the familiarity of the darkness.