i.

There never was much of a reason Raiden didn't like Everton, he just didn't like him. Raiden didn't hate him though, no, hate's a strong word, he just didn't like him. He'd talk a little too much, and a little too fast, like some bad rap song on repeat, his voice full of nonsense, and he was crazy too, even if he didn't admit it.

"The doctors say I have mania. They keep giving me mood stabilizers and shit. I think it's a bunch of bullshit though, I'm fine. I'm fine."

But Everton wasn't fine, because if he was he wouldn't be here. Disclosed to society, in a little white prison cell where the beds felt like hard coal and concrete, brushing up against your back, the scars like empty reminders, hey kid, society doesn't need you, you should be dead, d-e-a-d, that spells dead. Raiden kept telling him that but Everton never listened, and soon, he just let Everton talk, and talk, and talk (because that's what mania's do. They talk alot. They talk alot and they have racing thoughts and they don't sleep much, 3 hours a night at most--that's what Everton said, and sometimes they even have delusions, like a schizophrenic.)

"They say I'm getting worse, that they'll have to up my medicine soon. I was sitting in the courtyard yesterday with one of the nurses and I saw a dragon. It was so scary. I screamed. I mean fuck man, it talked and said it was going to eat me. Then I ran, off course. The nurse caught me though, she's strong. She said it was all just in my brain, I think she needs glasses, 'cause it's not all in my fucking brain."

Raiden just smiled, his lips flipped open to reveal small crooked teeth. "Sure, just tell yourself whatever you want. Sometimes we just need lies to feel safe, and alive. Don't worry I been there." Raiden can see diamond auras dancing around Everton, like small maggots crawling through his skin, and his head hurts, and he wants to yell, but he doesn't. It's all in your head, your brains just messed-up son. The doctors will take better care of you, I promise.

"Shut up, I'm not lying. And I'm not crazy. How many times do I have to say that? Man, what are you here for anyway?"

Raiden pushes the bedsheets with his legs down to the slick floor (cover it with gasoline and watch it burn) his hands wrapped around his knees, and he smiles again, the emotions loosely hanging around him by a cord. "I'm a catatonia schizophrenia, and a pyromaniac, and I have anorexia nervosa, apparently, and a pyromaniac, and—oh, wait, I already said that." It feels like there are wires attached to Raiden's brain, and right now someone's cutting them loose, letting them dance around freely, and Raiden can't think clearly anymore, the monster inside him taking over again. Blood, rainbows, Adam and Eve (I think the garden's burning. S-n-a-k-e, that spells evil.) These walls are white, like a genocide of a million angels, their innocence smeared. Oh god, oh god brain, stop, stop.

The scream coils in Everton's throat, and he brings his brittle fingernails up to his head, pushing his skull between his knees, his bones and joints creaking. Raiden looks at him with empty eyes, lips twisted. "Oh man, you are fucked. I can see it in your swollen eyes. No wonder you're here. Oh well, that's okay, we can still be friends. You're kinda cute Raiden, I like you. Not in the gay way though, 'cause I'm not gay, really, we can be friends, yeah. You're kinda going bald you know that, well not bald but your hair's really thin, and it's kinda greasy. My mom said that anore—"

Breathing heavily, Raiden looks at Everton, his badly burned arm (how did your cousin feel—when you set fire to his dolls?) trembling. "You talk to much, and your mouth stinks of lithium, and tangerines. Stop talking, please. You're annoying me and the nurses are coming."


an. this really makes no sense at all, and yeah it badly sucks. i don't really know what i was trying to do (but we know i failed.) i just sorta like it though, even though it's poorly planned out and shit, be dissapointed with me, it's okay. sorry if i displayed any of the disorders wrong, i pretty much know shit about them. the typos, i'm sorry about them too.