“I’m not fuckin’ crazy.” Tim hissed, a slight southern accent to him as he sat hunched over the couch, head hurried into his hands as he rambled and mumbled under his breath. You chewed on your cheek nervously, you knew of Tims medical history. You knew of Tim’s schizophrenia and hallucinations. “I know.” You answered quietly, sitting down beside him and resting a friendly hand on his knee. Unknown to you, Brian shares the same ‘delusions’ as Tim, he’s just more quiet about it, stealing Tim’s schizophrenia medication to stop the delusions. Himself coming before others. If only you knew what they were seeing.

The tall man, standing well over any tall pine trees height. The dark suit with the infamous red tie. And that blank, featureless white face.

“I know you’re not crazy Tim.” You reassured once more, squeezing his knee and his hand fell onto yours and his shoulders shook with a shaky breath. “You do.” Tim answered and you glanced at Brian who was zoned out himself, subconsciously repeatedly cracking his knuckles, a small nasty habit he’s picked up on when he zones out.

“Brian.” You used your free hand to reach out and nudge the man’s shoulder, Brian instantly snapping out of his trance and he tensed, sucking in air as his head snapped to you. “Yeah?” He responded with a shaky voice, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans and clearing his throat before he repeated, “Yeah?”. You instinctively narrowed your eyes. “Help me out?” You asked, hushed, not wasting to send the already anxious and delusional Tim into an unnecessary episode. Tim only hunched over more, heaving a bit.

“Don’t you throw up on my carpet,” You quickly said, snapping to your feet and snapped your fingers at Brian for a trash can and this time he responded instantly, handing the small plastic bin over to you and you squeezed it between the hunched man’s legs. “There.” You sat down as he continued to dry heave.

It wasn’t anything new, he’d do this. Dry heave for minutes and nothing came up other than blood.