I'm just someone performing a public service.

There was a monster inside of his head, one that moved in when he was twenty-two years old, but the doctors said it had always been there. His mother had a monster too, though one that went by the name of cancer; not a mental illness, but a physical one. But that’s where the doctors said he got it from, was his mother, her schizoaffective traits. 

And everyone told him, don’t let it in, don’t let it control you, you’re vulnerable, don’t let it. They told him its name, so he could paint it on his wrists, on his forehead, along the curves of his hears. Paranoid schizophrenia. They said it noticed loud things — like capital letters, or crying children, or hatred, or fear. It noticed caffeine, and fatty foods, and was easily triggered when he went off his meds.

He’d been off his meds for months now, after his stint with Wesley Sumpter and John Kennedy and talking to the walls for an entire weekend. He felt better when he was off of them; he felt stronger, more aware of his surroundings. But it also meant that the voices were back; and they weren’t like Natalie this time, they weren’t helpful or kind. 

"What would happen," the voice said, "if you told Kate you were hallucinating again? What if you told her you were showing symptoms? Do you really think she’d stick around?"

Daniel was on his sofa. He put his hands over his ears and stood up, pacing the floor. But blocking out the outside noise did nothing to stop the voices when they were in his own head. “Kate’s my friend. She understands my diagnosis, she’s—”

"She understands in theory, sure. But remember how freaked out she was when you had to admit yourself to the hospital? She doesn’t understand it in practice. She’s afraid of you, Daniel."

"No, no, she’s— no. You’re wrong." Where was Lewicki? Wasn’t he supposed to be home by now, supposed to be here, telling him this man wasn’t real? "I haven’t hurt anyone, I’m not— I’m not capable of hurting anyone."

The hallucination merely smirked. “But you’ve thought about it, haven’t you? You know they’re all out to get you. Probert especially, he doesn’t see you as anything but a basket case. He’s set out to bring you down. To take Kate away from you. To convince her that you’re as crazy as they all say. And they do all say so, don’t they? At school, they see you talking to yourself, and they mock you behind your back, they’re ashamed to have you on their campus.”

Daniel, in a fit of fear and anger, grabbed up the nearest object — a glass cup — and he threw it full force at the hallucination. Naturally, it shattered against the wall with a loud crash. “Leave me alone!” he screamed, reaching up to hit at his own head, pull at his own hair. “You’re not even real, you’re not even real—”

It was almost ironic that she assumed Daniel wasn't hiding his anymore.

                   'No more secrets.'

But then again, how could she have known? No one else managed to look past her facade, and his was more practiced, he had years behind it. She shouldn't have been surprised when she heard his voice, broken, coming from the house. Kate immediately looked for Lewicki's car parked in front, nearly scrambling for the front door when she realized it was nowhere to be found and Daniel was still talking.

...But it was just a singular voice, just one, and it was his. There was a pang of panic in her chest as she quickly opened the door, just as he tossed the cup. The crash made her jump, the sound of his anguished cries sending her forward to calm him. 

                   'Let's make a deal, your symptoms come back, you tell me.'