Push.

3. I Don't Know if I've Ever Been Really Loved by a Hand That's Touched Me

3. I Don't Know if I've Ever Been Really Loved by a Hand That's Touched Me

He sat with the ice pack against his forehead, feeling stupid.

The stupidity was mixed with a slew of other emotions that churned within his stomach like a poisonous cocktail.

Anger, hopelessness, fear. Paralyzing fear...

"Get rid of him or I will."

What the hell did that mean?

"If Scott Hoying stays, you won't get rid of me. I'll drive you insane. I'll hurt him, and you'll have to watch every second of it. I swear to God, Mitch, don't underestimate me."

He couldn't hurt him. There was no way. He wasn't real, for God's sake.

Mitch's forehead throbbed painfully: a reminder of the damage that he could indeed cause.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Kirstin asked, sitting down beside him. She had given him space, initially, but he wished that she had given him more of it.

"I hallucinated. It was Dr. Chastain."

Kirstin waited patiently for him to continue, and he wracked his brain trying to come up with more of a lie.

"She said that I was getting worse. She said that there was no hope for me. She said I was a burden on you and on my family. I couldn't shut her up. I guess I got out of control and started banging my head..."

Kirstin's eyes welled with sympathetic tears, and Mitch knew that he had succeeded.

"Did you skip a dose again?"

Mitch nodded. "I overslept this morning. I guess I left for class without taking my pill."

He was actually alarmed with how easily the second lie left his lips.

"Can we... keep this between you and me?" he asked after a moment.

Kirstin looked unsure. "Under one condition."

"Okay."

"Start taking your damn pills, Mitch. Consistently."

Mitch nodded, satisfied with the way this had gone.

Now, he just had to figure out how to keep seeing Scott Hoying without Fake Scott rearing his ugly head again.

Ugly certainly wasn't the correct term, Mitch realized. Toxic?

"How are we going to hide it, though? That's quite the bump you have there."

Mitch reached up to rub the sore spot. He was thankful that he hadn't actually split it open the way that Fake Scott's had. He fluffed the fringe of his hair a bit, until it covered the angry-looking bump.

"Good?"

Kirstin nodded. "You might be able to get away with it."

He sure hoped so.

Rehearsals for the Spring Invitational were in full swing, and it was a nice distraction. The rehearsals took up a majority of the group's time, and Mitch found himself actually happy that Scott wasn't a member of the group.

Scott was safe if he just stayed away.

Mitch allowed his mind to wander to the night when he kissed him for the first time, how he had gripped the blond hair until Scott's eyes teared.

Could he do worse?

He really didn't want to find out.

They returned to Rozzi and Scott's apartment after one particularly long rehearsal. Rozzi, Mitch, and Kirstin had been given homework by an irate Chet that night, to perfect their new song by the next day. Mitch cursed Kevin for getting out of it, somehow.