Papercuts (Merome)

Chapter 1

I open my eyes with a loud and startled cry. I look to see my mother, shaking my shoulders. She looks at me with a sympathetic look as I realise where I am. I'm on my bed, curled up in a little ball, having another episode. Tears fall down my face again and sobs freely leave my throat as I think back to what happened. Mum crawls over to me and holds me tight while I let it all out. I will never get used to these. I've had them before, maybe once every two months. They scare me. A lot.

"I care about you Mitch. Those voices know nothing, especially when it comes to my love for you. You are worth it. You will get better one day. You may not see it now, but you have a bright future ahead of you. The past will become what it is." She comforts once I start to calm down. I nod against her chest as I take deep breathes. It's amazing how a mothers touch can do so much to their child. I feel safe within her embrace, and I love her for it.

After a few minutes she pulls away and looks at me and then sighs.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," she whispers with a small smile. I nod and follow her into my bathroom. I sit down on the edge of the bath tub as she wets a cloth and comes back over to me. She presses the cloth to the area around my ears causing me to wince. This has become a ritual for me. Mum told me that when I have an episode, I claw at my ears, trying to make the voices stop, resulting for there to be cuts all over and around my ears. I don't even realise I'm doing it though. I'm in too much mental pain to even consider what my physical body is going through.

Coward, can't even handle a little bit of pain.

I whimper a little but mum just takes it as her hurting me, not my own thoughts. Mum does my other side as well. Once we are done in there we go into the kitchen. I grab a glass and fill it up with water. I down the entire glass in three gulps. I take a shaky breath. Mum hands me something. I look to see my medication. I fill the glass up again and down the pills.

I should probably introduce myself.

My name is Mitchell Hughes and I am schizophrenic.

Yep. I've had it for a couple years now, well, known about it. It's been there for a long time, sitting doormat, waiting and brewing up to become something out of my control. It did. But it started to get worse so mum took me to the doctors and they diagnosed me with Schizoaffective disorder. That means I have symptoms of both schizophrenia and a major mood disorder, in my case, Bipolar. Practically, my schizophrenia can make me happy or sad. It controls my life basically. It's not very fun I can tell you that now. Though, There are highs with bipolar.  I live for those highs. Where you are so happy, excited and hopeful all at once. It's a euphoric feeling and they can last for a while. It's nice to feel happy.

But then come the lows, the very very big lows. The ones where you try to kill yourself. I remember once I was having one of my episodes and I had hit rock bottom. I had never felt so depressed before. I took a bunch of my meds and slit my wrists. It didn't work though, since I was half out of it, I didn't cut deep enough. Mum found me and called the ambulance. After that I was put on suicide watch for 72 hours. I think that is stupid. I mean, what happens after those hours? Nobody cares again? It sounds like it.

You can't even cut yourself properly, pussy.

Oh? And these voices? doNT GET ME STARTED ON THESE VOICES! Fucking assholes. I wish they would leave. But they are sometimes kind to me. They give me advice on what to do in a tough situation. Though, it is annoying when they all talk at once. I get migraines from it. But hey, to have friends in your head, a migraine is nothing. They are the only friends I have.

"Honey?" I hear my mum say. I look to her. She looks worried. My mother is a beautiful women, long brown hair, thin figure, blue eyes, soft soul, The works.

"Are you alright? Your spacing out."

That is a good question. Why would you even ask that? Of course I'm not alright.

But I just nod my head and make my way back to my room upstairs. Connor, Marley and Kyleigh  all stand there in the hall with concerned looks. I walk straight past, not even bothering to acknowledge their existence. I am too tired to even be bothered right now. I walk into my large room and slam the door shut, locking it. Mum has the key to the door but she only used it if I'm having an episode. She respects my privacy and so do my siblings. I have a big room with my own bathroom and walk in wardrobe. We are very wealthy since my dad is the CEO at a book publishing place which I can't remember the name of. I don't get to see my dad that much, I can't remember when I last saw him. I don't remember much that happens these days. I tend to forget things quite easily. Except some things that will stay in my mind forever, they will never leave.

I sigh and make my way to my desk. I plop down onto my chair and turn on my laptop. I grab my tablet and plug it in. I start drawing. Drawing is nice. Though, when I draw, I tend to think, a lot. I contemplate what I am doing with my life mainly. You can really see my bipolar in my art over the hours when I allow myself to think. I start drawing what I think the voices in my head look like. I give a couple very sinister and evil looks, but I give one a really funny poker face, one has a duck face, one pulls a fabulous pose while smirking evilly. I can't help it. I start laughing really loudly. Oh my god, what the fuck did I just draw? I grasp my stomach and try to calm myself down. But I can't.

Shut up you piece of shit.

But he drew us art! I bet your the one with the duck face!

Yeah? And I bet your the sassy fag one.

You gay fag, your so hopeless, you can't even escape these chains? Awe, that's too bad.

How about you both shut up and let Mitch do what he wants? Go back to sleep, torment him when we wake up, I need my sleep.

The laughter instantly leaves as soon as they start talking. I feel really sad now. Whenever they talk they make me feel like shit. Except for a couple of them, they seem nice. It's strange. I don't understand them. It's like they are the bipolar ones.

"Just ignore them Mitch, you'll be alright." I hear something say. I look up to see a light brown kitten sitting on my drawing tablet with a smile. I frown in confusion. How long has this thing been here for? It flicks it's tail. Did this thing talk? I reach out and start petting it's head. It purrs in satisfaction. I pull away and stare at it. I rub my eyes to see if this is actually real. When I open them again, it's no longer there. What? Can cats teleport and talk? That's new.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. I better go to sleep. My pills are starting to kick in and I've got to go to hell tomorrow. I stand up and walk over to my bed, not before turning off my light. I take off my pants and shirt, pulling down the blankets. I get under the covers, cocooning myself in warmth

Next thing I know, I'm out like a light.

---

I have no plot planned other then a few ideas

I love writing stories when I have no fucking idea what I am doing.

Peace out