Shawn's POV
I am a assistant at a rehab center my parents own. Simply because it makes money and I guess it looks cool. It's a resort. On the coast of California in the middle of almost no where. It is beautiful. Palm trees and the ocean smell everywhere. I sat in a chair outside when one of the workers called for me.
"Shawn sweetie can you go bring some trays of food to patients we are short on staff right now," A sweet lady by the name of Jenny said. She was almost 70 but she never stopped working. I smiled and stood.
"Of course Jenny," I walked inside past the guards who nodded as they do for everyone. I walked down the hall to the kitchen. Where one of the cooks had trays all over the counter. I grabbed one and looked at the note.
Room 238
I have never been there before. I shrugged and went to the elevator. I pressed the buttons and went up. I tapped my foot to the calm music. Then I got out and walked down the hall until I found the room.
“Y/N Y/L/N
Schizophrenia”
Schizophrenia. Hmm. I put in the key pad lock and opened the door. There sat a beautiful girl sitting at the desk with a paper and pencil. There was always a desk, bed, table and a TV monitor for either security or messages to the patients
"Hello Y/N," I said. I set the tray on the table. She turned. Her eyes almost exploded like she was deer in front of headlights.
"Go away d-daddy!" She grabbed the chair. I cocked my head to the side. "I didn't mean to get a bad grade I-I promise!" She screamed. I hurried out the room. Daddy? She looked so scared. I never have even seen the girl. I decided to do some research. I want to know about this girl.
***
I sat at the computer looking up everything about Schizophrenia. If it's extreme it can cause people to see things and hear things. Maybe she mistaken my voice. Or my looks. But I wanted to see this girl again. I would see this girl again. I grabbed a hood and put it on. Then I went on my way to her room. But my moms voice stopped me.
"Where are you going son?" She asked.
"Just walking," I lied. She nodded and went to the elevator. I quickly made my way to her room and got in.
"Hi," I said. She glanced at me. This time not scared but confused.
"Do I know you?" She asked. I shook my head.
"My parents own this place and I have no friends so," I laughed. She smiled.
"Well come sit I haven't had anyone to play tic tac toe with in forever," She smirked.
37 days later
Today I snuck in an art book (she loves art) and skittles. It was her favorite candy but before she heard her step dad yelling at her for having sugar before bed so she always hears screaming when there is skittles. I just had her keep her eyes closed when she ate them and it worked. She told me her step dad is the cause of her mental disease. She started hearing and seeing stuff when he moved in. He abused her and other things. That's why she screamed at me when she saw me. I must look somewhat like him. She ended up picking out our differences and I don't have to wear a hood now. We were looking at cool painting in the book when she started to freak out.
"Shawn Shawn stop!" She pushed me away from her and crawled to the corner of her bed. I looked confused at her.
"Y/N I didn't say anything," I tried to convince her. She held her hands to her ears and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Please stop!" She cried. Wet tears soaked her cheeks. I gently held her hand.
"Y/N," I said quietly. Soon enough she calmed down and opened her eyes.
"You were never screaming were you?" I shook my head.
"It's okay," I said softly.
"I can't let you be friends with me. I'm a freak," She said like she was disgusted. At herself... I smiled.
"I don't think you're a freak,"
"I'm in a rehab center. They diagnosed me with depression. Depression. What person that has Schizophrenia and sees crazy things and heard stupid things all the time wouldn't be depressed!" She exclaimed. I stayed calm.
"Y/N its okay-"
"No it isn't Shawn! I can't let you near me I'm a monster! I could think you have a weapon or you are going to hurt me and I hurt you! I could kill you! I have heard the stories. People like me are dangerous Shawn. I don't want to hurt you," She shivered and she started to cry.
"Y/N. I don't care about that-" I went to touch her arm but she slapped it away.
"I can't let you Shawn. I can't hurt you. I have a disease. I am a disease," She spatted at me.
"I had anxiety," I said. She looked up at me. "I had panic attacks all the time. One time in 7th grade I was paired up with a girl in class I liked. I cried in the middle of class cause I thought she would not like me if I messed up our project. It was bad. I went to rehab when I was 13 and it sucked. The place was terrible. So my parents decided to make their own. So they would know I would get better. And hoped others would too. Luckily. I don't have them much anymore. But if you think a mental disorder defines who you are I am scared for you. You are not Schizophrenia. You are a artist you are smart and beautiful. You are Y/N. Not a monster. I could care less about the risks. This building could explode. The skittles we ate could've been poisoned. Everything has risks. But that's what life is about," I said. She looked me in the eyes.
"I swear that was best thing someone has ever told me," She smiled ever so lightly. But I knew it meant everything to her. "Thank you,"
"It's my pleasure,"
A/N
I kinda want to say that what Shawn said was true. A mental disorder does not define who you are and if you have one or any type of thing that is different about you, know you are amazing anyways. You can't base yourself on one thing. Just thought I would put that out there :)