Falling for a Psycho

Chapter Twenty

Twenty: Donovan’s P.O.V

“Donovan Watson,” Dr. Morgan says, poking her head into the Biology classroom, “Can I have a word with you?”

I stand up, leaving my books, and walking to Dr. Morgan. I walk with her down the hall, and she looks at me. It’s silent for a moment, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor the only sound.

“I see you have developed a relationship with Marilyn Bender. The doctors have noticed it, and they want to try something,” Dr. Morgan says. I look at her.

“What do they want to try?” I ask, my voice teeming with curiosity.

“They want to see how she behaves around you. You will be put in a different cell, that’s still a padded cell, but has a little more room. Marilyn will be out of the straitjacket and restraints. You will be allowed out of the cell, but she won’t,” Dr. Morgan says. I nod.

“Okay,” I say. I do love Marilyn, and I wouldn’t mind being in the same room. Hopefully, the guys aren’t right. Hopefully, she isn’t plotting to kill me. I doubt it, but I really don’t know. I think I trust her.

I go back to class, and I don’t want to tell the other guys about how I’ll be with Marilyn.

However, they ask.

“What did Dr. Morgan want?” Everett asks, at lunch. I am playing with the peas in one of the small sections. I don’t really want to eat them.

“Nothing,” I deny. I try not to tell them, but then it just slips out.

“You get to be in the same room with mental Marilyn?! Do you know what you can do now?” Toby says.

“If it’s sex, I’ll kill you,” I say. I know that if Toby is saying it, it has something to do with sex. He has a very sexual mind and all he wants to do is screw the girl I love.

“But you love her, and you can. If she doesn’t castrate you with a piece of paper first,” Everett says. I shove him so he almost falls off the bench, and he laughs.

“She won’t do that,” I say. At least, I hope she won’t. I trust her.

“Is she your girlfriend? Is mental Marilyn your girlfriend?” Chris asks. I do have to think about that. Maybe she is. I’ve kissed her, and I love her, so maybe.

“I don’t know,” I say. I take my tray to the trash, and walk out of the cafeteria, down the hall, to my room. I take a shower for no particular reason, and when I get out and get dressed, Dr. Morgan is waiting in my door way. She walks me down the hall, and up a flight of stairs to the second level.

We walk further down the hall, to a padded cell, and I look inside, Marilyn is already sitting there, without the straitjacket. She’s actually walking around. When I’m let in there, she runs over and hugs me.

“I can move my arms now!” She says, seemingly happy for the first time in a while. I hug her back, and she smiles.

“I’m so happy right now. I can actually move,” Marilyn says. It’s weird seeing her like this. I mean, I’m used to seeing the bitchy, mean, psychopathic Marilyn, but I’m seeing the happy, excited, hyper side. She’s not drugged up or anything. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been sedated or anything for a couple of days. It’s good for her. I’m sure those drugs have had some sort of affect on her. I mean, she was sedated at least once a day. I know she didn’t like it.

Marilyn sits down on the floor, and I sit down next to her.

“I’m so glad I can move my arms again. I don’t know how long it’s been since I haven’t had some sort of restraint on them. They look so thin, though. I’ve lost all muscle definition in them,” Marilyn says, looking at her arms. They’re thin, that’s for sure. Of course she wouldn’t have any muscle on them, because she’s been restrained for so long.

“And I can finally scratch my scalp. It’s torture when you can’t scratch your itches. Believe me,” Marilyn tells me. I laugh, and smile.

“Are you scared that I’m going to hurt you?” Marilyn asks, looking up at me. “I won’t. I promise. I’m trying to get past that.”

“I know,” I say.

“I’m still going to be a psychopath, no matter what. I can control certain aspects. I can keep the homicidal thoughts to a limit, and I can pretend to be in love. I can’t actually be in love, but I can fake it, and that’s the best I can do. I really want to love you, Donovan. I just can’t. I can control my schizophrenia to a degree,” Marilyn says.

I know how you feel. I have schizophrenia too. And RBD, which causes me to kick, hit, punch, grab and scratch in my sleep. It hasn’t been acting up recently, but it usually does. I would wake up and my mom or dad would have bruises because I hurt them when they tried to wake me up,” I say. “Mental illnesses aren’t strange to me. Both of my parents have mental illnesses. They actually met in a mental hospital. My mom was severely suicidal and depressed and has ADHD and bipolar disorder. My dad has schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and necrophilia. So, mental illness is common in my house.”

“You’re lucky. My family absolutely hates me. My grandma told me, to my face, that I was a ‘disgrace and an evil little girl’. It did hurt. I mean, I know that I am very messed up, but I can’t really help it, you know? I wish I could. I’m going to be a psychopath for the rest of my life. I’m going to be having episodes where I do get homicidal, and you have to be willing to deal with that, Donovan. I’m too insane for you, Donovan. I know it,” Marilyn says. I look at her, and lift her chin, then kiss her.

“You are not too insane for me. I can handle it,” I tell her. She smiles, and moves closer to me.

Actually, I’m not sure if she is too insane for me. I mean, she is very insane, but I hope I can handle it. My parents had to lock up all the knives in the house so my dad or I couldn’t get to them.

Yes, my dad does have homicidal episodes. It’s from the schizophrenia. He usually keeps it under control, but he’s gone after my mom before. She’s gotten used to it. I guess that’s what you get when you’re married to a schizophrenic.

I’ve also gone after my mom before, because the voice told me to. It never tells me to go after my dad, probably because he’s a schizophrenic, and if mom was gone, chaos would ensue. I keep it under control. I just ignore the voice. I have heard the voice at least once a day, but I just pay no mind to what it says, and keep going on with my day.

If I ever married Marilyn, I could handle it. I could handle her. I have to ask myself one question.

Would I want to marry a psychopath?