Olivia's Stories

Schizophrenia

tw: schizophrenia, mention of suicide

I stood in front of the overwhelmingly tall house, a white sign planted in front chipping paint from how old it was. Hansen-Rhodes Home for the Clinically Insane it read. I had inherited it from my father after he passed from Pneumonia last fall, I never had gotten along with my father but seeing the old man like that made me feel somewhat bad for him. The house was passed down through generations which I found quite strange, most people got something normal like a ring or necklace in remembrance of a lost loved one. I got a loony bin. It wasn’t even interesting either, the exterior was painted a pale blue with white borders surrounding the windows. The double doors leading inside the building were a flashy yellow as if the burst of color made it look any more inviting. I sighed deciding it was time to shake off the heavyweight of my shoulders and walked inside. The inside of the building was quite similar to the outside but seemingly very different. It was quite big, the whole place lined with metal so that every step I took seemed to send off a never-ending echo. No one was here, which was strange because my father had said that the place was always buzzing with excitement whether it be good or bad, there was always something going on. I hummed to myself and decided to explore the house a little more, maybe there were people somewhere else in the house that I just couldn’t see. 
Dragging my feet down the hall as I ran my right hand along the wall I couldn’t help but feel sad as I thought of my mother, she was the whole reason my grandfather had opened up the establishment. I wondered if she was still here somewhere or if she had passed long ago and no one had bothered to tell me. The thought of that angered me I was never close with my mom but she still meant a lot to me. She suffered from a severe case of Schizophrenia and my grandfather thought this would be the best way to keep her safe which I never understood. I never understood how keeping people with such wild minds shut-in would help their cause, but I was no professional. My dad had told me of a hanging that occurred here by a young man named Levi that was severely depressed and even more so when his parents sent him here. “It was horrible,” My father explained, “I don’t even know how he got up there, but his body was just swinging from the top beam of the ceiling, smack dab in the middle of the stairwell. I watched everyone gather around and just stare at him, not a care in the world that one of their own had so easily offed himself. He explained it in such a way that angered me if the employees were doing their jobs that never would have happened, and what did he mean “one of their own” the members of the home were people too, they just looked at things a little differently. It then made me think, is that why no one was here? Had they committed mass suicide or something? I shuddered at the thought, “No, Audrey that’s silly.” I whispered to myself and finally found the stairs leading to upwards. I heard chatter and smiled to myself, I didn’t want to be in here alone. 
The stairs were wood and rusted despite the rest of the house being full aluminum. They creaked and groaned as I slowly walked up to them, scared I would fall through if I ran up. The door opened and an older woman looked out she caught sight of me her eyes widen and she slams the door hurriedly in my face, weird. “Hello?” I called out but got no response as I was expecting. “I’m Audrey, Will’s granddaughter?” I tried. 
“I know who you are dear, and that is why I don’t like you, you’re probably just as impolite as that old man was,” she huffed out. 
I scoffed, “you don’t even know me, I’m nothing like him or my father.” the woman let out a dry chuckle. 
Then she said something I didn’t think any other human would have the audacity to say, “Ah, so you must be like your mother?” it took all the strength I had to not reach over the round wooden table that was sat smack dab in the middle of the floor and beat her to a bloody pulp, I was taught to respect my elders. Though some of them definitely didn’t deserve it. Now that she wasn’t talking it was much easier to see her features, her hair was grey with a few strips of white running through it and it looked surprisingly thick, she had dark green eyes, almost reminding me of an actual green tigers eye stone. Short nails complimented long delicate fingers that somehow didn’t have as many wrinkles as I thought they would’ve, her face wasn’t all that wrinkly either. I guessed she was in her late 60s. I rolled my eyes at her and stood up from the chair I’d unconsciously sat myself down on while I studied her. “Amelia Jensen!” She called out and laughed my puzzled expression, “my name, it’s Amelia Jensen, but you’ll call me Mrs. I’m an old-fashioned kind of woman.” I nodded curtly and ran down the stairs forgetting all about my fear of them breaking, luckily they didn’t. I had to get out of that room, something about it freaked me out. I was confused, if Mrs. Jensen had been the only one up there then why had I heard so many voices? Maybe there were other rooms like that around the house? I sighed and continued to walk around having no luck in finding anyone.
It’s been three hours since I started exploring and I’m ready to go home, I yell a quick “Bye!” to that Mrs. Jensen lady not expecting a reply back. I walk down the stairs and out of the doors that lead into the home, walking hurriedly to my car it was a slate 1946 Chrysler Continental Coupe and it was my pride and joy. I dug my key out of my pocket and realized that it wasn’t there, at least not that I could feel. I’d learned to pick a lock pretty early in life but that was on things like doors, not key slots, I figured I might as well give it a try, I wanted to leave as soon as possible this place gave me the creeps. I used all my skills but no matter what I tried it didn’t work, I sighed and walked back into the building. When I opened the door there were people everywhere, my eyes widened in surprise. Where were all these people before? Had they been there the whole time? 
I felt someone tap me on the shoulder and I jumped craning my neck to see Mrs. Jensen, “Are you okay dear?” she asked and I shook my head.
“Where did all these people come from?” I asked and she looked at me with a raised brow confusion settling on her face.
“What do you mean? There’s no one here.”
“Yes, there is, I see people everywhere!” I yelled out in frustration.
“Before, when I said that thing about your mother, I was just trying to get a rise out of you but you’re seeing things, she saw things. Maybe you’re more like her than you think,” Mrs. Jensen sighed and rubbed her temples “she saw things differently than others, some would call them hallucinations,” she sighed. 
“I’m not hallucinating and I don’t believe you, you don’t have any proof!” I shouted and walked away quickly with no destination in mind.
That night I finally found somewhere to rest, it was an old inmate's bedroom, which kind of gave me the creeps but it was better than nothing. I stared up at the ceiling, it was a greyish-white color covered with specks of green and purple, yet another thing they thought a pop of color would bring a sense of happiness to, and surprisingly it did. 
My eyes slowly fluttered shut but not before hearing someone softly whisper my name, “Audrey?” the voice whispered, I ignored it wanting to just sleep, “Audrey!” the person said louder, yet still managed to keep their voice a whispery tone.
“Mrs. Jensen go away, I’m trying to sleep!” I told the voice, who only chuckled and I quickly realized that it was a man. Now fully awake I was scared I was fine with my other housemate but I hadn’t known there was a man there. Mrs. Jensen would’ve told me, wouldn’t she? Unless she didn’t know either, the thought freaked me out even more and I tried to remain calm and shut my eyes again tightly trying to go back to sleep but I could still feel the man’s presence. Finally, I whipped around and got a slight glance at him, “What do you want?” I asked before I realized who he was. “Dad?”
“Hey, Audrey I missed you, your mom misses you too she said she wishes you would’ve visited her more often before she died.” This man, that was supposedly father was strange, he talked with politeness in his voice and acted as though he was happy to see me. My father never would’ve done that in real life, he was rough and very cold-hearted. 
I raised an eyebrow at him, “First of all my dad is dead, secondly, he would’ve never been so kind to me,” the man laughed at me again and scoffed as though he thought I was stupid.
“Of course I’m your father! How can you disrespect me like that!” He screamed at me.
“NO!” I yelled and ran back downstairs, through the cafeteria and back up the other set of stairs, and banged on Mrs. Jensen’s door, I got no answer. I sunk to my knees and cried. That was not my father in that room. Eventually, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up to see who it is, “Mom? I couldn’t believe it. “Where’s Mrs. Jensen?”
“Who?” My mother questioned, looking very confused.
I raised an eyebrow at her, “Mrs. Jensen? Older lady in her 60s or so?” she still looked lost, I groaned.
“Audrey there’s nobody here.” She said and the hand disappeared from my shoulder I looked around and saw that she was right, I was all alone. Maybe this is why my father had wanted me to inherit the asylum so badly, he knew there was something wrong with me. I held my face in my hands but I had no tears left so I just shrank myself down to a ball and slid to the cold aluminum floor feeling sorry for myself.
“That Mrs. Jensen lady was right, I guess it does run in the family, schizophrenia.”