Oh, Catastrophe

Angelo put a palm against the cool window, enjoying the chill of it while the sun blazed outside. It’s been 2 weeks, a long peaceful 2 weeks in the ward. Prescott was in charge of his case, even while here. The Doctor was also very wary of who Angelo spoke to and when. He diagnosed Ang with an early stage of Multiple Personality Disorder, not quite yet dominating his life but he showed signs of this struggle, gave the voice an appearance,
An Identity.
They immediately were testing out different medications, settling on the ones that didn't upset Ang's stomach or cause him to have random spasms. Twice he's ended up in a wheelchair, one too many times where he's cried himself to sleep.. Reminded of how weak he truly was. He almost began to think the voice was right and it was the doctors that was wrong. Until a new medication had him feeling light and soon the voice suddenly fell silent. A mute. As if it was never there. For the longest time he's waited for it to come back, torture him, make him want to die. But it never did.

That was only a few days ago, now everyday was the same routine.. Well at least it was starting to be. When Angelo was first admitted under the watchful eye of Prescott, he had horrid nightmares, constantly waking him up screaming and clawing. Nurses constantly having to sedate him despite his pleas for them to just let him stay awake. The voice teased him, drove him to the brink and back. He’d wake up trembling, wait on line for medication while hugging himself, take his medication, get checked to see if he swallowed, then shuffled back to his room where he cried until he’d have to endure another nightmare. Prescott made appearances to talk to him but many days went where he was silent or too delirious to speak. Eventually, the voice made it's grand exit. He couldn't remember what was said.. Something along the lines of an Angel bringing something.. and then the silence.

He didn’t want to think about that.. Now now, not ever. His parents had both flown in and visited several times before going back home teary eyed and weary of what was to become of their son. Today, he’ll get to see the love of his life: Kelly. He felt like he was on their first date all over again: sweaty palms, shaking, nervous. What would he say? Let alone how would she react to him? After all that's happened.

“Angelo Parente please come to the front desk.”
He jumped up and did as he was told, meeting with an older, dark, plump women with tight curls against her head, “H-Hey C-Cindy.” Stuttering, an effect of his medication.
She smiled at him, “Angelo, nervous?”
He nodded like a small child.
“Awh, don’t worry about it baby. You’re doing great. Heck, you’ll be out of here before you know it and leave poor old me behind.” Cindy was in charge of his medications and kept track of where he was and what he was doing. When they first met, Angelo wasn't himself. The voice won over and was causing havoc in his room, turning over the bed, clogging toilets, ripping wires, inflicting pain on Ang's body, even put a nurse in a deadly headlock. Yet she wasn't scared. When he was showing improvement she provided him with idol chats and even some holy advice which he didn’t really mind with how careful she was with it. She knew his background, his whole case, and gave him a loving motherly figure for the mother he’s been lacking every since he moved to California. She needed to, it was her job.

He let out a small laugh, “I could never leave you behind Cind.” He shuffled his feet, the anxiety an affect of mental fear.
“One day. For the better.” She patted his shoulder, “Now come on, she’s waiting in the visiting room.”

Ang’s bare feet padded behind Cindy’s down the long halls and through pass activated doors without handles. He was denied a lot of things because of his “high risk of self-harming.” Not even 3 days ago he was allowed pants, underwear, and a shirt instead of the normal gown. It was a luxury he enjoyed more with the fact that the voice wasn’t... wasn’t bothering him.
His heart was pounding as Cindy helped the shaking Ang down into his seat, “It’s gonna be fine baby, just breathe.”
He smiled smally at her, “Thanks.”

With the buzzing of a door, Kelly came into view. One look at Angelo’s pale yet glowing complexion, sunken but healing eyes, and slim frame brought her to tears. She rushed to him, hugging him tightly, “Oh my Angelo... my sweet Ang. What’s happen to you?” She clutched his hair and breathed in his scent. Her bruises were long gone and she has already coped with forgiveness with some talks from Dr. Prescott. She still had so much to learn.
Cindy smiled, “Young love. Reminds me of my good ol days.” She let out a hardy laugh, “The boy’s doing fine here. I’ll be happy to inform the little issue of his hasn’t come to bother him, no it hasn’t.”
Ang pulled away, “I’m getting better now.” His voice was dry and raspy, tears sprung in his eyes as he held her for the first time in a long time.
Kelly nodded, pushing his hair away from his face, “Yes you are.”

For the allowed hour and a half, they chatted and for that moment Angelo was at his happiest. He laughed and smiled and was even allowed to share a kiss or two. Before they parted Kelly held his hand in hers, “Hey..”
He looked up from their hands and smiled, “Yeah?”
She grinned, “I talked to Prescott and he says you’re doing well. In 2 days I’ll be back to pick you up... There's no way I'm gonna let them keep you in here when you'll be fine on your own."
His heart was beating erratically, “O-Okay.” He smiled at her.
“See you.” She kissed him one last time before being escorted out.

In truth, he was happy. But there was a horror deep inside Angelo Parente. The horror that these walls were a safe haven, a place that suffocated the voice and denied it any access to his emotions and personal thoughts. Maybe it was the medication... But what would happen if he walked out these doors and it came back to haunt him? Destroy him? Finish him off.
“Ang?”
“Huh?” He jumped and looked at Cindy.
She gave him a look.
“Sorry! I was, ya know, afterglow.” He smiled.
She smacked him lightly, “Child! Don’t you scare me like that! What's wrong with you? Do you WANT to give me a heart attack?” She playfully sighed, “Lord have mercy.”
This caused him to laugh, “You never fail me Cindy.”
She put a hand on the small of his back as she escorted him back to the rooms where he resumed sitting by the window.

He was scared. Scared of himself and what else he could possibly be capable of.
I killed her. He thought to himself, I fed her those drugs and I gave her that drink. I.. I’ve killed two people now. Two. I can’t even be sorry. He played with the hem of his pants, twisting it until it squeezed around his ankle. The waitress was a secret he'd have to take to the grave, Two’s too many... He’d wipe a stray tear, I... I can’t go back but. What if.
What if.
What if I... Ang sighed, he needed to stay confident. His medication was working and he needs to build the mental strength. Makes sense right? In order to heal you need to be strong? Confident. But what if he..
He can’t.
It’s the medication right? Keeping him away?
Yeah, it has to be. What else can it be? Maybe.. Maybe I’m alright.