My mind races with anticipation for what the demons will say next. My foot taps rapidly on the floor, and my eyes blur out the space in front of me. I can hear my heart pounding in my chest, wondering if the people in China can hear it too. China is deadly. Deadly as a frog. Diverse like a zebra. Zebras eat grass. I walk on grass. The demons eat me.

    Sit! I scream to them, but they don’t listen, only pound their fists harder on the membrane of my skull. If you’re not going to sit can you at least pound quieter? All the cells in my body beg for relief. You act like monkeys! Monkeys go to heaven. Heaven is no place for demons. Place like food. McDonalds! My hands grip the desk, knuckles shining white like the teacher’s forehead sweat.

    “Silas. Are you alright? Silas? Can you answer me?” The teacher’s cranky voice distracts the demons from their goal, giving me a second to gain control.

    I mumble an abundance of mixed words under my breath in response. The air in the room clouds my airways as I struggle for a deep breath. Her weak hands are placed on my shoulders, her face only two inches away from mine. The classroom is empty spare a few straggling students who are gathering their things before lunch. My limbs continue to shake. Tapping. Stomping. Shuttering. Shutters. Windows. Escape.

    The demons peer through my pupils, taking a close look at the young lady in front of me. My math teacher’s mouth is moving, but the words are foreign.

    “I’m calling the nurse now. You’re going to be okay. Stay in your seat. Do not get up,” she says while walking over to the wall phone hanging a few feet from the door. My legs hear a different story, lifting themselves out of the chair and closer to her. Wobbly.

“I can handle this on my own! I do not need a nurse. Everyone else can control them. I can too.” I use every muscle in my mouth to form the phrases, not sure if what I’m saying and what I want to say are identical.

    I watch as Ms. Burke’s mouth turns into a frown. “Silas, please sit back down. The nurse is coming. I know you don’t need help, but I want to give you some.” The demons growl, scratching the inside of my eyes, only a second from escaping my brain and pouring onto the tiled floor.

    “The demons will escape! Run like wind! Wind dances on sunny days! The demons will kill you! Have you killed anyone?” A pitter-patter of rushed footsteps fly down the hallway and into my classroom. A herd of nurses use their tiny hands to prod at my arms, like birds’ beaks searching for worms in fertile soil. Birds kill worms. I kill people. I repeat my question, but they all ignore me. See what you did now, demons? Now they won’t even talk to me. Why don’t you go bother someone else? Their bodies disintegrate into voices.

    I try to pry the voices apart, but there are too many for me to organize. Organize like I did with my pencils as a young child. Color coded. Like shots. They color code the needles. I don’t want a needle. I don’t want a needle! If I get a needle, then you are paying! I will end you once and for all. Like I ended all those other people. I know that in order to defeat them, I would have to be stronger. I have to be as strong as everyone else. Why am I so weak?

    The nurses shove me into a wheelchair and roll me down the hallway to open doors that reveal a firework of lights on a mini truck.

    Ms. Burke uses her calming voice to comfort me. “You are going in an ambulance to a hospital. It won’t be bad; I promise. They will help you. They will know what to do. I don’t know what to do, but they will. Are you  listening to me, Silas?” I wasn’t. I know they won’t help me. They can’t tell me how to control myself. This was me. This was the real me. How and why would they want to change that? How can they do that to someone with such an amazing personality? They couldn’t do that to me. You killed people. Shut up, demons. When I’m talking to you, my thoughts are more jumbled than a jigsaw puzzle, so I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.

    The flashing car drives me to a tall white building lined with evenly spaced windows. A concrete arch separates the hospital property from the outside world. Look where you made me go. Another hospital. Another room. Rooms are deafening. I scream at the demons, but they only respond with a soft grunt. A nurse stands directly in front of me, her hair tied in a secure bun, ready to wheel me out of the ambulance when it pulls to a stop. The back door flies open, and my defenses kick in. My arms flail, forcing my body into a sprawled position on the pavement. Cries of help are shot from a swarm of nurses that rush around me, all trying to be the first ones to help. They’re out to get me. They’re going to kill me because I killed them. The demons mumbled laughter proves victory. CONTROL. Control needs to be in my hands. Hands are used to destroy. Destroy the monkeys. Destroy the demons.

    After a few moments of struggling, my body goes limp. My heart slows. My eyes close. I awake a few hours later, tied to a bed with leather straps. A young man stands over me, dissecting me with his glaring eyes. Beady eyes. Beating me. Beating everyone.

    “Hello, Silas. I am Doctor Foyer, and I will be helping you through your stay at the hospital. I have some information to tell you, so I suggest that you lay still and don’t speak.”

    I listened.

    “We’ve done some tests that lead us to believe that you have the early forms of schizophrenia. It is treatable, and we recommend that you take medicine called Vraylar to help ease your delusions. I talked to your teacher, Ms. Burke, and she said your grades have declined, along with your ability to focus. She also said you don’t have many friends. In fact, she hasn’t seen you talk to anyone in the last few weeks. This is called ‘Social Withdrawal’ and that means loss of interest in interacting with others. Do you know why this is?”

    I shake my head no, careful not to rub against the raw skin on my cheeks where the mouth guard rests.

    “Well, this is a common sign of schizophrenia. Sometimes symptoms as these are linked with depression, but there is still one more aspect I’d like to talk about.” The doctor paces rapidly as he talks, like he is afraid of something. Something like the demons. The demons haunt him too. He must know about them. I need to talk to him.

    I try to form words but only let out soft moans. Moans are rainbows are rain clouds are raining.

    “Please, do not try to talk. Only listen. Let me start with this: you are not alone. About 2.2 million people in the United States have schizophrenia. And most of them have reported something that they like to call: monsters in their heads. Do you ever hear the monsters?”

     Are you guys monsters? Furious demons shake their heads up and down rapidly, so I do too.  The doctor smiles with an eery satisfaction.

    “That’s what I thought. Most schizophrenics suffer from hallucinations or delusions. These are called positive symptoms. Positive symptoms are psychotic behaviors not generally seen in healthy people. People with positive symptoms may “lose touch” with some aspects of reality. It is nothing to be scared of, I’m only trying to provide you with the correct information.”

    No. No. No. The demons are real. They are not delusions. Everyone has them. I hear them. I talk to them. They have to be real. My mind races with anger towards this uneducated doctor. His mouth speaks, but his brain doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. The demons attack from the inside, moving my limbs without my brain having any say.
    “We are going to keep you in the hospital for a few more days, but those days will most likely turn into weeks depending how you respond to treatment. I suggest you listen very carefully and do everything you are told without complaint, but you, Silas, can do whatever you please. I will check in on you in another couple hours to see how you are doing.” The doctor’s lips shut tightly as he walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my demons.