I started medication. I started acting weirder under their effects, kids at my school avoided me and called me crazy. The medication settled. I changed school. Started over. I made some friends. Meganne and Sophie. I confessed about what I used to see. The next thing I knew, the entire school knew, and the cycle had begun anew. I thought at least I didn’t see him anymore. I still misplaced objects sometimes, but compared to him, it was no big deal.
Then I was out shopping with my parents, I saw him in the reflection of a mirror. He waved at me. This time, he was carrying a rope where different dead fish were impaled. I started crying hysterically, for I knew I wouldn’t get rid of him. I wouldn’t fit in. I wouldn’t be normal. I stopped going anywhere for a long time afterwards, locked myself in my room. My father was the most obviously worried. He wasn’t cold and stern like my mother was.
He sometimes took break from work just to spend time with me, try his best to chase out the loneliness that I felt. We cooked a lot together, cleaned the house together, washed the dishes, did the laundry, and meditated. I grew very close to him, and he was the only friend I had at the time. A year passed, and my mother snapped finally, saying I couldn’t stay locked in the house forever. I was surprised she even lasted this long. My dad tried to defend me. It was too much for their already tense relationship, and days later they broke up. I went to live with my dad. It was silent and painful now, but at least we had each other. I tried to return to school for him. A new one, again. I was scared the incident from the previous school would repeat itself, so I isolated myself from the other student. They called me a snob.