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My parents abandoned me a decade ago to the walls of this institution. They believed my troubled childhood mind was something sinister instead of homegrown or explainable. The truth is that my condition is complicated. It's messy and often misunderstood.

I've worn all types of labels over the years: Non-believer, pariah, deranged, orphan... It's all in my file if you care to understand me better. However, the label that implanted the deepest and garnered the most attention is the one I wear, like a Scarlet Letter. It precedes me when I enter a room and gets whispered about like a schoolyard crush.

Paranoid Schizophrenic.

Dr. Sutton has some lofty ideas about my condition and claims mental illness is only one aspect of hundreds that make me who I am. Not one to shy away from a challenge, he thinks he can help me. His confidence is legendary, but I've carried this burden for a long time. Despite what he thinks, I can't be fixed.

He doesn't realize I'm falling for him or that I have some lofty ideas of my own. He should know better because people like me deserve a hero, too.
 

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