TPD- Schizophrenia

(The Psychiatric Disorder, Schizophrenia)

Nia O'Brien's shivers shook her entire frame but she hardly noticed. She was waiting anxiously for River Bateman to arrive, her hands occasionally running up and down the length of her arms in an unconscious attempt to keep warm.

The eighteen year old girl was standing on the grassy path of a motorway. It was 12:30AM on a foggy February morning, so the sky was an ominous black-blue colour and the trees were menacing silhouettes that emitted hostility and danger. Each car passing by, scarce as they were, unsettled her thumping heart and quickened her unsteady pulse. She could hear it, throbbing through her ear drums. The wind was making it all worse, twisting her pin-straight red-brown hair this way and that, howling loud then disappearing, leaving her to endure the piteous beats of her own heart. The sound of tyres on the tarmac, both near and far, squeaked into her from all sides. Her head pounded and she wanted to scream, so bad did she want to yell.

But she couldn't.
They'd find out. They'd make her take those pills again. And River hated it when she took those pills. The ones that made her mad. He never came near her when she had one. He stayed clear away-

As yet another car thundered past, Nia felt her lengthy nails dig into her pale, fragile skin and drag downwards leaving white marks and beads of blood to seep from the wound; fear was creeping in as she waited longer and longer for him. Minutes had become hours. Hours of standing in the cold. She sneezed; too cold, too little protection from the weather. All she was wearing was a white spaghetti strapped tank top and torn blue jeans shorts. All that protected her feet were flimsy ballet pumps that really did nothing. But she never needed much when he was around.

'River,' she whispered, so gently the almost still air could have swept it away. So wilfully, it was as though just the thought of him making his way towards her would make it a reality. It must have worked, though, because suddenly her cracked, light pink lips stretched into a rare smile as her dull green eyes caught sight of him, River Bateman, materialising through the thick fog. It worked.

'Nia,' his answering smile, a thousand and one times brighter than Nia's and so much more natural, almost turned her knees to jelly. She stood still, the atmosphere around her forgotten as she watched him approach. When he was less than an arm's length away from her, a salty tear slipped quickly down her cheeks and landed on her lips, moisturising them slightly. She licked it off.

'Nia, what are you doing? You must be cold…' He took her in his arms, and though she felt no warmer on the outside, her heart inflated and warmed with love. 'Why didn't you wear something warmer?' River asked he as he pulled away slightly, trying to look at her.

'I don't know,' she whispered into his chest as she pulled herself closer and buried her head against it. This was all she wanted; to bury herself deeper inside him so she no longer had to face her life. Her stupid, messed up life. They were all after her. When they would realise she was gone, she didn't know. Suddenly her head snapped up and she looked into River's eyes. 'Let's go now. Let's escape. They might be after me already-'

'Hey, hey, hey,' River's palm smoothed her hair down, calming her restless nerves a fraction. 'We'll go, we'll go. I just want to enjoy this. Being with you…' Once again Nia melted. She wanted to enjoy being with him too, but if they found her they would be separated for a long time, and if that happened she'd have to leave without him, yet she wouldn't have the courage. The courage she only had when he was around. River was her stronghold. He was what kept her going… But they all said he was bad for her. That she should stop thinking about him, calling him back. She wasn't calling him back. He was coming of his own accord; he loved her.