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I’m marrying my long time love this summer. We met through a mutual friend of ours, and even though she hated the idea of the two of us being an us, we were an us. That make sense? He’s so sweet too. I admitted I was a Schizophrenic, half expecting him to walk out of the door and never come back home, but instead, he hugged me and told me not to worry about the cameras in our house.

He even protects me from the helicopters. I know he views me as insane, but he never lets that stop him from being there for me. I was packing up my things to move to Indiana, he wanted to be closer to him family and I wanted out of California. I was packing my Blizzard strategy guides away when I heard my favorite nursery rhyme, Ring Around the Rosie.

It didn’t sound like my mom, but it was female. It came from the hallway. I opened my bedroom door and looked down. There sat my old Victorian wooden doll. My mother bought her for me when I was 16. Her face was cracked and her hair was a matted mess of knots, but I loved her. I picked her up but quickly dropped her when I heard a scream. The scream came from the doll.

The next day, I shoved her in a bag full of stuff I wasn’t going to/didn’t need when I was in Indiana and dropped it off at the Goodwill, the safe Goodwill in town. Where I live, white means you have a target on you for Mexican gangs. I spent the rest of that day at my favorite bookstore in town, Bookman. I got home, each hand holding two full plastic bags of books each, when I gasped.

The doll sat on my bed. I didn’t bother with Goodwill, instead I marched outside and threw her in the trash for tomorrow’s pick up. After dinner and a nice talk with my fiancé, I managed to go to bed. I was careful not to tell him about the doll, didn’t want him to think that the stress of the wedding was triggering my Schizophrenia. I woke at midnight to Ring Around the Rosie.

I turned over in bed and saw the doll was tucked in next to me. I decided to tell Leroy, my fiancé. He didn’t believe me. I had put the doll on the kitchen counter and I pulled him to see the doll. She wasn’t there. He simply laughed and kissed my head. I decided to take the pills my therapist gave me. Stress is a great way to kick in hallucinations, apparently. I heard it again, Ring Around the Rosie! I looked in the hallway. No doll. I went into the living room and saw that Leroy was sitting on the couch

I told him I think the pills were working, but he didn’t even show me that he had heard me. I stepped a little closer and said it a little louder. Nothing still. I stepped behind the couch and threw my hands over his eyes. I said it louder still. Nothing. But I kissed his head, maybe he was exhausted and trying not to doze. I pulled my hands away and noticed they were covered in blood. I spun around and looked at myself in the mirror in the dining room. My lips were smeared in the red goo. I ran around to actually see Leroy.

His face was gone. I stumbled backwards and flopped onto the second sofa. My doll was sitting there, Leroy’s face in her lap, a bloody message on the wall behind the couch:

We’ll be together, forever. 

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