Breakdown of Reality

               Michael stared at the corner of the room, sitting on his chair. He was dressed in green scrubs that were disheveled and dirty, his curly sandy blonde hair was shoulder length, and he had an unkempt beard. His blue eyes darted from each wall that connected the corner of the room, tracking things that just weren’t there. He had his right hand closed around his left bicep, fingers tapping against the arm.

               The room was a cafeteria in an old mental hospital that had closed down years ago. Michael had never felt comfortable anywhere else though, so when he was moved from the premises he just came back. His protector kept care of him though, and he never lacked for food or water. The paint on the walls was peeling, the windows were dirty, and there was a layer of dust collecting on the tables and floors.

               The door opened and Michael jumped slightly in his chair. He started rocking back and forth, the speed of his fingers tapping increased.

               “Coming to get me,” he said, “Coming to get me again.”

               Stella kneeled down next to him. Her leather pants creaked loudly as she came down on her knees. Her long black hair was windswept, her dark black eyes looking deeply and meaningfully at Michael. There was blood on the white shirt she wore under her brown leather duster and she smelled of gasoline. She smiled at Michael as she reached up to stroke his hair.

               “They’re not coming to get you,” she told him, “I won’t let them, and I’ll gladly kill each and every one of them before that happens.”

               Michael slowly nodded, leaning against Stella as he began to relax and calm down. Stella wrapped her arm around him, resting him on her duster, keeping him away from her bloody shirt. She kissed the top of his head gently and lovingly.

               Something on the wall that Stella couldn’t see caught Michael’s eye and he straightened up, pulling away from her. She smiled and squeezed his shoulder.

               “Well, I’ve got to change, it was a particularly bloody day out there,” she said, “You’ll be ok here, right?”

               Michael didn’t respond to her question, his eyes darting back and forth, so Stella stood up. She walked out the room, leaving him behind. He was her lunatic, and she was his psychopath, and she’d burn the world down before she let anything come between them.