The Tree house
I know that I’m different. People act like they are walking on eggshells around me; afraid that if they say or do the wrong thing I might break. I might as well have a sign on my forehead that says, ‘Beware, I’m Schizophrenic’. I try my best to keep my illness hidden, but sometimes I can’t control it. The last time I was in the psychiatric hospital was nine months ago. It was one of the worst episodes I've had in a long time.
Joe and I were walking to the creek when an urge to fly started to grow inside of me. I ran up the cliff that overlooked the water and stood on the edge. Joe ran up next to me, trying to talk in a calm voice he said, “What are you doing Chloe?”
I smiled at the sky saying, “I know I can do it. I know that if I jump I will fly. I’ll fly far away from this place, and you can come with me.”
Joe walked up next to me gently putting his hand on my shoulder. In a shaky voice he said, “Chloe, someday I promise you that we will escape from this place together, but for now I think we should just go home.”
I ignored what he just said and took a step closer to the edge, extending my arms on either side of me. “It’s easy Joe. All you have to do is close your eyes, then-” I took another step leaving only one foot left on the ground. A hand grabbed my arm and yanked me back. I screamed, “Why did you do that?!” I launched my body towards the edge but his arms were once again there to stop me. I collapsed to the ground sobbing. My fists punched the ground until my knuckles bled and I blacked out. I woke up in a hospital bed, damaged and bruised.
My mind comes back to the present as I step outside. I stand still for a moment, letting the sun melt my stress away and autumn air fill my lungs. I break into the treeline and continue to run until I’m far enough away that the world seems to disappear. Streaks of sunlight shine through the trees; the warm rays landing on my face. I hear something deep within the woods. I listen carefully, trying to hear where it is coming from. My feet run in the direction of the sound. As I race farther into the woods, the noise gets louder. I hear it, as if it was right in front of me. I search all around me but am unable to find the source. I look up and see a woodpecker pecking at a tree house hidden in behind branches. The little house is insignificant, but there is something about it that is intriguing. I search the bottom of the tree for a ladder and find a rickety wooden one underneath overgrown ivy. I climb it until I reach the top, entering in through a hole in the bottom of the old house. The inside isn't what I expected it to be. Stacks of books line one of the walls, while the other is covered with beautiful artwork. I browse through the novels: To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, Of Mice and Men, and dozens more, each one battered and torn. My eyes scan the art; pictures of enchanted woods and majestic trees painted in vibrant colors.
The sun is setting, a warm glow entering the tree house. I hear leaves crunching on the forest floor followed by feet climbing the ladder. I quickly search for somewhere to hide, but find nothing other than four walls. All I can do is stay exactly where I am. A head peeks through the entrance in the floor, deep blue eyes meet mine. He climbs through the hole until he is standing in front of me. He stares at me with a puzzled look on his face. He says, “Um, who are you?”
I respond, “I’m Chloe, who are you?”
“I’m Jack. Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same question” I say, snapping at him.
“I live here. What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I saw this house in the trees and was curious. You have great taste in literature and you’re quite the artist.” I say, “I love reading. It’s a great escape from life, you know?”
He walks over to the piles of books and says, “My favorite is Tom Sawyer.” He talks passionately about his novels. The last thing I hear him say is something about the smell of library books before I zone out and gaze at him. Every move he makes is strong and has a purpose. His dark hair is shaggy down to his ears and a five o’clock shadow grows on his jawline. I watch his jaw muscles tense as he talks. He stands confidently, broad shoulders casting a shadow over his worn books. He catches me staring and a smile creeps up his face.
Time passes us by as we talk. I focus hard on everything I say, not wanting my speech to jumble and reveal my illness. I slip up on a few occasions but Jack doesn't seem to notice, or if he does he doesn't bring it up. When the sun sets I decide I need to return home so my parents won’t worry. As I descend down the ladder Jack shouts through the hole, “I’ll see you tomorrow right?”
“Of course,” I yell back.

We meet everyday at the bottom of the tree. Then we sit in the house and discuss whatever comes to mind. Neither of us talk about the world beyond this place. One day, without thinking, I ask him why he lives in the tree house. Jack responds with a simple answer, “I didn't have a great life growing up; I would come here to get away. Now, it is the only place I want to be.”
Today he stands at the bottom of the ladder, his arms crossed over his chest. A grin appears on his face when he sees me walking towards him. Jack says, “Let’s take a walk.” We walk together in silence, our fingers interlaced. I’m unsure of where we are going, but I don't care where it is because being with him is enough. He leads me to the creek, the cliff where my incident took place high above us. Jack pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to me. I open it and find myself drawn on the paper. A girl with my scarlet hair and freckled face stands on a cliff with her arms extended at her sides. I look up at him, but he isn't in front of me anymore. He is now standing on the cliff, arms out, ready to fly. I walk up behind him. Jack turns around and stares deep into my eyes. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I saw you that day from behind the trees and I want you to know that I thought you were beautiful. I know you aren't like everyone else and to me that makes you even more beautiful.” He puts his hands on my face, pulling my lips towards his, closer and closer until they meet.
I tell my family and my best friend Joe about Jack. I don’t say anything about him living in the woods, but I tell them I've found someone who cares about me and accepts me for who I am. Both my parents and Joe are looking forward to meeting the boy I can’t stop talking about. In my head I imagine Jack meeting my family and it being perfect.
Jack would come to my house to have dinner with my family. The scent of fresh apples and cinnamon would hang in the air from the homemade pie my mom had spent all day preparing. Jack and Joe would instantly become good friends and talk for hours about their interests. My dad would tell me that he thinks Jack is a nice young man and worthy of his little girl. Most importantly, my schizophrenia would leave me alone for one flawless evening. That is all I want, just one night where things go my way.
I plan the dinner just like I see it in my head. Jack will come over tonight to meet the people I love and my family will meet the boy I love. When the clock strikes six my family is at the dinner table, ready for Jack to knock on the door at any moment, but six comes and goes with no sign of him. At seven fifteen we are still waiting, thinking something came up and he is running late. But seven passes and Jack still hasn't arrived. I tell my family that I will go get him and to have the food ready because I will be back with him in a few minutes. I run outside into the crisp autumn air, Joe follows behind me. I turn around, “What are you doing?” I say.
“The sun is setting, I’m not letting you walk alone in the dark” he says.
I grunt, “Fine,but you can’t tell my parents where he lives, they won’t like it.”
“Cross my heart,” he says. We walk through the dark until I spot the tree I've climbed so many times before. I run up to it yelling for Jack.
“Chloe,” says Joe, “What are you looking at?”
I point up to the small house that sits in the branches. “That tree house. It’s where Jack lives.”
“There is nothing up there Chloe, just leaves and branches.”
“What do you mean? Its right there!” I say, frantically pointing up the tree.
“I think we should go home,” he says reaching for my hand.
I swat his hand away, “No, he is here I know it!” I walk over to where the ladder stands, putting my foot on the first step, but I can’t grab a hold of anything. I look down at my foot hanging in midair with no ladder beneath it. My eyes up the tree, searching for a small house, but find nothing. The branches blow freely in the wind, no longer restricted from the house they once held. “Where did it go? Jack, where are you?” I exclaim. My mind begins to spin. I feel light headed and fall to the ground. I lay there like the leaves that have fallen from the trees. Joe’s voice fades with the rest of the world as my mind slips into darkness.
My eyes open to fluorescent lights and white walls. My mom and dad sit at my bedside, concern consuming their faces. They ask, “Do you know what happened?”
“Nothing happened that’s what,” I say, “It was all in my head wasn't it?” Silence answers my question.