I'm Not Crazy

1

They won’t stop whispering.

Clifford.

You are worthless.

We’re watching you.

Everybody who passes by on these trains knows how worthless you are.

It must be quiet to someone like Randy, asleep on the other side of the tracks, but to me, it’s an inescapable hell. I remember when they first came to me, when I was much younger than I am now. The first one, the worst one, introduced himself as Bates, and has never stopped telling me the most petrifying things. The second one, the only girl, came in screaming, but not without a vengeance. She calls herself Ivy. The last one is the mildest one, a gravelly old man who mostly just stays quiet and lets the others do the talking and the screaming and the fussing. This is Crow.

Sleep is impossible for me to get, and not just because the hard ground beneath my shoddy blue blanket is starting to put another crick in my neck. Bates starts yelling at me again.

This ground is awful! It’s a shame you’re homeless, or you’d be in a comfy bed right now!

Shut up, Bates! I yell back. I shut my eyes ever so tightly, roll over towards the wall and try my best to fall asleep.

It doesn’t work.

Frustrated, I sit up and glance at my watch. 2:37 a.m. Have I been awake all night?

Crow answers in his gravelly voice. "Yes, you fool. And the night before that, and the night before that…"

Stop! Just stop! I need to go to sleep!

I hunker back down and wait for sleep to eventually numb not only my body, but also my brain.

* * *

Morning rears its ugly head, and I am met with the hustle and bustle of people taking the early trains for work.

Five more minutes.

"Get up, you bastard. Get up. Get up. Get up. Ge—"

Okay, I’m up, Ivy. I sit up, annoyed, and take in my familiar surroundings. A train whirs in front of me, so for a few seconds I can’t see Randy on the other side. People walk past me, some getting on the train, some getting off. I glance into my paint bucket. There’s a few coins clinking at the bottom; not enough to buy me breakfast. I’m not that hungry anyway, and I need to keep my spot in case people steal what little belongings I own. This is New York, after all. I’ve learned to trust no one.

"Hey Cliff," Bates sneers, "You know what would be fun?"

I stay silent. I know that what he has to say would not be fun.

"You see that glowing orb over there, above that lady’s head?"

I look around, and sure enough, there it is. A lady with straight brown hair and giant purple sunglasses resting on top. Right above those sunglasses floats a shiny ball of glowing orange light.

"Don’t you want to run over and touch it? Grab it before it disappears?"

What happens when it goes away? I say.

"Something terrible, Bates says. "Something so awful that you won’t be able to live with yourself afterwards."

Goosebumps form up my arms. What if something terrible actually will happen? Something so bad that it might hurt me, or even worse, kill me.

Or Randy.

Or anyone else here.

Ivy starts panicking. "Clifford, get the orb! Who knows what will happen if you don’t? Everyone could die! Randy could suffer a painful, agonizing death, and it will be all your fault."

She’s right, I could be responsible for my best friend’s demise, all because I didn’t grab that glowing orb.

"Don’t just sit there, grab the damn thing!" Ivy says.

I scramble to my feet, nearly falling in the process. I race over to the brown-haired lady and seize the orb. I look at its glowing presence in my hands, nearly blinding me, but I can’t look away. I don’t want to. I leave to bring it back to my spot, but a bony hand on my shoulder abruptly stops me.

Hey!

I spin around. The brown-haired lady is glaring at me.

Where do you think you’re going with my sunglasses?

Sunglasses?

I look down at my glimmering prize. Its light dims, fades away slowly, and then it disappears in a puff of smoke. Bates, Ivy, and Crow start laughing. Resting in my hand is not the orb, but the lady’s purple sunglasses.

My sunglasses! the lady screeches.

I’m sorry, I say. I-I just… I didn’t know.

You didn’t know? the lady says. You didn’t know you to my designer sunglasses from my head? Did you not think I’d see that?

No-I-I-I’m sorry, I stammer. People are staring. The voices laugh even harder.

Hand them over! she says.

"Give them back," Crow whispers.

I look down at the sunglasses, then at the lady. She’s fuming. I awkwardly hand them back to her; she yanks them from my hand, and walks off. I stand there in shock. I can’t even process what just happened.

You, Bates says, are pathetic."

You guys are the ones that made me do it! None of this would have happened if—

"None of this would have happened if you hadn’t listened to us."

Then why did you make me do it?

"For fun," Bates says.

"I tried to stop him," Crow says.

No you didn’t, I say.

"I did, but I must not have done a very good job."

You think?

Just then, a man in a nice suit looks at me funny. Who on earth are you talking to, you weirdo? he says. I stare at the floor, not knowing what to say. He walks away in a huff, mumbling about idiots like me making him late for work. I trudge back to my spot near the wall and sit back down.

My spot, my only safe haven, all nice and cozy, with my messy paint buckets holding different colors of paint and a few canvasses leaning against the wall. My backpack leans beside it, and my blue blanket lying underneath it all. I sigh as I lay back down on it and shut my eyes. Bates, Ivy and Crow lure me to sleep, whispering the words stupid and worthless over and over and over.

2

I wake up to Ivy screaming, which sends me into a panic.

What’s wrong? I say.

You haven’t had anything to eat yet! It’s almost ten now, and we’re all famished!

Calm down Ivy. I’m going to eat something, as soon as I get up.

I sit up with a little difficulty due to my being groggy. Waking up to jarring panic-induced screams is not exactly what I wanted to do, but at least I feel somewhat rested. Hey Cliff, you talkin’ to them voices again? I look up and see Randy staring at me. Randy’s beard is dirty, Bates says.

Yes, Randy, I say with a sigh.

Randy doesn’t really understand my schizophrenia; he just goes along with it. Once I tried to explain it to him as best I could, but he still doesn’t completely get it. I admire how loving and caring he is about it though, despite not having a clue about the terrible things they say to me and how they can send me over the edge in a matter of minutes.

You goin’ into town? he says.

Yeah.

Find me somethin’ to eat, will ya? I’m starving, and I’ll guard your spot for ya. Alright, I’ll grab you something. Might be awhile though; I didn’t get much in the ol’ paint bucket today. I stand up and dust myself off.

"Don’t go into town."

Why not?

"There’s people out there. People that could hurt you if you’re not careful. People that could murder you or, or judge you, or not give you anything to eat. You’ll starve today, and you’ll be empty-handed and left to come back here to wither away and die. And all because you had to go into the city for some lousy food!"

Ivy, calm down! You panic like this every time I go into town, and every time nothing bad happens to me! I’ll be fine, I promise! You’ll see.

The end-of-summer’s heat wafts into my face as soon as I come out of the station. I look around and see herds of people all going in different directions. A guy on a skateboard whizzes past me. "He could have hit you," Crow says. A woman talks loudly on her phone nearby, telling her friend all about her latest shopping trip and how she bought three tops for $10.99! This sounds interesting; I’ve been needing some new clean clothes. I lean in to see if I can catch the name of the store, but just then, Bates butts in.

You can’t go and buy clothes, you moron! You came out here to get some food with what little is in that nasty paint bucket of yours.

I gasp. The bucket! I forgot to grab the change out of the bucket!

The lady looks at me with a puzzled expression, and then proceeds to tell her friend on the phone that a creep on the sidewalk is yelling something about a bucket.

Ivy says, "Go get the change out of the bucket." I turn back around and head back down the steps of Times Square Subway Station. I run back to my spot and empty the contents of my paint bucket. A few coins, dollar bills, and a gum wrapper. "Gross," Crow sneers.

That comes to three dollars, and about seventy-five cents.

"Not that much," Bates scoffs. "Less than yesterday."

I shove the money in my pocket and run back outside.

"You idiot," Bates says, You forgot the damn money. Who goes out to buy food and forgets to bring money? I ignore him and start walking down the sidewalk, looking around for some vendors or somewhere I can get something to eat. So many people. It’s hard to walk in a straight line without having to veer out of the way.

Ivy chimes in. "Everyone is looking at you. They’re all staring at you, in your tattered, dirty clothes. They’re judging you for wearing them. They can smell you from a mile away, cause your last bath was a hundred years ago."

Thank you for your input, Ivy. I say with a sigh.

I continue walking and I see a pizza vendor across the street. A big sign overhead reads, ALL PIZZA $1! TODAY ONLY!

Perfect! I stop at the crosswalk and press the button. As my finger leaves the button, I see a small animal standing in the road. What’s that, Ivy wonders.

I look closer and notice that it’s a tiny white kitten, stranded alone in the road, with a taxi cab hurdling towards him. I race over to grab him before the taxi does, and just before my hand could reach down to pick him up, I’m stopped short by the taxi screeching to a halt and honking at me.

I look up to see the driver’s frustrated face and an accompanying finger gesture poking out of his window.

Ivy starts to panic again. Oh no, she says. Now he’s pissed at you and now everyone is looking at you, you’re in the road and you’ll be hit by a car!

I glance back down at the kitten, only to see that he wasn’t there. Where did he go? Suddenly I hear loud maniacal laughter—Bates. I sigh, and the car honks again.

Get out of the road, Crow says.

I hurry out of the road to the other side where the pizza vendor stands behind the counter. They make their usual observations as he says hello.

Green shirt.

Red hat.

Black mustache.

Hi, I tell him. Can I get two pieces of pepperoni pizza please?

Sure thing, he says. He points to some tables huddled together. For here or to-go?

"Leave," they say.

Uh, to-go, please.

He takes my pizza and puts it all in a small pizza box and hands it to me.

That’ll be $2.57. I give him all my money. He counts it and gives me the rest.

One dollar and eighteen cents is your change, sir. Have a nice day.

He won’t.

Thank you, I reply. I pocket my change and leave.

Strolling down the street with my pizza box in hand, I suddenly hear my name being called.

Ivy, is that you? I say.

I hear it again: Clifford!

I turn in all directions to try and see who it is, and I notice a woman standing there in the distance. I blink hard; it might be another hallucination.

Clifford! she calls again.

She’s real. How would she know my name? I start toward her, eager to see what she wants. As she comes closer, I notice how pretty she is. She walks towards me, looking as if she had just stepped into the sunlight, for the sun’s rays seem to be following her. She brushes her long dark hair out of her face to reveal the most beautiful pair of emerald green eyes that I have