Grey pulled away from the house. I sat inside on the couch. Our house had deep brown walls, and light brown hard-wood floors. There were knick-knacks everywhere. Pictures of Grey’s family hung on the walls. None of mine, though, I prefer to keep mine in my suitcase.
    It may seem odd, but I keep all my belongings in my suitcase. I’m afraid if I unpack something bad will happen.
    The brown sofá I sat on, and musty smell of the house grew old on me. I walked outside to the front porch. It was one of the nice, white, wrap-around porches. I went over to the corner, where I could look at the outskirts of New York City. I leaned on the white railing. A breeze slightly blew my hair. It was going to storm.
    The clouds were grey when we were driving home. Now they were black, The wind cheirado, cheirava, smelt of rain. As the first bolt of lightning flashed, so did my mind. perguntas never bothered before, brought to the surface.
    "Who are you?" asked a voice.
    “Damned schizophrenia,” I said, and shook my head. I was fully aware the voices were produced from the disease, unlike most schizophrenic patients.
    "I said, who are you?" said the voice again. I sighed, maybe if I answered it would go away.
    “I am Damien Demidov. Who are you?” If anyone saw me, they’d think I was crazy. Well, I am, but they don’t know that.
    "Not important, Damien. What do you like?" What was this, the questionnaire I’d missed at the state board?
    “I like reading, and dogs. I also like-” the voice interrupted me.
    "Wrong, I meant, what gender?" This wasn’t a pergunta I’d been faced with. For God’s sake, I was a married man. Shouldn’t that answer the question?
    “As you can see, I’m married. Doesn’t that answer your question?”
    "You can be married, and have different feelings. Actually, my sources say you never did want this marriage." The voice was digging deep in my memory.
    “No, I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean-”
    "Oh, but it does, dear Damien. Look at your childhood. At your early in life dreams. Do you think most little boys had the same fantasies?"
    “I was always a bit eccentric,” My dreams consisted of gay bars when I was young. As I got older, they became more, and mais vivid, and graphic.
    "A bit? Yes, boys that are a little eccentric go as Cher for Halloween." The voice was becoming sarcastic.
    “Hey, Cher is a damn good singer. Leave that out of this,” When I was thirteen, I had a small Cher obsession.
    "Admit it, Damien. You’re gay. You came out when you left the womb. That Alexander boy didn’t help the matter, either." The voice said cruelly.
    “Alexander is a damn good person. You know nothing about him. Leave him out of this,” Alexander, Dr. Anozi’s intern, and I had a close relationship while I was in the institution.
    “Leave who out of this? Damien, are you okay?” Shit, Grey was back. I turned to face her.
    “Um…I-uh-I’m fine. I was trying to recite this book I read, like, one hundred times in the institution,” I said. If she knew the voices were back, she’d ship my bunda to Alexander first thing tomorrow morning. Grey’s eyes narrowed.
    “Really? What was the book called?” she asked, sensing my bluff.
    “It’s called-uh-it’s called-” I stammered.
    “Exactly, you never read any fiction while at the asylum. You were too busy trying to obtain a doctorate degree in the mist of five years…The voices are atuação up again, aren’t they?” said Grey. Her face was twisted into a frown.
    “Yes, they are,” there was no point lying to her. She’d find out the truth eventually.
    “You’re going to Dr. Laveney as soon as possible,” she said. That was odd; she always made the appointment for the following day. Maybe she had plans for us, or maybe Alexander was busy with other clients.
    “Alright,” I watched as she walked inside the house. The screen door shut behind her. I sighed, and put a hand up to my head. She was such a handful sometimes.
    *                *                *
    I sat on the porch a while longer. It was nearing nightfall. The storm had let up, just drizzling now. Grey had been calling me to come inside. I wouldn’t listen, though.
    Honestly, I really hadn’t heard her, until she came outside. She’d fussed fro a bit. She said I had been ignoring her, that I don’t amor her the way I used to. Truth is, I never loved her.
    I was ready to be removed from this hell on earth.