Start the song in the media. It's Please Be Naked by The 1975. This is my favorite chapter in the story so far. Schizoid is only 14 chapters long, 16 if you count the Introduction and Epilogue. The end is nigh. Enjoy!

Jenna grips the wheel tightly as she turns it to make a left at Belle Reve's entrance. She eyes Mark for a fleeting second as he obliviously slides off his glasses, pulling his lens cleaner out of his pocket before rubbing them over the prescription plastic. Her breathing is calculated: in through the nose, out through the mouth. She parts her perfectly pink lips to allow the carbon dioxide to pass. She watches Mark out of her peripherals as he puts his square-framed spectacles back on, fitting them perfectly to rest on the bridge of his nose.

"Why are you so nervous?" The man asks, breaking the silence.

Jenna rolls her eyes. "You're a psychologist, not a behavioral analyst."

"I don't need some fancy degree to know when you're nervous," Mark points out. "It's like sometimes you forget that I actually know you."

"I don't forget," Jenna disagrees, "I just don't talk about it. Aren't you the one that told me to stop taking things personally?"

Mark laughs as Jenna pulls up to a security window, flashing her credentials before the officer raises the barrier. "Why are you so nervous?" he repeats.

"I don't know," Jenna sighs. "It's just like... I made a lot of progress with him yesterday. What if he totally shuts down after I bring you in here?"

"Do you think he will?"

"I don't know. He's still all weird around me, don't you think that bringing in a guy that's older than him will... I don't know, make him uncomfortable?" She throws the car in a parking space expertly, turning it off and resting her head on her hands, which are still clutching the wheel.

"Hey," Mark says comfortingly, patting her on the back, "we'll see what happens. Everything will be okay."

Jenna nods before perking up, running her fingers through her hair and clapping her hands together. She opens her door and steps out, which incites Mark to do the same. Once in Belle Reve, Mark keeps straight toward Central Containment.

"Mark," Jenna calls, stopping and cocking her head. "This is our turn. The East wing is this way."

"We're not going there," the doctor answers, continuing to walk. Jenna runs to catch up with him, making a sound of frustration. "I didn't bring any of my equipment. We're going to the asylum."

"What?" Jenna screeches. "No, Mark, that place is scary. You're gonna freak him out!"

"What else do you expect me to do? I have some tests to run and I need the monitors from the asylum." He looks down at Jenna's worried eyes. "It'll be okay, it's not that bad."

"Maybe not for you," the blonde mumbles.

"Jenna!" Mark calls out in irritation.

"Okay, okay," the woman replies, throwing her hands up as a sign of surrender. The duo walks in silence through the establishment. It grows darker and more musty as the trek toward Central Containment continues. The thud of Jenna's trademark ankle boots echos off the grey walls, making the scene all the more eerie. Mark scratches at the back of his neck as he approaches the clearance door. Jenna follows after him; he clearly knows his way around the facility. She wonders if that has something to do will the offer he'd received to work at the asylum, but chooses not to ask. Mark presses a button, which causes a buzz loud enough to make Jenna jump in surprise. Next is a click, followed by a muffled voice saying something that Jenna can't understand. Obviously, though, Mark was able to distinguish the language. He answers by stating his last name clearly. Immediately after, there's another click, and then the door finally is unlocked.

"C'mon," the man calls to his companion, holding the door open so she can step through it. Jenna's eyes widen at the sight of the asylum. There are small cells... no, cages that keep each inmate confined to a tiny space in the large area. "This way," Mark says, putting his hand on the small of Jenna's back to keep her calm and guide her. "Their equipment is in the back." Jenna shuddered at the knowledge that her impressionable client would have to see these horrors.

"What?" called a small bleach-blonde woman in a cage as Jenna and Mark walked by, "I should kill everybody and escape?" She laughs as the attorney stops, staring at her with an obvious look of terror. "Sorry, it's the voices," she says, then pauses to giggle manically again. "I'm kidding. That's not what they really said."

"Hey," Mark says gently in Jenna's ear, pushing her forward, "don't pay any attention to her." He pulls his friend closer to him, gripping her hips softly and walking directly behind her to help keep her moving in the right direction. After what seems like forever, the two finally reach the room with equipment, which closely resembles a hospital room. Jenna sits on the bed as a tall man in a long white coat with light brown hair approaches Mark.

"Eshleman? Long time, no see, buddy," he calls, his face glowing as if he and Mark were old friends.

"Gaskarth, how's it going?" Mark is much less enthused, Jenna notes. In fact, he's tense and his language to the taller man is dry.

"Finally decided to come back and get a feel for the place again?"

'Ah, there it is,' Jenna thinks. 'This man must be the one who offered Mark a job here.'

Dr. Eshleman shakes his head, his mouth drawn in a tight smile. "No, I just need to check out an inmate for a psych-eval."

"Oh, yeah?" Gaskarth asks. "I can buzz in security to come get him. What's the name?"

"Tyler Joseph," Jenna pipes in, receiving a flattering grin from the coat clad man.

"I'm Alex, by the way," he says, extending his hand toward her. She introduces herself, taking his hand. Alex's attention goes back to Mark. "I'll page a guard right now, okay?" He leaves the room with another beam towards the duo.

"He seems nice," Jenna notes. "Why don't you like him?"

"Why don't you stop profiling me?" Mark snaps back. Jenna shrugs off his attitude easily. The two don't speak as Mark taps away on the desktop in the corner of the room and fiddles with some fancy form of machinery that Jenna is unfamiliar with. Before long, Alex pops back in the room..

"Your patient is on his way!" He announces cheerfully, sounding proud of himself. The attorney can't help but find him adorable.

"Hey, do me a favor?" Mark asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he continues to type into the computer. "I need access to your MRI lab."

"Yeah, no problem. I actually have to run and check on one of my patients, this kid Lazarus Lane. He's a pretty cool guy unless-"

"- he's ticked off. Yeah. I know Lazarus," Mark says, his voice sounding distant.

"Right," Alex replies, scratching his head slightly. "Well, yeah, I gotta go check on him, but I'll be back soon to walk you guys down for the scan, yeah?"

As soon as Alex leaves, Jenna questions her companion. "Who's Lazarus?"

Mark sighs, finally turning away from the desktop. "One of the people Alex wants me to work with."

"Why won't you do it?"

"Because he's crazy!" He says in a loud whisper.

"You're a psychiatrist," Jenna says, rolling her eyes.

"You don't understand. The girl that talked to you earlier? Harley? He wants me to work with her. And a guy called Floyd Lawton who's pretty off his rocker. June Moone: she's possessed by a witch. And Lazarus... Lazarus likes to be called El Diablo. I'm sure you can imagine why. And you can't forget about Waylon; Killer Croc-"

"Okay, okay," Jenna says, her voice quivering as she looks around the room, frightened. "I get it."

"Hey," Mark coos, sitting on the flat hospital bed next to his companion. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." Before he can comfort her more, a guard is pushing a wide eyed Tyler through the door. Both Mark and Jenna stand.

"Hey, Tyler, I want you to meet my friend Mark Eshleman. He's the guy that I was telling you about? The one that can help you?" Tyler's eyes look more vacant than Jenna's ever seen them. He nods slowly, flicking his gaze toward the man with an indistinguishable facial expression.

"How are you, Tyler?" Mark asks. The younger boy doesn't answer, only stares at the pillow on the bed. Mark looks questioningly to Jenna, who shrugs her shoulders with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"It's okay, honey," she says soothingly, to which the boy nods, taking an audible breath.

"I'm okay," he finally answers Mark, still not looking at him. The doctor pulls his swivel chair across from the bed, then asks Tyler to have a seat, which he does.

"Good. So I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay? Just be honest, it won't be too bad." Tyler nods, his sitting position painfully rigid. "Get comfortable, relax."

"I... I can't." Tyler whispered, his eyes darting up. Jenna looked to the space he was looking at, but it was vacant. Blurryface.

"He can't hurt you, Tyler. Relax," Jenna says softly. Tears well up in the inmate's pretty brown eyes.

"But when I relax... I...." he stutters and trails off. Jenna is confused at Tyler's behavior.

Mark gasps quietly in understanding. "You have a tremor? A twitch?"

"Yes," Tyler replies. "When I relax I can't control it."

Mark's eyes furrow as if he doesn't understand something, then jots a note onto the slip of paper on his lap. "Don't worry about it. We won't judge you." Tyler looks up again, then flinches harshly. "He can't hurt you," Mark said, echoing Jenna's words. Finally, Tyler's whole body visibly relaxes. As if on cue, his head shakes sporadically. Every time the twitch begins, he closes his eyes tightly. "There you go," Mark encourages him. "Feel better?"

"Yes," the schizoid answers between convulsions.

"Let's talk about... you call him Blurryface? Let's talk about Blurryface. Who is he to you?"

"He... I don't know. He was my best friend for a while... but I don't know anymore."

Mark takes another notation. "So over time... he changed?"

"I guess you could say that," Tyler says shyly.

"Can you tell me what makes it worse?"

"What do you mean?" the younger boy asks.

"Are there any modifying factors that can make him act meaner toward you?"

"Not really, no," Tyler says, allowing his head to spasm again. "I mean, when I don't listen to him, he gets mad, but that's about it."

Mark nods, his pen scribbling across his scrap paper. "Do you have any history of medical problems?"

"No - wait. I had chicken pox when I was 9," Tyler replies seriously.

The psychologist laughs aloud. "Okay, thanks. Any history of drug or alcohol abuse?"

"Nope."

Mark sighs a little, getting comfortable in his seat. "Tell me about yourself. What was school like? What do you like to do for fun?"

"School," Tyler starts, pausing as his head twitched around, "was always hard for me. Not the work, the work was easy... It was easy, the work. It was easy. The work was easy-"

"So what was so difficult about school?" Mark prompts, knocking Tyler out of his lapsed speech.

"Having to deal with other people. Rich, posh white kids that I wouldn't have ever met if my dad hadn't worked there. But my mom was a basketball coach at the rec center, she worked at the rec center. She was a coach for basketball at the rec center. She worked at the rec center-"

"Right," Mark coos softly, making a note. "Did you like going there?"

"Yes, it was my favorite place to be. I love basketball, and all of my real friends were from the rec center. I love that game, but I love music more. So when I met Chris and Nick, we started writing songs and stuff like that. But before we could really take off, I got a scholarship to Ohio State and my parents made me go. That's around the time I met J-" Tyler flinches heavily, almost as if he's been yelled at. "That's when Blurryface started talking to me."

Mark prints furiously onto his paper. "Does anyone in your family have a history of medical issues or drug or alcohol abuse?"

"My dad has ADHD." Mark's eyes flash at Tyler's statement. "Also, he had chicken pox when he was 12."

"Do you ever feel depressed? Maybe think about hurting yourself?"

Tyler shrugs. "Yeah, not so much the second part, but I can get pretty sad sometimes."

"Okay. So next, I'm gonna name some feelings and phenomena, and you're just gonna cut me off when I say something that applies to you. Sound good?" Tyler nods, then makes a choked off sound as his head shook. "Okay, here we go. Do you ever feel like there are things crawling on you? Like there are bugs under your skin? You ever feel like people are talking about you? Watching you? Talking about you? Do you ever think someone is trying to poison you? Kill you? Do you think that people can read your mind?" Tyler remains silent throughout the whole list. Mark raises an eyebrow skeptically. "None of those?"

"No," the neurotic boy replies. "None of those."

"...Okay." The man sighs deeply. "Okay," he repeats, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "Let's play a game, Tyler."

The boy's head snaps up, the sudden movement causing another short spam. "A game?"

Mark gives the younger man a small smile. "Yeah. Okay, so first, I'm gonna say some words, I want you to remember them. Can you do that?"

"What are the words?" Tyler asks, sitting up straighter and closing his eyes tightly as if to hypnotize himself into remembering the words. Jenna grins at the sight of him.

"Ready? They're 'sempiternal', 'infinite', 'regional', 'revenge', and 'collide'."

"Sempiternal, infinite, regional, revenge, collide," Tyler replies, finally opening his eyes. "Now what?"

"What's seven times seven?"

"Forty-nine," the schizoid replies easily.

"One hundred minus thirteen?"

Tyler closes one eye in thought. "Eighty-seven."

"Nine plus twelve?"

"Twenty-one. What does this have to do with the words?"

"Shh!" Mark hushes, a laugh bubbling from his lips. Jenna smiles. He's actually enjoying himself. "Thirty-six divided by two?"

"Eighteen."

Mark looks up from his notes at Tyler. "What were the words?"

Tyler closes his eyes to shut out distractions. "Sempiternal, infinite, regional, revenge, collide." He opens his eyes, a smile blooming on his face. Jenna had never seen him smile before. It was a ghastly sight; the look that was clearly meant to show happiness came out as more of a grimace. "Did I win?"

"You did. Good job," Mark answers him, taking a quick notation on his paper. "That's it! There's only one more thing. Have you ever had an MRI before?"

"No. Aren't those the big machines that your whole body goes in?"

"That's the one. You're gonna have an MRI, and then you can go back. We just have to wait for another doctor to come show us where the room is." Tyler nods. "Jenna, can you stay in here for a second? I'm gonna go find Alex."

Jenna nods as Mark steps out the room. She exhales, inwardly grateful that Mark hadn't asked her to go find the man. She doesn't think she can handle another run in with the insane inhabitants of Belle Reve Asylum, especially after what Mark had told her about their strange abilities. It's not like paranormals were unheard of; Superman's a household name. And Batman, the protector of Gotham, is someone that everyone knows of. But that's in Gotham. That city is crawling with crazy; from The Joker to Bane. But here in Columbus, Jenna didn't think she would ever have to worry about those kinds of people around. It turns out that she's wrong. She shudders down the thoughts as Mark and Alex reenter the room.

"Hey, man how's it going?" Alex asks Tyler, who instantly retreats into shy silence. "I'm Alex, I'm gonna take you to get your MRI done."

Tyler's eyes lock on Jenna's instantly. "Can you come too?" He asks, panic rising in his voice.

"Of course," Jenna says, not bothering to say that she wouldn't even think of being in this place without someone with her. She holds her hands out to him, and when he takes them, she helps pull him off the bed. "Don't be scared. It's okay. Are you ready?"

"Ready."