"So...uh, which one do you want to see?" Shawn asks as he side-eyes me expectantly.

I blink, realizing then that I've zoned out as I stifle a yawn. I could feel that my new medication had gone to work this morning, colors and sounds blurring together. I slogged through studying for my classes in the library before I booked a taxi and headed over here for a movie with Shawn.

A few other people are milling about in the entryway to the Liberty Tree Mall theater, but their presence doesn't bother me as I ignore them. The only thing I do notice is that I'm hyperaware of Shawn's presence. We're standing an awkward distance apart, not quite close enough to be considered a couple. But not too far away to be seen as strangers.

I stub the toe of my tennis shoe against the tiled floor beneath me. I squint up at the electronic board that has movies and times lit up on it in amber letters and numbers. A tired looking cashier around my age uninterestedly picks at her fingernails on the other side of the glass wall of her booth as she waits for us to make a decision.

"I think that new comedy, 'It Happens' would be good to watch," I suggest.

The only alternative within the next hour is a horror movie that I don't care to see, not with my current nightmares.

"Sounds good," he murmurs as he pulls out his wallet.

"Oh, I can pay for mine," I assure him in a low voice as I pull out my own.

"No, I insist," Shawn interrupts as he steps up to the booth, "we need two tickets for the comedy movie showing at four thirty." 

"That'll be twenty two thirty two," the cashier reads off.

I resist the urge to frown as Shawn swipes his credit card on the reader. The tickets print out and the cashier tears them off and passes them to us. Shawn then walks to the glass doors for the lobby and opens one for me.

I thank him and step through into the black and white tiled lobby. The walls are painted an outrageous shade of mustard yellow while white support pillars hold up the vaulted ceiling. Rings of pink neon lights are wrapped around the tops of the pillars, giving it a vintage 80s appeal. 

Shawn breaks away from me suddenly and grins over his shoulder. He motions for me to follow him over to the concessions hub.

"Come on, I'm buying," he offers.

"But-, but you already paid for our tickets!" I sputter. 

He shrugs at this, "So?" 

The thought of food right now isn't the most appealing, my stomach already twisted with anxiety during the ride over here. But I follow him over anyways and join him in line behind a few people. The buttery scent of popcorn fills the lobby as a machine pops in the background, the hollow noise soothing me. I dare to stand another inch closer to Shawn.

He's not a tall boy and it makes me all the more anxious that we're nearly eye-level with each other. He turns to look at me and I instinctively draw in a quick breath. His eyes are liquid amber as they shimmer under the overhead lights, several pools of darker brown spots gleaming like ink blots in his irises. I can just catch a whiff of juniper, the scent clean and fresh but not overpowering as I take a moment to appreciate it. His eyes wrinkle at the edges as I look away.

"Kara?"

"Hm?" 

I glance up to see that he's watching me, his right eye squinting slightly. I notice that there's a tiny freckle on his eyelid and above that, a faint white scar.

"Did you want a medium or large popcorn?" he asks.

Heat rushes to my face when I realize that we're standing in front of the cash register, an employee for the theater watching me expectantly. I swallow once as I fear that my voice will crack before I speak.

"Uh, I'll share with you," I assure him and he nods.

"Do you want a soda?"

"I'll take a medium," I tell him. 

"Okay," he says and turns to the cashier to list off his order as I stare down at my hands.

He is pretty cute. 

I rub my thumb over a knuckle as I steady my breathing. A cup is suddenly pushed into my hand, the design on the outside modeled to advertise one of the newer blockbuster movies that is showing at a later time. I had seen a few trailers for it but hadn't been interested in watching it. 

I look up to see that Shawn is balancing a bucket of popcorn along with his own cup in his hands as he grins at me.

"Let's go get drinks and then we can pick out our seats," he suggests.

****

Once we get our drinks and get seated it doesn't take long for the lights to go off as the movie starts to play. My anxiety is stifled for the first half of the movie. I had noticed that the theater is relatively full yet I feel mostly calm. 

You're doing fine, I assure myself. Though I know I'm inching ever closer to when I need to take my medication.

I try to keep my eyes trained on the screen and not focus on the fact that Shawn is close to me. The threat of a possible anxiety attack makes me all the more nervous. The last thing I want right now is to black out in the middle of a movie when I'm so close to a possibly normal night.

This is going really well. 

The tiny purse I had brought along with me is a comforting presence. The small, yellow pill inside holding relief that is just out of reach.

At last, I get up and head for the bathroom, Shawn offering a brief and muffled question. I shake my head and take my drink with me.

"I'll be back," I promise him in a hushed whisper before I hurry down the stairs.

I squint at the bright light in the hallway outside of the theater. I dart into the bathroom that is just down the hall, the door shushing behind me. I walk for a long, marble counter that has an enormous mirror mounted over it. 

My eyes are itching furiously but I resist the urge to wipe off the eyeliner I had so painstakingly applied. I grab a paper towel and blot at the corners to fix it before I reapply my lipstain and sneak my pill out of my purse. I check to make sure that no one else is around.

I've only ever felt shame if someone sees me taking my medication; even though for all they know it's a Tylenol.

There's nothing to be ashamed of, you're healing, you wouldn't walk on a broken leg would you? 

I take one of Mrs. Nox's bits of advice in stride, as she had told me that mental illness was the same way. You have to fix it instead of ignoring it and hoping it gets better on its own.

I put the pill in my mouth and swallow as I take a sip of my watered down soda and rest my palms on the edge of the counter. I mindlessly study the whorls on the surface of the stone counter. I trace a few of the swirls as I wait for the pill to go down. The shades of grays and blacks intermingling on the marble looks like ink stains as I stare at them intently.

After a couple of minutes I prepare to leave as I glance in the mirror. I see a brief flicker of what looks like a person ducking down the row of stalls behind me.

"Hello?" I dare to call out as I spin on my heel.

My heart is abruptly stuck in my throat. I take a breath and swallow a couple of times as I prepare to speak. The lingering taste of the pill still hovering on my tongue but nothing moves. The lights flicker then and I turn to leave the bathroom. But between the flickering, I can see that there's something on the mirror.

I pause just long enough to make out the distinct words of 'Find her Killer' scrawled across the mirrors in black ink. I turn and look away, fighting the urge to bolt out of the bathroom. I calmly leave the bathroom and start back towards the theater.

It's real, you know that it's real.

I think the words over and over to myself as I duck inside and head for my seat. Shawn glances up as I approach, a relieved smile tilting across his face as I get settled beside him.

"Hey, you missed the good part," he says in a teasing tone as the blood rushes to my face.

"Sorry," I murmur and he shrugs.

"It's okay, did you want any of this popcorn? You haven't touched it yet," he tells me as he offers the tub to me.

I thank him and take a handful of the popcorn as I nibble on a couple of pieces even though I still feel puzzled. 

Finn is still here and he wants you to help him, I realize quietly. My medication should have blocked most any illusions, along with the ring on my finger which has yet to burn me. 

Which means that what I saw was real.

Though I can only wonder how I would be able to help him, since I've managed to make myself out to be a PTSD riddled teen who is a step away from being forced into a psych ward.

I'd have to come up with a plan, and soon.