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That night, his yelling was so loud and persistent that the cats were afraid to leave my side. That's when I realized something was wrong, but I had no idea what to do about it. I stayed the night, bracing myself every time I heard him pace past my door.I woke up to the doorbell. It was a man and woman who said that they were with the Amtsartzt—a German version of social services—and that they were there to see my roommate. They wanted to inspect the house, which had turned into a wasteland overnight. The neighbors had apparently called in to report his psychotic episode.When I went to look for him, he was gone. The social workers left, asking me to call if he reappeared.Shortly afterward, another visitor appeared: his ex-girlfriend. She told me she had brought the cats over earlier to calm him down, and was now here to take him to a hospital. He'd probably be away for a month or two. We waited together until he finally came home and calmly left with her.There was an attempt at homemade wet cat food in the blender, consisting of vitamin C tablets, cat treats, and the goldfish from the bathtub.
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Related: Watch 'The Story of Maisie,' our documentary about severe mental illness
Over the next couple of weeks, his ex dropped by to grab hygiene products and his current girlfriend came over to bring some clothes and books. The current girlfriend was your average Berlin club girl—undercut, septum piercing, and bumbag full of fun pills. During the breakdown, she had been unavailable due to the fact that she was partying for four days straight.My heart dropped every time one of them opened the door, scared that he had come home early. The current girlfriend had become a little too comfortable with the apartment keys and tried to bring guys home from clubs on the weekends.
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