Page 28 of Stitches

“I don’t have anxiety.”

“You do, Malachi. When you start accepting you have issues, we can begin to see the light at the end of a very dark tunnel.” She typed into her laptop for a moment before looking up and smiling at me. “All set. Stop at the front desk on your way out and pick it up. I want you to take it twice a day. It’s going to help you sleep.”

“What is it?” Sleeping was always a good thing.

“It’s a new experimental drug that’s showing a lot of promise—”

“Fine. I’ll take it.”

She smiled at me. “Perfect. We can call today a success. I’ll see you next week. Same time. Start taking the medicine as soon as you get it, OK? We should start to see some changes by next week.

“Whatever.” I pushed out of my seat and left the room without looking back. The therapy at this place was a fucking joke. On my way out, I stopped at the desk, grabbed the meds that were waiting for me, and left.

Instead of going home, I pulled my leather jacket tighter around my body and walked toward the lake.

The cool air felt good on my skin after the shit show I just broke free from. I needed to feel the relief. Being locked in a fucking room with someone who wouldn’t stop talking had been wearing heavily on me. I’d like to think it was just something with me hating authority, but deep down I knew it was the lock on the door.

I hated feeling trapped.

It reminded me of the shit I couldn’t get out of my head. The way it felt for the hands to be on my body. The mouths. Lips. Tongues. Other. . . things.

I shook my head.

I didn’t even know if it was real. With no idea if it was all a hallucination in the facility or not, all I could do was torment myself with the knowledge that at least in my mind it had happened. It had been real.

And I knew for a fact angel had suffered it.

I bent down and threw a rock into the lake, the pain I felt in my chest at her hurting, building within me. All I wanted to do was hold her, but the guilt was keeping me from going to her. For a guy who said he’d protect her, I was a big failure.

Now that the dust had settled, here I was, a piece of shit.

I sank to my ass on the beach and watched the waves lap at the shore until the sun set, the sky deepening to shades of pink and purple. Lying back, I stared up at the incoming night sky, the wind chilly against my skin and the gentle sound of lapping waves filling my ears.

It did nothing to quell the turmoil twisting inside me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pills and stared at them as I held them above my face.

I hated taking meds but fuck it. I needed relief.

Quickly, I uncapped the bottle and let one of the tiny white pills fall into my hand. After closing the bottle, I popped the small pill into my mouth and swallowed it dry, waiting and praying that relief would come.

A breath left me. Another. Deeper. Deeper. I felt like I was falling fast, my heart racing. My eyelids fluttered.

And then. . . calm.

I blinked up at the stars in confusion.

I had to have fallen asleep. Or passed out.

My body felt heavy, my tongue fuzzy, and my head foggy.

I breathed out. In. Out.

My thoughts were muddled.

Why was I even upset?

I had no idea, even though I felt it lurking in the deep recesses of my mind.

---