My Wolves Can't Help Me Now

Chapter Eleven

North's perspective

I always knew it was him that bathed my poor Jeep in pink and glitter. And all things barbie sitting in the backseats. I winced in pain from that memory. I could not get the barbie theme song to stop playing on my radio for weeks and I knew it had to have been Victor who had helped with that one. The jangle of the keys remind me that I have somewhere to be. The motorcycle's engine roars to life and off I go to the doctor for yet another appointment that Mr. B insisted I attend when there really is no point. Nothing can save me now. I do it though. I am there for every single one for him and the rest of my brothers.
When I arrived at the hospital it all comes crashing at me all at once. The smell, the dying souls, the impersonal decorations, the gloom that holds this wing together. Oh, how I hate this place. I trudge to the receptionist's desk and sign in. Now all I do is wait.  

"North? North Taylor," I sit up straighter at the voice and make to get up. 

"How are you doing today, Mr. Taylor?" The kind looking nurse asked.

"Fine," I mumbled. She smiles before walking down the hall and leading me to room eleven. 

"The doctor will be with you shortly," she said.

"Thank you." With that she leaves the room. Staring at the wall of the doctor's office in town is very boring in the sense that there is very little of interest hanging on the wall and the fact that I have visited this exact room countless times before, it's starting to get old. A knock echoes.

"Come in," I said. The door swings open to reveal a middle aged woman wearing a doctor's coat. 

"Hello Dr. Amy," I greet her.

"Hello North," she returns the tidings. Sitting at her chair she settles some papers onto her lap and stares at me expectantly. Seeing as I'm unwilling to cooperate she looks into my file.

"Why haven't you come in sooner?" She asks in concern. I shrug my shoulders.

"There's no point," I said. Her mouth tugs down in a frown.

"Yes, there is. I can name thirteen of them right now if you'd like," she snaps. We have had this conversation before and it always ends the same.
"I am disappointed in you North." And there it is. Now normally, coming from a doctor it would not mean much, but from the only Aunt I have ever known it means a lot.

"I'm leaving." I said, almost to the door.

"Oh, no you are not." She stands at the door blocking my way.

"Move," I said.

"Make me," she counters. She knows I cannot. I sigh and drag my feet over to a stool.

"Now," she starts the interrogation, "what happened this time?" I bit my cheek as I thought about how to tell her I became as capable as an amnesia patient. 

"I forgot who I was for a second," might as well rip the band aid off, "and Mr. B found me wandering the house," I finished. I had turned away from her at one point and at the feeling of her hand on my arm I go tense.

"Anything else I need to know?" She asked.

"No." She already knows everything.

"Okay, I'm going to prescribe you something to help manage the symptoms should something like that happen again and then I will call Owen to come pick you up." She stated. I go to argue with her saying I am not an invalid, but her grip on my arm silences me.

"I will not have you driving. Period." I hung my head.

"Okay." She still has that concerned look on her face as she waves me and Mr. B off.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"The same as last time. A new prescription to manage my 'episodes.'" I said. He keeps his face blank at the news and continues to drive. 

Once the silence becomes overbearing he mutters, "it will get better."

Not without them. "They would move if you asked them," he doesn't stop.

"I know," I said. 

"So do it," his knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel. 

"No." Is all I have to say. He does not ask why.