Three's Company

45. Voices

"You haven't been taking your medication. Why?"

The trusted therapist stared at him in genuine disappointment causing a chuckle to flee from him. It was a tad dramatic for his liking. He wanted to be stunned that Mary could guess so on point, but then he remembered that she had known him since he was a preteen. She knew him better than he wanted to believe.

He shrugged carelessly. "I don't need it."

"Why?" Repeating the same question he had purposely answered vaguely, he took a look around the standard office in sheer boredom.

"Why. I don't know why maybe because it makes me feel like I'm a shell of a person." He licked his dry lips, looking at her again. She was writing in her little notepad again, just like always.

"What about all the positives that came from you being on medication?" Her calming voice sounding, she began listing the pro's. "Like feeling less depressed, anxious. Your eating habits were better, you didn't feel the need to purge."

He cut her off, not wanting to hear it. "My eating is fine. I've gained more muscle in the last few months than I've ever been able to since I've been going to the gym."

She stopped writing, putting her hands down on the desk. "Oh yes, about that. I can quite obviously see the change in your physical appearance, and despite looking well, I'm worried that you're not doing it in a healthy way."

"Right, of course you don't. You gonna report me now? How else do you want me to deal with shit, Mar? You want me to eat a shit ton of junk and turn to alcohol? Working out is a good medium, you were the one who suggested it as a way to release."

"I said in moderation. Everything is fine in moderation, Heath."

He poked his tongue against the side of his mouth, unable to help the scoff from leaving. "I can assure you, I'm fine. No suicidal thoughts anymore, so you can relax. You've done your job well, you don't have to mark this down as anything other than a progress conversation."

Suicidal thoughts.

Her ears rang at the mention of those two words and her face hardened. "And are you having these kinds of thoughts?"

Oh, great. He held back a groan, knowing he had fucked it.

Instead of beating around the bush since he knew she would eventually get it out of him, he shrugged yet again. "Didn't I just say I was in the clear? The thoughts are nothing out of the ordinary."

"Heath, you know that if you were having suicidal thoughts again then you would have to tell me so that I can offer you some help."

Mary was giving him that annoying look she gave when she would start psychoanalysing him and he held back a frustrated groan. "No suicidal thoughts, Mary. I'm just depressed, but that's nothing new."

Her face softened. "Oh. You still haven't spoken to Mona?"

"No." At the mention of her, he became tense. Suddenly, he was sitting up straighter and his gaze was focused. "No, I told you it's done for good. Why would I speak to her?"

"Because the first step to you getting better is being able, to be honest. I understand you would like her to live without you, but Heath, you're killing yourself keeping this to yourself. Don't you think she deserves your honesty?"

He shook his head firmly.

There was another brief silence.

"Okay, that's fine. If you would like to continue without your meds and refuse to take my help, then I'll have no choice but to refer you to someone else."