twisted // tyler seguin

sixty four

I got out of Jesse's car, my heart beating a mile a minute and my stomach feeling as if it was shriveling up. The late autumn sun was beaming down on the back of my neck a bit harder than usual. My knitted sweater was growing thicker with each step closer to the backdoor of Tyler's house. The papers that sentenced my sanity were slipping through my sweaty hands, yet as much as I wanted them to blow away in the wind, they stayed put in my grasp.

Tyler's suspicions were right all along; there was something wrong with me. Dr. Baker, the middle aged man who tended to me asked for two different perspectives of my personality as of recent. Jesse, who has only known me for roughly a day, had trouble relaying my personality to the doctor. Instead, he told him a brief description of me from Tyler's perspective. I told Dr. Baker how I've been feeling lately; lack of hunger and interest. Feeling as if I wasn't really there. He decided it would be best to screen me for an anxiety disorder. The next day, which was today, he gave us the results; and I showed many symptoms. Dr.Baker eventually diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder.

He didn't stop there though; he screened me for Bipolar disorder as well. Fortunately, I didn't have it. Unfortunately, I was showing minor signs of it. Dr. Bailey assumed that the signs of Bipolar disorder were stemming through untreated and intensifying anxiety within me. He ultimately prescribed me with Ativan, an anti-anxiety drug.

It was Tuesday, and Tyler beat us home from his road trip to Arizona. He called Jesse asking where we were, and he reassured him that we'd be home soon, and that we were simply "out".

I reached for the handle to the backdoor before stopping in my tracks. I could see Tyler standing in the kitchen, picking at unopened mail.

He's going to be ashamed of me, I thought.

"Jesse, I'm scared." I whipped my head around towards him, clutching the papers for support.

He gave me a cynical glance. "Scared of what, Savannah?"

"Tyler," I said glancing back at him. He hadn't noticed us talking outside yet. "I feel like he's going to be mad or something."

"Mad at you for what? Having anxiety?"

I shrugged quietly, looking down. My heart beat was pounding uncontrollably, and I felt silly.

Jesse flung the door open, allowing me to step in first. My head stayed down, papers still towards my chest. You would think I was never really upset over Tyler leaving the other night with the way I walked into the house. Tyler, however, made up for lost words.

"Hey Savannah," he beamed, walking towards me. For some reason, the sense of warmth I usually get with Tyler's hugs was missing as he squeezed me tight. I tried my hardest to fight back the tears in the back of my eyes for him. "How are you?" Tyler pulled away and looked me in my eyes.

"I'm fine." I said quietly. Tyler's eyebrows furrowed, and I knew the next question that was coming.

"You okay?"

I nodded, smiling. Tyler didn't return it, but the papers clutched tightly to my side caught his eye. He reached for them. "What is this?"

I yanked them out of his grasp and stared him in the eyes. "It's nothing."

Irritation appeared on his face. "It's obviously something if you're snatching it away." He reached again, and I shoved his tattooed arm away. "Sav, what the fu-"

"I took her to the doctors today, Tyler." Jesse chimed out from the back of us. He sat his car keys on the island counter, giving me a silent yet serious look.

"The doctors? For what?" Tyler looked at me confused. My stomach twisted and my heart skipped a beat.

"Her head." Jesse said. Tyler's confusion was instantly washed away.