Terrible Fates (BEN Drowned story)

Chapter 19

[LOL here's the actual chapter 19.

This will be the only update for this week, sorry :(

Hope you enjoy it though...!]

Stay Creepy, My Friends!~

Chapter 19

Reese's POV

A few days later, in the middle of the week, Mom was able to book an appointment for a psychological evaluation at a Wriamont Psychiatric Clinic. Outside, the building had looked warm and somewhat inviting, but stepping in and seeing mostly blues and whites had unsettled me (even though I was supposed to feel relaxed). Since I had the appointment, I was taken to get evaluated immediately after Mom signed in at the front desk.

The clinic had been oddly quiet and walking through the white tiled and sky blue walled halls was almost unreal. Everything about the place just hadn't sat well with me, from the way footsteps echoed too loud to the lighting everywhere I went. Hunter's previous doctor for when he had to take medication was my doctor, and I wondered if the older man ever thought that it was about time I came back.

When I was younger, during the initial four years after my dad had gone to prison and my family and I began a new life, I had to see a psychiatrist a few times. Since my therapy hadn't worked, people recommended I take medication. That didn't work out. For one, pills never seemed to take much affect, and secondly, I just never wanted to take medication. I can still remember those times when Mom tried to coerce me into taking my medicine, saying it would make me feel better. Even with gentle persuasion, I wouldn't take pills. Eventually, I gained a better grip on myself and didn't have to take medication anymore, despite that my relapses became irregular.

So I did the evaluation, which was mostly answering my doctor's many questions with honesty. I was also weighed, had my height measured, my blood pressure taken--the basic medical check-up, but the questions were what was most important. With all of the honesty in the world, I answered all inquiries and my doctor jotted down notes. The evaluation went by quicker than I thought, and I was back in the clinic's lobby with Mom and Hunter in no time. Mom and my doctor talked briefly and he assured he would have a diagnosis after a few more days. After that, we left and I was back to sitting in the back of Mom's car, listening to my music and staring out the window.

The day before the evaluation, a CPS agent ended up dropping by for a bit. He seemed like a cool guy, young and eloquently spoken. Mom was interrogated, as was Hunter and I. After finishing up his list of questions and doing a sweep of the apartment, he deemed the environment stable and left just as quick as he showed up. That's CPS for you.

Meanwhile, as all of this is happening, I'm still going to school, minding my own business and doing all of my work like a normal kid. People still talk about me, about how I got into that fight with crooked-nose Bryce and how I yelled at my counselor like a madman. I don't let any of the gossip affect me. I'm a senior; it's my last year so there's no point in giving a shit about everyone else. And if my graduating class encounters me after school has ended, I still won't care. I don't intend to become some criminal that they should worry about and will end up chatting about later in their lives. Unlike some people, I'm smart enough to not be that much of a dumbass.

Days after my evaluation, just as my psychiatrist promised, he had a diagnosis and I was prescribed Zoloft, a sertraline medication to treat my anxiety, depression, and PTSD. After that was settled, Mom received the prescription from the pharmacy and so my treatment began.

One pill in the morning--25mg. Cup of water. I can't miss a dose. If I do, "bad things" happen (not really, I just miss my dose and my entire schedule for the one medicine bottle gets screwed up). I get into the rhythm of it after a day: take a pill before breakfast, drink some water. Eventually I'm supposed to take 50mg, but that's not for a while. So far, there haven't been immediate effects, but I am gradually becoming more sedated. That's good, I guess. That means the pills are working and I can be less of a rabid animal.