Turn Scars to Stars [2]

SSRI

4 of 4 chapters posted from 3/21/18 -- don't miss out on the first three!

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Spaghetti was served in three giant bowls at the center of the simple wooden table. Not one chair was empty as the pack squished together to enjoy Emily's Italian goodness.

Paul and Quil were sent on patrol by Sam when he and Jared came inside from their run of the lands. Emily had just finished setting several plates of garlic bread and bowls of spaghetti across the center of the table, so Paul was not thrilled at the timing.

The hotheaded wolf boy grumbled angrily under his breath as he stood with a screech from his chair. He swiped a couple slices of garlic bread "for the road."

Mel promised him that she'd save him a Paul-sized portion in exchange for a ride to the store tomorrow. He agreed without hesitation, messed up her hair as he passed, and left behind Quil to patrol. Mel fixed the distressed strands of dark hair with a glare at her friend's broad, tanned back.

Without Paul as a distraction from her earlier swirl of emotions, Mel's leg began to bounce under the table. She fidgeted through the meal. Her eyes kept catching Seth's across the table and it made her self-conscious of every bite she took.

Melaina left the dinner table early by claiming that she wasn't feeling well. Her emotions were all over the place and her thoughts were jumbled.

The anxiety flowing through her veins made her arms tingly. She had nearly dropped her plate covered in sauce in her haste to throw it away and escape the room that had started to suffocate her from the start of the meal.

Her solution to most things was to sleep, but that didn't come easy when her stomach was doing flips and spins instead of settling down.

She waited and stared at the blank white ceiling and waited some more until no more chatter reached her ears.

Sam's monster snores finally reverberated through the small house. A light breeze caught the curtains through Mel's open window, causing the material to brush against the windowsill. Cicadas sang their sorrows into the night sky.

Though Mel's body wanted to reboot in a full cycle of sleep, she couldn't stop her mind or her emotions from taking off in a million directions.

There was one clear focus of her anxiety that night: Seth Clearwater.

Something was different about him. There was a light in him that called to her. From his bright eyes and contagious smile to his heart-warming laugh.

Throughout her first short hours of knowing him, Seth seemed easy-going and kind, but Mel knew not to assume the kind of person someone was so quickly.

She huffed out an aggravated breath of air and rolled off the twin bed onto her bare feet. Tugging on a faded hoodie and bright green fuzzy socks, Mel crept out of her room and managed to make her way to the kitchen without stepping on any creaky floorboards.

She glanced around like a spy for SHIELD to see if anyone was left wandering around at this hour. She caught a glimpse of tanned legs thrown over the arm of the couch, but Paul was out cold after his patrol. His container of leftovers was scraped clean and lay abandoned on the coffee table.

Mel silently pulled herself onto the granite countertop to reach a middle shelf in the cabinet. She sifted through various vitamins and medicines to find the familiar orange bottle. She poured three little green pills into the palm of her hand before putting everything back where it belonged.

Melaina had already taken her daily dose after dinner, but she was on the verge of a meltdown.

Her heart beat in her fingers. Her heart beat in her toes. Her body was thrumming with pre-anxiety-attack blood flow.

Thinking only of the positive consequences, Mel let the SSRI drug take its course. Soon enough, her true emotions were shoved back into a temporary drawer and covered by a hazy curtain.

Now, she only felt faux calm in place of anxiety; a light buzz filled her head and steadied her hands. The medicine inhibited the reuptake of serotonin in her brain, effectively keeping the chemical against anxiety available by blocking it from being sent away with other neurotransmitters.

Mel stumbled down from the counter and scurried into the half-bath off the kitchen when she heard footsteps from the living room.

She blinked lazily in the bright bathroom lights and tried to focus on her reflection in the mirror. A girl like her didn't deserve a boy like Seth. She knew it, and he was bound to know it soon enough.

~*~

"Mel?"

A series of knocks followed Paul's voice through the thin oak door. When she didn't respond, he rattled the door handle.

"I know you're in there," Paul said with more thumps of his fist against the door. "Your scent isn't hard to identify. Are you okay?"

Mel sat on the toilet lid with her face in her hands. Her head was throbbing worse than before. At least her body was calm. She felt like a ghost; her limbs were light and her body was floating.

"I'm good. I'm great." Her voice was breathy and slow.

"Great, so could you hurry it up in there? I have to pee."

Mel went through the motions to alleviate any suspicion. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands before opening the bathroom door. Paul was practically dancing around as he waited impatiently for his turn.

"Took you long enough." Paul raced by her, nearly pummeling her small frame, and didn't even fully close the door before he was sighing in relief.

Mel could have avoided being caught if she remembered that she needed to return to her room before Paul came back out. But she lost focus and remained standing in the kitchen with blank eyes.

Drying his hands on his low-riding sweat pants, Paul exited the bathroom and raised his eyebrows at the frozen girl. "Did you fall asleep standing up?" he joked.

Slowly, Mel refocused her grey-green eyes on the window in front of her. The sky was pitch black and only a light post out front lit the area. "No," Mel responded with no hint of emotion. "I am tired though. I should sleep. Night." She turned to avoid his gaze, but Paul caught her arm with a warm hand.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay? You sound... off." Their eyes met in a passing moment, and Paul swore. "What the fuck are you on?"

Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated. The overdose of prescribed medicine was not only affecting her body inside, but outside as well.

"Sit," Paul ordered, shoving her down onto a kitchen chair. "I'm getting Sam."

The words registered in her brain after a beat. "No!" She shouted, then lowered her voice to a reasonable volume. "Please, don't get Sam. I'm sorry. Please, don't tell on me."

"Melaina, this is serious. You can't go messing around with drugs. What was it?" Paul said seriously. "What did you take?"

"It was just my meds," Mel said carefully. "Three pills, like every night." Her fingers twitched, and Paul's eyes honed in on the movement.

"How many times did you take 'three pills'?" he demanded.

"I was overwhelmed, and I took a few more than I was supposed to. I've done it before; I'll be fine. Please, let it go," she begged him. "Please, Paul."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply through his mouth. "I won't wake Sam," he said finally, "if you swear this will never happen again. You could have died."

"Alright, it won't happen again." Mel stood quickly, which caused her to become light-headed. She tried to nonchalantly balance herself on the back of the chair. "I'll just sleep it off. It will help me sleep."

Paul couldn't guarantee that the pack wouldn't see what happened in his thoughts when they shifted for patrol, but he let her go without alerting Sam for the time being. He really hoped that he wouldn't come to regret that decision.

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Four new chapters because you deserve it for waiting so long. I'm too much of a perfectionist.