PANIC ROOM ━━━ the scorch trials

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ━━━ ❛ 𝔦 𝔤𝔬𝔱 𝔞 𝔨𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢. ❜

[ TRANSLATIONS IN COMMENTS OF PARAGRAPHS/END OF CHAPTER ]

𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

━━━ Ares was pretty sure that the end of the world constituted the disruption of pharmaceutical production, specifically for any sort of low level antidepressant. He would think that with the country being in completely shambles—as evident by the zombie creatures taking over the outside world—and struggling to find a cure to the most infectious disease to date would mean halting the research for any other types of medication. If it's not the Flare, how important could it be? Plus, everyone must be depressed living in a world like this, so there's no point in antidepressants anymore, really. This if the new normal, after all.

Yet here he stands, corrected.

A pill bottle was placed on the table in front of him, his dark eyes staring at it intensely. Starnes was looking at him, her nails tapping on the wooden clipboard in her lap, a pen between the fingers of her other hand. Ares looked up at her, raising an eyebrow as he studied the woman's icy eyes.

"You're giving pills to a suicidal person. Something tells me that's not a smart move." His throat burned as he spoke, raw from lack of use and the embarrassing amount of crying he'd done the night before. Fortunately, he'd done it silently, with his body lurching with violent sobs that got caught in his throat. He was sure no one had heard him, and if they'd seen him they'd probably assumed he was trying not to throw up or shivering from the cold instead, which wasn't particularly great, but was preferable to everyone knowing he was breaking down at two in the morning. Either way, his voice was raspy and had an underlying darkness to it. He quickly cleared his throat.

"Your friends asked me about a treatment option. They're worried about you." Starnes spoke sharply, all business today, her eyes narrowing on the teenage boy's face. "They said you haven't been getting any better, acting any differently. They mentioned an. . . outburst at dinner yesterday." She elaborated.

"They told you to give me drugs?"

"They told me to give you medication, Ares," the doctor corrected. "Antidepressants are used to calm the mind in states of anxiety or distress."

Ares was well aware of what antidepressants were—he wasn't a moron—but he didn't tell the woman that. He was getting tired of her talking down to him, but he wanted to get out of that room as fast as possible. The brunet stared at the doctor, the two of them unblinking as if it was a contest and the loser would get their way. There was no way Ares was taking those pills.

"I don't need them." He asserted.

"You do." She decided. "Take them once a day, either at dinner or with breakfast. Without food they could give you nausea. If that happens, come see me and we'll figure it out."

Her voice left no room for argument, and Starnes practically ignored any glares of annoyance from him in favor of scribbling some notes. Ares had no idea what she spent all her time scribbling notes for. He was pretty sure if he looked at her pad, all he'd see was drawings of rabbits and butterflies, because he never given her any information that was note worthy.