𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 | 𝐋. 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍

𝐈.𝐈𝐈𝐈

❝𝑰𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒔. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕.❞
— 𝐎𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

꧁꧂

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY AREN'T AVAILABLE?" Valen questioned, mild exigency lining her words. "I don't understand. I had the consultation and everything."

Sitting behind a cluttered desk was one of the Scout Regiment's medics, who regarded her soberly through her cloudy, flimsy glasses. From the second she entered, Valen received the impression that she'd prefer doing anything but her job. "A moment, please."

Valen drummed her fingers on her lap. Days before when she'd first arrived at base, one of the first things she'd done was report the depletion of her medicine to the infirmary—it was only minutes ago when she'd finally been summoned. Coming in, she'd expected to hear good news.

And she was proved wrong.

While the medic sifted through the hodgepodge of parchment, pens, and other supplies, Valen entertained herself with the surroundings to divert her focus from the churning in her stomach. The space was equally as untidy as the desk, haphazard mounds of medical books—their conditions varying from worn to recently purchased—laying around, one located right beside one of the rear chair legs. Papers were strewn about the ground, and some parts of the floor were obscured entirely. The dust gathering on the towering, packed bookshelves teased at her nostrils, evoking an occasional sniffle, and she prayed the mold clinging to the ceiling was a figment of her imagination.

Walls, this place was dirty.

"Alright," the medic said, bringing Valen's thoughts back to the present. She was now reading from a folder, her eyes moving from behind her lenses. "Legally, everything's approved. Your prescription was renewed by Dr. Sauer weeks ago."

"Then...?"

The medic raised her pointer finger at her. "Just a minute." Valen repressed a groan. She understood she was likely tired and underpaid—Valen's own wage wasn't too impressive, either—but the anxiety ate at her. What in the world had happened to her sleeping pills? She started bouncing her right leg. It did nothing to minimize the nervousness billowing within her, but it was something.

"Oh." Valen's head snapped back to the woman. She frowned as she tapped her fingers against the desk and looked up at Valen. "I'm sorry, but there's been a complication."

"A complication?"

"Yes. I'm afraid we cannot cover the costs of your medication."

Valen's eyebrows knitted together. She was confused—very confused. In the two years she'd taken her pills, she'd never encountered a problem obtaining them. "Pardon?"