This is a spin-off of several works I have completed or are currently underway.
This series of short stories will follow a few of my characters through the rehabilitation process until they have their moment of clarity.
Some issues dealt with in thi...
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trigger warning: throwing up
My eyes fixated on the ceiling as I dropped my shirt to the ground.
"Can we make this quick?" I asked.
"There are five electrodes," Dr. Rivera said. "Did you shower this morning? Remember these can't get wet, and you'll be wearing them for the next 48 hours."
I glanced down toward her. "I know I'm not good at the whole taking care of myself thing, but I do tend to shower."
"That I'm glad to hear."
She held up the first electrode. "Ready?"
My gaze fell back on the ceiling.
"So I just want to you to go about your day-to-day activities today with this on," Dr. Rivera said, as she placed the electrodes on my chest. "And once we have the results, we might get some better understanding of what's happening inside."
"Understood."
Nothing she was saying mattered to me right now. All I could focus on was the fact that I was being forced to stand half-naked for a prolonged period of time.
Give me my shirt back so I can calm my anxiety.
"Your heart rate is skyrocketing," Dr. Rivera said.
"I'm aware."
She didn't make anymore comments as she finished attaching the electrodes to my chest.
"We're having our group therapy session this morning," Dr. Rivera said. "This will be your first meeting."
"Again, I'm aware."
It wasn't my intention to have a short attitude. I just needed to get out of this room.
"See you after breakfast."
I hastily pulled back on my shirt before leaving Dr. Rivera's office. Using the word office lightly, as it was just a dedicated room inside of the house for Dr. Rivera to meet with patients.
This morning I had to put together my own breakfast, using my meal exchanges.
Yogurt. Granola. An orange. And a glass of milk.
I took a seat, swishing my milk around as Charlotte chattered on about her dream last night. Something involving a rattle snake and a talking panda.
Alex was the last to sit, a scowl etched across his face as he clutched a water bottle in hand.
If I close my eyes, I could picture that I'm anywhere but here. Anywhere but sitting in this wooden chair, my stomach bloated and my head full of racing thoughts.
Always racing thoughts.
Ms. Wiley placed a blue drink down in front of me. "A probiotic," she said, quietly.
