Dahlia - The Velvet Witch and Her Dark Spirit

PART 16 - MEDS

"Can you pour me a glass of water?" Dahlia asks as she roots around in her handbag.

She mumbles something else, but it's too quiet to hear.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing," she says without looking up.

"No, what did you say?"

"I said I hate this shit. Why can't it all be over already."

Dahlia is clearly agitated, though I don't know why, as all she's done since waking up is sit by the window in her underwear and stare out at nothing. In that same time, I've made two percolators of coffee, painted a little, emailed a buyer, got dressed and called an acquaintance to arrange some weed.

"You right? You seem off?"

"I forgot to take my medication yesterday, and I've run out of another script, so it'll be two fucking days before I get back to normal," she says as she rummages through her bag.

"What kind of medication do you take?"

"I take everything. Can you still come to Covent Garden?" she asks in a demanding kind of way.

"I'm free all day," I say with a fat smile, but the warm affection doesn't wash. "Are you sure you're OK? You seem worried."

"I always get moody before seeing the Doctor."

"Oh, that's what's in Covent Garden? Your Doctor?"

"Yes," she grunts.

"Are you worried about what he might tell you?"

"Pardon?"

But she isn't listening, and her eyes are full of frustration. They flare then flicker red. She gets up then with a steaming bellow, hurls the bag across the room. It thuds against the wall sending the contents everywhere.

"What the fuck, Dahlia?" I ask, only just getting out of the way of the leather missile.

"Stupid bag," she mumbles.

The red eyes fade as she wanders back to the couch. She curls her knees into her chest and starts to cry. I'm at a complete loss. I sheepishly sit by her side.

"What's going on? Are you expecting bad results?"

"No. It's nothing," she sobs.

"Your handbag might disagree with you on that."

She remains silent as she watches the city below.

"Dahlia, talk to me. I might be able to help."

"I already told you, I just don't want to see him," she says, firing each word at me.

But I push on.

"The Doctor? But why?"

"He's going to want to know about you. And now I can't find the pills I need to get through an hour of his bullshit."

"What pills?" I ask as I get up to look for them. "Ah, here they are," I say as I find a yellow box of tablets.

She glances over briefly.

"That's not them."

I slip them into her bag before coming across a pill bottle.

"What about these?"

She glimpses again but shakes her head with a guilty look. When I find the third set of tablets half wedged under the fridge, I wonder what on Earth is going on.

"There's half a chemist in here. Are these genuine prescriptions?"

But I can already tell they are as they're all stamped with her full legal name. The problem is I don't know enough about these sorts of drugs to know what they are.