ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

αζ

αζ. nosocomephobia - fear of hospitals

Aza sat in an uncomfortable blue loveseat, opposite a dark wood desk. The room was uncomfortably bright, like she was being interrogated. The room looked like any standard office - desk, chair, cabinets, computer, curtains. Two windows. A yearly cat-themed calendar. Shitty inspirational posters.

Aza was back at the hospital, but for the first time, she wasn't afraid. She leaned back in the chair, resting comfortably and looked confidently up to the doctor - so different than the nine-year-old she once was, with daily visits.

"Dr. Green," Aza drawled. "Good to see you."

"Aza-Everett," Dr. Green - Michael Green - acknowledged. "It's time for your annual full review. Are you ready?"

"Of course, Dr. Green," Aza waved her arm towards him. "Let's hit it." She settled further into her chair, resting her left ankle atop her right knee. Dr. Green cleared his throat, looking down at the papers in front of him.

"Let's see, where shall we start. Ah, yes - are you still hallucinating? Any new ones? Any different patterns?"

Aza cleared her throat and shook her head, and she suddenly began to feel a lot less confident in herself. "No, Dr. Green, I don't hallucinate." She replied cooly. Gods, she had heard herself say that a million times. Dr. Green looked up at her and pursed his lips, scribbling on his paper - this happened every year. He asked if she was still hallucinating. She insisted she didn't. Dr. Green jots down in his notes to add yet another medication into the regiment.

"And your medications - Chlorpromazine, 100mg. Gabapentin, 300 mg thrice per day. And ah, yes, Risperidone, 25mg. Any new side-effects?"

"Yes," Aza said sharply, and her nerves turned to flaring anger. She was done with being pumped full of medications she didn't need, ones that dulled her senses and made her feel like a walking corpse. "With the medications you force down my throat? Of course there are! I am dizzy, I'm disoriented, I feel like I'm walking through a dream constantly! My mouth is dry like cotton, I have a constant headache - Hades, I had jaundice from the chlorpromazine. I won't take them anymore."

Dr. Green looked deeply disappointed in Aza. He sighed, shaking his head, and scribbled something else. He finally looked up at Aza, face stoic. "I think we are done with the review, it's clear what to do. Your Risperidone, we will now do 50mg. We will add Quetiapine, 300 mg daily, taken at night."

"No," Aza stood up, towering over the doctor. "I'm not taking that. I refuse."

Dr. Green sighed again, and scribbled something else down. He called outside, "Pete? Come in, please."

Oh, shit, Aza thought. She knew Pete could only mean one thing. The security guard opened the door, leaving his post from just outside in the hallway.

"I think Aza needs some time in solitary," Dr. Green spoke smoothly to Pete, who instantly latched on to Aza's bicep. "Two weeks."

"That can't be legal!" Aza protested, trying to pull herself away from Pete, who began dragging the girl towards the game. Aza's heart beat rapidly in her chest, and the roar of her thumping blood dulled her hearing- no, no, no, she couldn't be in solitary again, she didn't think she would make it. Two weeks, stuck in her thoughts, stuck in there, all alone, so alone.

Aza planted her feet on the carpet, grounding herself and stopping herself from being dragged outside. "No," Aza said quietly, but steadily.