Warning(s): swearing, therapy, mention of drug abuse, mention of antidepressants, smut, rogllow
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"𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭"
"𝐒𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 been?" my therapist, Max asks me. "You know, with your life and all." I shrug, "It's been a rocky road; when it gets good, it went downhill again, I can't bloody win." "How'd you mean?" he questions. "Like, as a band, we're finally being recognised by the music business, fucking EMI! And I was so excited to tell my mum about it, but then when I got to her house I found my dad there, my real dad who I haven't seen in 20 years." I rant. "He left when you were two if I recall you telling me." he nods. "Yeah." I whisper.
"I'm assuming it didn't go down well." he guesses. "Not in the slightest." I deny. "I had a heated argument with my mum and d- Peter and walked out." "Then what did you do?" he interrogates. "I-" I pause trying to consider my next words. "I went to The White Hart, ordered my first drink, which was the most alcoholic they had and then was offered drugs... I happily took them." "Who gave you them, cupcake?" he questions softly. "A girl called Madelyn, I met her a few years ago at a Halloween party and she was flirting with Roger, then on mother's day we all went out with our mum's to Rules and she was a waitress there, it feels like she's everywhere I am."
"Do you think she's trying to achieve something with you or Roger?" he frowns. "I don't know." I sigh. "My head's been everywhere this past week. Roger's been doing everything in his power to keep my spirits high, and it works, but then when it all stops, so does my happiness. I can't sleep without having at least one tear escape my eye and he doesn't know I do that... sorry I shouldn't have said that." "No, cupcake, this is a safe room, nothing in here will ever leave these four walls, unless I really do need to log it." "Do you need to log my substance abuse?" I gingerly ask. He sighs, "I do, but it's compulsory that I do that, for your health and to help you become your better self."
I nod sadly. "Willow, if things like this carry on, I might need to up your dosage of Amitriptyline, you could be looking at a serious case of depression." I look down at my lap and feel my overwhelming emotions overtake me, but I didn't let them, not with my therapist who takes in every action I have. "Okay." I deadpan. "Maybe 100ml, there is a dosage of 150ml but that is just way too fucking strong- pardon the French." "Don't worry about it." I smile. "What were your plans for the week?" he asks me. "Roger was thinking of going to Brighton for a day or something, I think I'd like it, getting out of London for a little while." I reply. "That's fabulous, cupcake!" he quips. "What were you planning on doing there, the weather's nice by all the counts."
