For Their Amusement (FNAF)

Chapter 5 - Two Days Left

Proceed with caution: this chapter contains some talk of self harm and suicide. If you feel you are not in the right headspace to read about a potentially triggering topic, please do not risk your safety.

"I'll pick you up in an hour," Michael told me. I knew that already, that was usually how this went. Today was Wednesday, the day Michael picked me up from school and immediately took me to the psychiatrist. He was dropping me off for my therapy session. We were in the waiting room, but my time had arrived to go in.

"Okay," I said, and I sheepishly opened the door to Dr. Hudson's office before he could get all tear-jerky.

When I walked in, Dr. Hudson greeted me. "Gregory, great to see you," he said on the other side of his desk.

Dr. Hudson had a short and slim build. His hair was graying and he let it run wild, and he always wore random and colorful ties with his dress shirt. He was accidentally funny, trying to connect with "the youth" using slang improperly and trying to impress me with his knowledge of the youth culture. But when we talked about serious things, he'd drop his silly act and talk to me professionally, ensuring that I understood what he was preaching. He was cool, but not in the sense of actually being cool. He was cool because was kind, and honestly, that was all I needed to be impressed.

The room itself had this big window to the side that the sunlight beamed through. The far end was his desk, and in the center was a small table. On one side was a couch with nice cushion pillows, and on the other was an armchair that Dr. Hudson usually sat in while we played games if we didn't have much to talk about.

"Hi, Hudson," I greeted him. He told me to refer to him as just Hudson, hoping it'd make it easier to grow a connection between us. I sat down on my usual spot in the middle of the couch.

"Before we begin, is there anything you wanna discuss first?" he asked.

I have nightmares almost every night, I think I see things when I'm anxious, and my friends are currently trying to uncover Vanny's location. But I didn't tell him that.

"Nope, I'm good," I lied. "Can we play Monopoly now?"

"Nope," he said, poking fun at me, "I have a few questions for you, first."

That was never good. If he had a few questions for me, it meant Michael had told him some things that he wanted us to talk about.

"How're your pills?" he asked. I groaned. Of course Michael brought this up.

"Fine," I told him.

"Your father says you haven't needed a refill yet. Are you not taking them?" he said. I got a little annoyed from his deduction. I knew I should've been throwing them out.

"They don't work," I muttered.

"How so?" he asked.

"Uh... they don't... I don't know. They don't make me happy," I said.

"Well, it's not supposed to make you happy, they just help with the chemical imbalance," he said.

"Then why are they called happy pills?" I said.

Hudson nervously chuckled, "That's just a nickname. But if you think they don't work, we can try something else," he said.

"They won't work, either," I said, and I hugged myself tight and looked down at the floor. This was already my second attempt, my second prescription, and it didn't work. Why would the next one?

"I know this is hard," he said, "but just taking pills isn't going to make you happy. You have to put in the work, too."

"I have been!" I declared. "That's all I've been doing, but it never feels right." I really had been. It's not like I wanted to be feeling so hopeless all the time.