twenty three

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"So, you've been having suicidal thought?" Mary asks as she steps into the office after we've been waiting for thirty minutes. I just shrug, feeling uncomfortable talking about this in front of my mum.

"He has," she confirms. "His therapist recommended we see you and ask about it."

"Yes," Mary furrows her eyebrows. "Actually, I'd like to take a look at the prescription we've given you. I'd estimate a ten-minute wait, if that's alright with you."

"You think the medicine gave him suicidal thoughts?" mum gasps.

"I'm just going to have a look, ma'am. I'll be back with you shortly," she says calmly before stepping out of the room. An awkward tension between me and mum fills the air as I just play with my hands the entire wait. Mary steps in, not ten, but fifteen minutes later.

"So?" mum asks.

"It's been proven that one in three patients prescribed with this medication have had results of suicidal thoughts. I'd like to formally apologize for not considering it, but the chances weren't very high."

"Not very high? One in every three kids gather these thoughts, and you didn't think to mention that to me? Do you know how fatal this could have ended for my son?" mum snaps, and I don't blame her. I can't help but wonder how many people actually did something because of these thoughts. A few months ago, I would've never imagined being someone to even consider something like suicide, but now I guess I am seeing the effects of the side effects and the ptsd at full force.

"Ma'am, I admit it was a careless mistake, and-"

"Careless doesn't even begin to describe it! It's unthinkable, risking my baby's mental health and life!" She says angrily, before taking my hand and I scoot off the patient bench as she pulls me towards the door, still remaining gentle even though she's angry. "I'm sorry, but I won't allow him to be prescribed anything else. We'll have to find something else."

-

"So it was the drugs?" Harry asks, my sitting on the bed and him pacing back and forth slowly with his hands clasped over his mouth in a prayer-form and pursed lips to process it all.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

"And you're off them now?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he breathes out. "You have no idea how worried I was when you said those things."

"I shouldn't have," I shake my head. "I know it upset you."

"I'm so fucking glad you did, though. Otherwise, you probably wouldn't have told your mum at all."

"Yeah, you're right."

"It scares me so much to even think about what would've happened if-"

"Haz, don't think about that," I say, standing up and enveloping him in a tight hug. "I'm okay, and I'm gonna get even better now."

"You have no idea how proud I am of you," he says, his voice muffled as his face is in my hair.

"Thank you for being there for me," I say in response.

"Always, Lou."

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