Basquiat.

chapter ten.

Note: Explicit language ahead! August's character has been through a lot, so he has a bit of a potty mouth. Enjoy!

•••

August

After the events that took place in my apartment a few days ago, I decided it was time I manned up and finally take the medication.

I wasn't necessarily hype about it, but whatever keeps me from having these sudden outbursts would be a blessing.

I stood at the front desk of the clinic once again for my check-in.

"Name?"

"August. August Alsina."

Just as she typed in my name to find the scheduled appointment, my nurse called me out.

"You can follow me to the back, Mr. Alsina," she said with a cheeky grin.

"Ight."

The nurse checked my weight, height, and vision prior to my session with Dr. Latif.

••

"How are you feeling today, August?" Latif grinned.

"To be quite honest with ya', I feel like shit."

"Explain."

"I been having these weird ass hallucinations, like, shit my step pops use to say to me just start fuckin' wit me every now and then."

"Were these words positive or negative?" He asked while writing on his clipboard.

"Negative."

"Would you describe your step father as verbally abusive?"

"Yes."

"Physically?"

I looked down and fiddled with my fingers.

"It's okay to be scared, August. In order for me to get the help you need, I need to to know these things."

"H-he used to, uh, like..."
"Shit man!" I yelled as tears began to fall down my face.

"August, please continue," Dr. Latif said as he adjusted his glasses.

"He touched on a nigga, alright!" I semi-yelled through tears.

He sat stiff, obviously taken back by my words.

"Are you saying he molested you, August?"

I clenched my fists as the terrible memories flooded through my head and tears stained my shirt.

"H-he used ta' tell me that we was gon' play some la' innocent games. Me already being the curious kid I was, I listened to him. He would take me down to the basement and have me do unimaginable things, dawg."

"Did you ever inform an adult you trusted? Was your mother around?"

"My momma ain't even try ta' help me when I told her about it, man. She would just tell me to keep shit pushin' and forget about it."
"He would wait til' my moms went out fa' work at night and make me do shit I ain't even know was wrong.

He scribbled things on his clipboard, I couldn't seem to make out.

"I hated every mothafuckin' second of the shit he made me do ta' him! He told me that the shit was supposed to make me feel good, man!"
"I swear on my brotha's grave if he was alive ta'day, I would kill his ass. Straight up!"

He glared at me for a moment as if he was debating on speaking again.

"How did he die, if I may ask?"

"Lung cancer."
"The nigga smoked too many fuckin' cigarettes."

"And your mother?"

"Somewhere in tha' hood prolly' living off a crack pipe," I said dryly.

"I take it that you and your mother are no longer in speaking terms?"

I nodded.

"How are you relationships? Are you dating at the moment?

"I ain't never really had a real girlfriend or nun'."

"Why not?"

"No one ever taught me how to really love a woman, cherish her, or how even give her all that she needs from me."
"My step pop's belittled my mama so much ta' a point where I never knew how I was supposed to treat a woman."

He pursed his lips together and chewed on the cap of his pen.

"August, I believe your depression begins to trigger a lot more frequently when you're alone. Loneliness could play another high factor in the repetitive cycle of your anger build up."
"Have you been using any alcohol, drugs, or any mellowers?"

"I have me a quick drink hea' and there, nothing too major," I lied.

He stopped writing on his clipboard as if he didn't believe me.

"Bad drinking habits could be the reason behind the hallucinations you're experiencing. Intoxicating yourself to a point where you are unable to fuction properly will not help the depression, August."

I nodded my head.

"Tell me about your siblings, if you have any, what's your relationship with them like?"

"My olda' brother Mel died when I was younger. He was shot while doing a quick "drop off" by some dudes who had been plottin' on his death for a long time."
"I have another brother and a sister, but we ain't got the same pop's, so we was never that close. We stopped speaking a long time ago," I sighed.

"How are yo-"

"Look, I don't mean ta' be rude or nothin' but all of these questions are getting real annoyin' now," I said as I shook my leg excessively.

I hated being asked too many questions.

"Very well, but I'd like to schedule another session with you, August. There's still more we need to cover yet."

I nodded.

"Great, you can head to the pharmacy downstairs and pick up your medication with this slip," he said while handing me my prescription.

"Though the cautionary instructions for the intake of the drug are on the bottle, I want to make sure you're aware that it is not supposed to taken with any substance or alcohol."

I nodded my head,
"Can I head out?"

"Sure, have a great afternoon," he cheesily grinned.

"You as well, Dr. Latif."

I headed downstairs to the pharmacy, picked up my pills, and began heading to the work.

Today was the day I got to paint Masika.

"Masika... Masika," I thought to myself as I drove.

She was becoming the sunshine after my rainy day.