Passion || h.s.

Chapter 8

"Can I just say, I don't feel like I'm progressing at all."

Manny shook his head at me, frowning. I had been here for over twenty minutes, just staring at Manny.

"Did you know?" I asked him. I was so upset with the fact that my hallucinations were back once again. It hadn't been that bad in a few years, and to have them that way, lasting for so long, it was incredibly terrifying.

"Yes," he answered, setting down the pad of paper he was holding onto. "Given the circumstances with Harry, I must inform him about your mental state. Would you like to be present for this Michela?"

I scoffed. "Don't pull that doctor shit with me and act like we don't know each other Manny."

"Michela, watch your language," he demanded. "You went through a severe dramatization today, and if you are insisting on staying with Harry, he needs to know. Do you understand?" Manny never got loud or upset with me, but it was obvious he was frustrated. He took notice in my change of attitude, softening his eyes. "You scared us Mickey."

I didn't answer him as he let Harry in, his eyes bloodshot. I still hadn't a clue from what. He definitely wasn't drunk, but he was soaked from the tip of his head, to the ends of his toes. He dried off a bit, able to walk around without dripping. The moment I looked at him, I thought about the car ride over, feeling a warmth through my body. He glanced up at me as soon as I remembered, his eyes cold. Manny spoke, gesturing for Harry to sit next to me. When he did, his body was as far away as he could get himself, and it hurt. So much.

"Harry, you've agreed with me to watch over Michela, this is correct?" Harry nodded, so Manny continued, explaining this agreement to me. "Harry is living with you, so he has all the time I don't with you. We will be prescribing you your regular medicine again-"

"No." I shook my head, crossing my arms in frustration.

"Only until I feel are safe again Michela." I rolled my eyes, looking away from him. I heard him sigh, and could almost feel his hurt from my attitude towards him. "Anyway, he will keep you safe Mickey. Harry," he said, once again directing himself to Harry, "you need to know about Michela's... mental health. She suffers from PTSD or-"

"Post traumatic stress disorder," I finished. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here," I commented, turning back to face them

"As I was saying, PTSD basically is an anxiety disorder acquired from traumatic events. Some of the symptoms of this disorder are nightmares, flashbacks, hallucinations. Michela has learned to control these things, but recently they have gotten worse. To calm her down," Manny started, but stopped. He looked to me thoughtfully. "Michela, what calms you?" He asked.

"I like music."

"She needs to breath. Help her breath and have her drink water."

"And put on music," I added, smiling to myself.

"And that," Manny said, smiling as well. Harry seemed dazed through all of this, nodding every once and a while. I thought about our trip here again, remembering Harrys' silence the entire way until we got to the parking lot.

"Michela," Harry whispered, turning to me. I shook my head, refusing to let him see. I couldn't believe what I had seen, especially with Harry. What if he knew and thought I was weird? "Michela please," he begged, pulling my arm.

"What," I snapped, turning to look at him.

"Can I have some time alone with Michela?" Harry asked, still not daring to look at me. I didn't blame him, knowing that he thought I was insane. There was no way he could think anything else. He saw me in such a terrible state, and he was scared. Manny nodded, looking at me for conformation. I nodded as well, and soon he shuffled out, leaving Harry and I to sit in silence. Harry stared at me while I watched the clock tick away slower than humanly possible.