Flaws || h.s.

Chapter Eightteen

A/N: hi everyone! just a lil chapter to hold you over until the last one is posted sometime at the end of this month! and for those of you who are american, 40kg is around 90 pounds :) have a nice day thank you for being so patient and thank you for 60k reads!!! xoxox

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The exams passed by quickly, though it was hard to get out of bed each day, probably because my Prozac prescription had long since run out. My mum made an appointment for me to go talk to some doctor with a far too long title to pronounce. She told me to go to his office after school on Friday. "You feel better when you take them, Beth." She must have noticed how out of it I was and checked my pill bottle that was sitting on the cabinet in the bathroom, empty, sure enough.

I checked off the little boxes on the sheet the lady at the front desk handed me as I waited. It asked the standard questions, height, weight, then it went onto have me fill in the blanks on how I've been "feeling" and what the "duration and severity of my last manic episode" was and "how often I had thoughts about harming myself".

After I filled it out (mostly) truthfully and handed it back to the lady behind the desk, the familiar, balding middle aged man called me back. "Beth! How have you been?"

I sat down on the exam table before answering. "Okay."

"Your Prozac prescription has run out, correct?" He asked, glancing at his clipboard. I nodded before he continued. "So how have you been feeling?" Hadn't he just asked this?

"Okay," I repeated. "Things have just been stressful."

"Stressful how?"

"Just a lot at once. Exams, graduation, moving out," I said.

"Ah," he said. "When's graduation?"

"Tuesday. And all this week I have exams," I told him.

"When do you move out?" he asked.

"I already have," I laughed. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Sort of." I confirmed. "Most of my stuff is in London, and I stay there on the weekends with my boyfriend, but during the week I have school so I stay at home with my mum."

"Ah," he said as he pushed his glasses further up his tiny nose. "And hows the depression?"

"Sometimes good," I said. "Sometimes not so good. Recently it's been more like the latter."

"Anxiety? Any panic attacks?"

"Not often," I shrugged. "But when I do have them they're pretty bad."

"Any hypomania?"

"Nothing bad since I was in Paris last month," I almost shuddered at the memory.

"Any more thoughts about harming yourself?" The doctor took my blood pressure.

I shook my head. "Not recently, clean for two weeks," and that was true. "Which is surprising, because that's about as long as I've been off the antidepressants."

"Good. Progress. Very good," he said, putting the blood pressure gage back on its hook and taking out his prescription pad. "Can you step on the scale, please? I need to know your weight to determine the dosage." That was bullshit, he wanted to see if I had been eating. I did, though, and I held my breath. I hadn't weighed myself since last week, which was probably why I had been clean for so long. "40kg. That seems a little light. Have you been eating?" I nodded. "Okay, here is a prescription for Prozac. Call me when your Zanex or Zyprexa prescriptions run out."

I took the slip and thanked him, hopping off of the table and leaving the exam room. I smiled at the lady at the front desk on my way out to my car. Harry called as I walked across the parking lot. "Hey,"