Jet Black Hearts / l.h.

𝟏𝟗

Thursday, October 17, 2018
6:00 p.m.
Group Therapy

The session is over and everyone makes their way out of the stuffy room. Luke holds the door open for me, but before I can walk through, Dr. Hunter calls my name.

"Brinley, could you stay over for a few minutes?"

I glance at Luke.

"Yeah."

Luke asks, "Do you want me to wait?"

"No," I tell him. "I'll get my mom to come pick me up."

He studies me for a few seconds before nodding and ducking out the door, leaving Dr. Hunter and I alone in the room.

I idle by the closed door. The man takes a seat in the circle and waves me over. Reluctantly, I walk over, my sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. I sit in the chair next to his.

He pulls out a pen from his pocket, clicks it open, and scribbles something down on the paper attached to his clipboard. I wait silently fiddle with the inside hem on my jeans.

Dr. Hunter looks up at me and clears his throat.

"How have you been, Brin?"

"Fine," I answer stiffly.

He nods. "Your mother, lovely woman by the way, emailed me earlier today and said that you haven't been out and about much."

I stay quiet.

He pushes up his glasses and flips through the papers on his clipboard.

"It says here that you aren't on any prescription medicine to treat your depression. Is that right?"

"Right."

"Do you take any supplements or pills that aren't prescribed to you to help with your depression?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"Drugs?"

What is he even going on about? "I don't see the point in this," I say. "No, I don't do drugs and no, I'm not on any medication. Why?"

He chuckles lightly. "Straight to the point, eh?"

I don't reply.

Dr. Hunter taps the tip of the pen on his paper. "Your mother was thinking that you need some more help beyond group therapy. She and I talked over the phone just this afternoon and decided on an antidepressant that was right for you."

I blink. He and my mom decided on medication that was best for me, without my voice? How could they possibly decide what's best for me if I wasn't even there?

Dr. Hunter glances at my hands in my lap. I realize that they're clenched tight, so I wipe them off on my jeans.

"How do you feel about Prozac?"

"I don't know," I say. I've never heard of it before.

Dr. Hunter reads from his clipboard. "It helps treat some other mental disorders, like OCD and panic disorders, but you'll be taking it for your depression, obviously. You'll have to take one pill every day. Try to avoid pain medicine, like medicine you'd use for headaches or stomach pains, while you're taking Prozac. There are a few possible side effects, like diarrhea, different eating habits, weight loss or gain, a stronger sexual drive, and sleeplessness."

I don't react.

"How do you feel about this?"

"I don't know."

He sets his clipboard down onto an empty chair next to him and folds his arms. His eyes burn into mine and I have to look away.

"Dig deep, think about it," he pushes. "What emotions are you experiencing right now?"

He really is a therapist, isn't he?

I sigh, just wanting to leave. "I don't know. Anger?"

"Why's that?"

"I don't know."

He smiles. "You don't seem to know a lot."

"I'm 16."

The doctor shrugs. "I know a lot of smart 16 year-olds, you included."

I scoff.

Dr. Hunter clears his throat and uncrosses his legs. "I think we're done here." He scribbles something on the paper, then rips it out. He hands it to me.

Taking the paper, I skim over the words.

"Take this to your local pharmacy. There is more information on the bottle when you get it," he tells me as he stands and walks over to the door. He opens it wide open and looks to me.

I stand and walk out the door.

"Have a nice day," Dr. Hunter calls after me.

I wait outside for Mom to come pick me up. When she does, she's busy talking away on the phone to a relative and doesn't even look at me as I slip into the passenger side.

The ride home is silent, save for Mom's chattering.

When we arrive home Mom is still on the phone. I speed inside the house and down the hall into my room. I immediately close the door behind me, turn off the lights, shut the curtains, and climb into bed.

The silence and darkness engulfs me. My mind runs wild with the still atmosphere, no matter how hard I try to shut it off. People, words, and thoughts race into my head and it's all overwhelming.

Five minutes later, when it all gets too much, I throw my blankets off of my body and leave my room. The cool air-conditioned air hits my body and goosebumps rise to my skin.

I charge into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I rummage through the drawers for the new package of disposable shaving razors my mom had bought.

Just as I'm starting to pull one out, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. With the razor in one hand, I pull out my phone and glance at the screen in annoyance.

I pause.

Luke.

Glancing at myself holding the razor in the mirror in front of me, I imagine how Luke would react if he knew what I was about to do. Would he be sad? Angry? I'm not sure, but I do know that it would wipe the bright smile off of his face. And I don't want to do that.

I set the razor down and text Luke.