21

Sunday on Fire

It was Sunday when it had happened.
Just like today was Sunday. Sunday was the worst day of the week for a multitude of reasons.

It was the end of the weekend, and then it had to be Monday, the whole thing would start all over again.

Wake up, go to class, go home, sleep.
Wake up, go to class, go home, sleep.
Wake up, go to class, go home, s l e e p.
WAke uP gO to CLaSs GOo hOmE S lE eP.

All work and no play makes Richie lose his goddamn mind.

At least being in the hospital had been a change of scenery. And at least being off his meds came with some new emotions that he hadn't felt in awhile.

In the last three years Richie had only ever missed a dose or two, until how that is. He was usually really good about taking his medications.

Round pill in the morning.
Rectangular pill in the evening.
Round pill in the morning.
Rectangular pill in the evening.

Every day. For three years.

Richie sometimes had intrusive thoughts that he couldn't shake. He told Bill about it once, and he said he got them too sometimes. So he never mentioned it to the woman who prescribed his medication every month.

What if I stuck my hand in the disposal? Would we still get our deposit back? Or would they not give it to us cause my flesh would be stuck down there?

I wonder what it feels like to be burned alive.

I wonder if it hurt when she died.

I wonder if it was my fault. I was supposed to visit her, and I didn't.

What kills you first? The smoke inhalation? Or being on fire?

"Richie? They called your name."

Richie's body was on autopilot as he stood up and walked the same route down the hall that he had walked every time he had come here.

It was the same office. Third door on the left.

He opened the door and entered the room, seeing his doctor.

"Hello Richie."

"Hi Dr. Skarsgard."

~~~

Richie explained the way he had been feeling. And what had happened in the past week or so. As always Dr. S suggested therapy, and as always Richie declined. He just wanted some sort of magic pill to fix everything. But such a thing didn't exist. There was no perfect medication, no perfect combination of medications to fix every issue in Richie's mind. But he would never stop asking or looking for such a thing.

"I think maybe we should lower your dosage. You shouldn't feel nothing, and you shouldn't be feeling everything all at once either. If we lower the dosage, your emotions will be under better control, but you wont feel numb. It's probably because you've been on them so long, your starting to get used to them."

"So same pills. Same routine. Lower dosage."

"Here you can start the new dosage today."

Richie hadn't taken his meds yet today, he wanted to wait and see what his doctor said.

"And Richie?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever have another emergency or crisis you can call the number on the back of the appointment card and they'll help you."

"Okay. I can do that."

"I know today is tough for you. It's the anniversary right?"

"Yeah. It is. I almost forgot about it. With everything going on. . ."

"Well if you change your mind about the therapy you can always call and make an appointment. You never have to talk about anything you don't want to. We just want to help. Mental illness runs in your family, we are here to help break the cycle."

Dr. Skarsgard was one of the kindest people Richie had ever met. He definitely didn't make much money working at a state funded clinic helping homeless and poor get medical attention they needed. He didn't do it for the money, you could tell he chose this line of work to help people.

Richie took his prescription and headed out the way he had come in. They were one of the first people there, but still had to wait around an hour. He was glad Stan and Bill made him come.

Bill sat up in his chair upon seeing Richie come back into the waiting room. Stanley was too busy reading a national geographic magazine about birds to notice.

"H-how'd it go?" Bill asked.

"Good. He lowered my dosage. So I can. . . Feel more, but not too much I guess?" It made more sense in Richie's head than when he tried to explain it out loud.

"So we can head out now?" Stanley hadn't taken Richie to the clinic as much as Bill had, so he didn't fully remember the procedure like Bill did.

"I have to make my next appointment with the front desk. Then we can go."

"Mr Tozier?"

The front desk worker called Richie to schedule his next appointment. Since he was going to be starting a lower dosage he had to come back in two weeks so they could make sure there were no negative effects on him.

Everything had been squared away. It was time to go home and try to enjoy the rest of there Sunday.

Which Richie wasn't going to be able to do, since today was the two year anniversary of his parents death.

They had died in a house fire.
A Sunday on fire.

A/N: My doctor also recently lowered my dosage on my meds cause I was feeling numb and this is the first time anyone's tried that since my brains and body get used to medications after taking them for about a year, so instead of just switching my meds completely, or increasing the dosage, she lowered it and tbh I feel MUCH better.