Friends. Is that what we were? I smiled at Bree, a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my veins. Calmness.

Before I could do or say anything else, Dr. Crowly came back in. She frowned disapprovingly at the way we were holding each other on the floor, but the look quickly vanished as she noticed my relaxed demeanor.

I nervously eyed her nose—it was swollen, but otherwise okay. “Are you okay?” I brought myself to speak up.

Dr. Crowly nodded. “Yes, Vic, don’t worry. I have your new medicine, but I have to talk to you about it, first, okay?” she said. I nodded, and she walked further into the room, jumping right into the information I needed to know about the medicine. I wasn’t really listening to her speak, though; talking about and thinking about my condition and situation always stressed me out. So, I focused on Bree: her soft hand that was still holding mine, her warm and reassuring smile, her slow and soothing breaths, her gentle hazel eyes—her calming aura in general.

“So you have to make sure you tell one of us if you feel these side effects, okay?” she checked. I nodded, not knowing what these side effects were but knowing that I would probably be able to figure them out if I experienced them.

“Here you are,” she said, handing me a glass of water and two light yellow pills along with my usual white ones.

“Thanks,” I murmured, popping them into my mouth and taking them quickly with no argument.

“Good job,” she said, and I felt irritated again with the way she talked down to me. “Good night,” she said, and I smiled weakly in return as she left me and Bree alone in my room.

“I’m scared,” I blurted out, immediately regretting the words that made me sound like a weak child.

“You don’t have to be scared,” she said gently, tracing her fingertips up and down my arm tenderly.

“But the nightmares…” I shivered, the image of my nightmares invading my mind again.

“…Are just nightmares,” she reminded me. I liked the way she spoke to me like I was a normal human being—how she talked to me as if I wasn’t a schizophrenic, as if nightmares weren’t my worst, er, nightmare. (If I were talking to Dr. Crowly right now, she probably would be reminding me that I should be afraid of nightmares, because my condition essential ensures that nightmares occur more vividly).

“And you are allowed to be scared, you know,” she added. “I get nightmares that scare me,” she said thoughtfully.

“Yeah but you’re not a schiz,” I mumbled.

“That makes no difference. Vic, I know Dr. Crowly said that your condition is getting worse, but it wasn’t even that bad to begin with. So when she says it’s getting worse, you’re still not in a terribly bad place, if that makes sense,” she explained. “It’s a bumpy road, and you’re just having a bad couple of days. But you’re going to be okay,” she said. At her words, I pulled her into another hug. She always had a way of making me feel better.

“But will I be okay? I’ll have to be on medication the rest of my life… people will judge me, I won’t get a good job… if I ever even get out of here…” I mumbled lowly.

“There’s nothing wrong with being on medication. You can’t help it. Some of us need a little extra guidance to go through life, and that’s fine. And you will get a job, you’ll be fine in that department, I promise. And you will get out of here. I’ll be damned if you don’t,” she said, a new fierceness behind her words.

“I just feel hopeless right now,” I told her. I figured that I would just tell her exactly how I felt—maybe I could get better if I was straight up about what was going on in my head.

“You’re just lost. But, don’t worry, I’ll help you get back on track,” she said sweetly.

“Thank you,” I said, giving her a squeeze. I had so much to thank her for… when I was around her, I didn’t feel like a mentally ill patient. I didn’t feel like I had any problems. I just felt like a normal person—a sad, bothered normal person, but I felt like none of those problems were serious because at least I had her.

All good things must come to an end, though.

“I unfortunately have to leave, now,” she said quietly, standing up. I stood up with her.

“I know,” I said quietly. I wish you could stay…

Her face flushed a light shade of pink, and I was afraid that I had said my thoughts out loud again.

“You did,” she giggled, patting my head. I frowned, realized that I had spoken out loud again.

“Good night Bree,” I said quietly, giving her another hug.

“Good night, Vic. You’ll be okay. Try to think about happy things as you fall asleep,” she advised. I nodded, liking the idea of thinking about her as I fell asleep. She smiled, kissing my cheek and hugging me again. Sometimes I truly forgot that she was my psychiatrist.

I breathed in her comforting scent, hoping that it would last me the entire night.

It did.

Notes

A short, filler-y-ish chappy. Kind of fluffy, maybe? Kinda? Nice, sweet conversations, I think? Inspirational stuff? IDK MAN
I'm sick so I can't sleep thus more time to write. I guess I'm not complaining.
Currently cuddling with a roll of toilet paper for easy-to-access tissues. NBD.

Talk to me kiddos Don't be a ghost reader plss I know you're there!! I see u
idek

alrighty peace out