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Description
I walked throughout the street, or was it even one? I twitched at the slight thought of this being something other than a walk. I started to feel eyes peering into me like something was tunnelling its way through my mind. I started to jerk my head around, no one. No one was staring, why did I have that feeling then? I stopped thinking, just trying to stay calm. I walked into the drug store, at least that's what I called it, and walked up to the desk. The receptionist greeted me with a sad smile, why was it a sad one? was she pitying me? "The usual?" they questioned, I nodded. The medications never worked, or I never thought they did, but I tried, it would just be giving up otherwise. They slid the bag of drugs towards me and I put the right amount of money on the counter. I quickly snatched the bag and left, walking way home. There was something wrong, very wrong, something in the shadows. My pace quickened.

I looked around before opening the door to my house, walking into the dishevelled, over-cluttered place. I cautiously walked towards my kitchen, getting some water to take the medicine I placed on the counter with. I paused, my hand jerked and the cup flew to the ground, the impact shattering the glass and water spilling everywhere. "Why?" I said, kneeling to clean it up, only to cut my hand. "Why? Why? Why?" I continued, picking myself up and walking towards my bathroom. I stared at my reflection, forgetting about the cut. I looked tired, dishevelled, I looked like death. what happened to me? Before them I was fine, but now- fucking hell. Can I medicate a broke heart like this? I found my phone on the floor, picking it up and calling someone.
"Hello? This is doctor Smith,"
"Docter? It's me,"
"Oh," I heard the shock in their voice, "I haven't heard from you, hows it been?"
"I'm unwell, thanks for asking. I just had a long look at myself, I need an appointment,"
"The next opening I have is next week Thursday, I can come to your house,"
"I think I need that,"
"Okay, I'll see you then,". The doctor hung up, and I slid to the ground. I sobbed, bringing my hand to my face. I then remembered the cut, I got up and washed it. I opened the cabinet and searched for a bandage to put around it. Can I medicate?