I was delivered to my room, where I laid down and allowed myself to fully calm down. I stared at the ceiling, listening to my automatic breathing and bunching the covers up in my hands. I still felt sick. Like I had a rock in my stomach. But I was breathing, and the tightness in my chest subsided.

I couldn't hear anything beyond my room, which was odd. I could usually hear the television, or the sound of loud typing from Marks ancient laptop. From what I heard, the whole house was silent. Did he go back to work after I got home?

I decided to investigate. I left my room and walked silently to the living room. Brent was still there. He and Mark were sitting in the living room, talking in hushed voices. I was getting worried.

I knocked on the doorway awkwardly. Both of their heads popped up to look at me and their conversation skidded to a stop.

"Drew," Brent said with a small smile. "You're up. How do you feel?"

I shrugged as if I hadn't just had a breakdown in the middle of a gymnasium. "Fine, I guess."

Mark cleared his throat uncomfortably. He patted the seat beside him. "Come sit down. We have to talk to you."

"We?" I repeated incredulously. "If you're about to give me the talk, don't bother. Grade 6 health class covered it."

They didn't find me particularly funny, so I pretended I didn't say anything and did as I was told. I sat down beside Brent, across from my uncle.

They didn't say anything at first. They both stared at me like they expected me to start. Did they forget that they wanted to talk to me?

After what felt like an eternity, Mark coughed.

"We're worried about you," He said, then corrected, "I'm worried about you, son."

I scanned his face for a punchline, but there wasn't one.

"Is this some kind of intervention..?" I asked sarcastically. "Because I don't remember having my addictions. Unless I'm addicted to concussions. I wouldn't remember that too much, would I?"

"Drew, seriously," Brent scolded. There was no humour on either of their faces. I found myself looking away from them both, feeling their eyes burning into my skin. "You haven't been yourself recently."

"Oh, and you have?" I snapped back without thinking. It was an insensitive response. I just wanted them to focus on something else.

Brent took my hand wordlessly.

I looked up at Mark. He was reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. He retrieved a small orange pill bottle, about half full, and held it out to me.

"You should start taking these again," He said matter-of-factly. He sniffled, which wasn't a good sign. A man like him didn't sniffle unless he was really upset.

I stared at the pill bottle. I was shaking my head before I even registered what they were.

"I stopped taking those over a year ago," I protested. "I don't need them anymore-"

"No, you didn't need them," Mark interjected. "I think you do now."

I laughed humourlessly and pushed them back toward him.

"This is ridiculous," I said. "Don't you think this is an overreaction? I mean, it was one panic attack."

"But it wasn't," Brent cut in and I have never wanted him to shut up more in my entire life. "Face it, Drew. Something is going on with you. I know you're not a huge fan of taking meds but if it'll help, isn't it worth it?"

I didn't even grace that with a reply. I didn't feel it deserved one.

"You clearly don't want to hear any of this, but your doctor did say when you went off your medication to keep some around in case you did need them again, right?" Mark said, wasting breath on stuff I already knew. "Well the time has come. Don't be a baby about this. Buck up and take care of yourself."

He held them out to me again, going so far as to rattle the pills a little as he did. I didn't look at him as I snatched them out of his hands and pocketed them.

Without warning, I stood up, releasing Brent's hand.

"I'm going for a walk," I announced. I heard Brent sigh.

"Sit back down, we can talk-"

"I don't want to talk," I interrupted. "I need some air."

I left the house. I left my keys inside, so I guess I really was going for a walk. I needed to cool off. I knew they just wanted to help and as much as I appreciated that, I didn't need it. I hated that they treated me like I was a child. I knew what I needed better than they did.

It was still daylight outside, meaning I couldn't hide my shame under the shield of nighttime. I was out under the spotlight we so fondly called the sun, and though I valued earth - you know - existing I never wanted that stupid star to burn out more in my life. Maybe I should have stomped down the hall, back into my bedroom, and pulled a blanket over my head. But there was no turning back now. That'd be more humiliating than leaving in the first place.

I kept a steady pace, fueled by the bottle burning a hole in my pocket. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten mad. They want to help, right? They love me. They want the best for me.

But they won't listen. I said no. I said I didn't want to. But they pushed and I can't handle that.

Though it was only a short conversation, it blew up like a billboard in my brain. It was consuming me. Which might have been horrible, if it wasn't blocking out the other billboard in my brain temporarily. At least it was a distraction.

As I've expressed before, our town was small. As infinitesimal and insignificant as a lone dime on Time Square. There wasn't very far for me to walk, so I returned somewhere familiar.

I stood at the waters edge, the woods surrounding the dirt road blocking me in. Safe and sound. The pond glittered with sunlight and the reflections burned my eyes. I stuck my hands in my pockets. I should just go home. Apologize. Do as they tell me.  They're far better at taking care of me than I am.

Absently, my hand wrapped around the pill bottle. I moved my thumb to feel the texture of it. It was as familiar as my trucks steering wheel in my hand. I was very used to it. I felt stupid for thinking I was rid of them forever. Anxiety doesn't just disappear, no matter how much you wish it would.

I pulled the bottle from my pocket and stared at it. It wasn't a big deal. A stupid pill I swallowed every now and then. It would make me feel better overall. There were no real cons to it, except for some mild side effects. I would be better with them than I am now.

Despite all my reasoning, I pulled my arm back and launched it forward, releasing the bottle and watching as it dropped into the water with a splash.

(A/N: not my best but I figure I've left you guys waiting for long enough. Please leave your thoughts in the comments. I love reading them lol.)