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Vic

"Nope. That's out of the question. Not doing that." I say firmly, glaring at the doctor in front of me.

"Babe," Kellin says softly.

I turn to him and meet his pleading eyes. But even they're not going to convince me this time.

"I'm not going to therapy. You can't make me." I huff like a child.

"I don't want to make you." Kellin sighs. "I want you to do what's best for yourself. I think it could really help."

"I'm not going to sit in a room and talk to a stranger about how I'm feeling and listen to them tell me shit I already know. It's not happening so you can forget about it." I snap, crossing my arms defensively. My hand presses against the tender wound on my arm, adding to my frustration.

There's a tense silence that follows. I look down at the murky green lino floor, wishing I was home, or dead. I can't decide which would be better. Right now I'm leaning towards the latter.

"There is another option." The doctor speaks hesitantly.

I look back at him, waiting for him to continue.

"We could start you on medication to stabilize your mood." he suggests.

I shake my head immediately. 

"I don't want to take pills for the rest of my life just to feel normal." I mutter.

"It isn't a life sentence, Vic. It's just until you're in a place where you can manage the depression symptoms without it." he explains but I'm not convinced.

"What if it doesn't work? Or I feel worse?" My voice shakes. 

"If you're not feeling the best while you're on the medication, we can alter the dose or try a different kind of medication."

I struggle to think up another excuse as quiet echos off the uninviting clinic walls. 

I know I'm being ridiculous. The doctor could offer me an instant cure and I probably wouldn't take it. I'm scared. What if nothing works and then I'm out of options? What if it does work and I get used to being okay, then it stops working? I'm already at rock bottom. I'd rather stay here than fall down again.

Kellin takes my hand so I look to him. He looks so torn and I feel like shit for making him feel that way. Maybe I should stop stressing him out and be compliant.

"I take antidepressants." he sighs softly.

I frown at him confused. "You do?"

He nods and squeezes my hand.

"Yeah, for anxiety. I've been on them for a few months. I feel a lot more like myself now. One of the best decisions I ever made." he explains.

I have a million questions for him, the big one being 'why didn't he tell me?', but now is not the best time for that conversation.

I look back at the doctor, feeling stuck. I don't want to go to therapy, I don't want to take medication but I also don't want to be depressed anymore, I don't want to burden Kellin anymore. 

I look back at Kellin whose sad eyes are boring into me. I want to make him happy, I want to be a better husband, a better person for him and I know I won't be able to do that if I don't get this under control.

My reluctance falls away and I give in. I look back at the doctor and sigh.

"Okay," I decide. "I'll try it."

The doctor seems pleased as he starts giving me the rundown on the prescription he's about to give me. He runs through the name, the dose, what to do and what not to do, and then the potential side effects. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry when he mentions insomnia, sexual dysfunction and suicidal thoughts as symptoms. It's not like things could possibly get any worse.

Kellin squeezes my hand again but I pull it away. I feel a little betrayed. I don't want to be here and he made me come here. He made me step off that ledge, he made me stay. If he had just left me alone, I would be gone, and I wouldn't have to deal with all this shit.

Once the doctor has given me my script and pencilled me in for a follow up appointment in a few weeks, Kellin and I leave.

There's a tense silence between us and I know I'm the cause. I know I'm being ridiculous again. He cares about me and I should be grateful for that. I guess I'm just feeling defensive right now. I don't like being vulnerable and he's forcing it out of me. But I don't want to make things worse than they already are so I swallow my frustration and get into the passenger seat.

Kellin drives off towards the pharmacy to collect my medication.

I have a question itching at my brain, but I'm hesitant to ask, because I'm not sure if I want to know the answer.

"What are you thinking?" Kellin asks softly, reaching over and rubbing my knee.

I swallow dryly and give in to the irritation at the forefront of my mind.

"Why didn't you tell me you were taking medication?" I ask him.

I'm expecting him to say that he doesn't trust me, that when I saw Carter I broke his trust forever and he never wants to open up to me again. But he doesn't say any of that.

"I was embarrassed." he admits.

"What do you mean?" I frown.

He sighs deeply and takes his hand off my knee.

"You kept suggesting that I see a doctor, that I get professional help, and I kept insisting that I could handle all this on my own. But when the medication started to work, I realized that I hadn't been handling things very well at all, that you were right, I did need professional help, but I was too stubborn to listen to you." he explains.

"So you're feeling better?" I ask hopefully.

"Much better." he smiles. "I still get anxious sometimes, but I'm able to handle it a lot better now."

I nod, feeling a sense of warmth just knowing that things are improving for him. All I've ever wanted is for him to be happy.

"When did this happen?" I ask curiously.

"When you went to see Carter." he frowns. "I promise, I planned to tell you sooner. I've just been struggling to find the right moment."

"I understand. I'm just glad you're feeling better." I murmur.

I rest my head against the window and start to consider that maybe this isn't as scary as I first thought it was. Maybe this is the only way things can get back to normal.

"It got worse before it got better though." Kellin says, interrupting my brief optimism.

I look back at him, silently urging him to continue. He stares ahead at the road, a hint of shame in his eyes.

"It took a couple of weeks for the meds to balance out in my system and during that time, I was highly emotional and more anxious than ever." he explains. "I've been snappy and reactive. And I know that must have affected your mental health. I'm sorry. I should have communicated better so you knew that it wasn't your fault. I feel horrible for the way I've treated you."

"You don't need to apologize and you don't need to feel horrible. I haven't exactly been the best at communicating lately either. I haven't been honest. I haven't been the best husband. I think I'm just as much to blame." I mumble.

Kellin shakes his head though and takes my hand.

"You don't need to be putting any more blame on yourself. Just let me have this one, okay?" he pleads softly.

I reluctantly agree with a nod. Kellin soon pulls up in front of the pharmacy then he turns to me with a new-found smile on his face.

"I'm just going to run in. Are you gonna be okay here by yourself?" he asks.

The question makes me uncomfortable. I can't help but to feel like I'm being treated like a child. But I can't blame him for his hesitancy to leave me alone with myself. Clearly I can't be trusted.

I nod and force a smile. Kellin quickly kisses my cheek before he gets out of the car and hurries off into the store. I bring my fingertips to the place his lips lingered briefly. Every little gesture of affection still has an affect on me.

I'm so lucky to have someone who has my best interests at heart. I almost can't believe he's stuck by my side through everything and he still clearly loves and cares for me. But of course he does, he's always cared about me. He cared about me all those years ago when he discovered I was self-harming, he cared when he let Carter hurt him to protect me, he cared when he talked me off that bridge, and he cares now. He wants me to get better. And I want to get better for him.

Kellin soon returns, holding a small paper bag. He greets me with another quick kiss on the cheek then he starts the car and begins driving home.

I take the bag and pull out the bottle of pills. The label reads 'Prozac 20mg' and has my name printed on a sticker directly under it. My name once again doesn't seem like mine. I feel like I don't even know who I am anymore. I sigh defeated and drop the bottle back into the bag.

I rest my elbow against the car door and use my hand to prop my head up. I stare at my husband as he drives, paying careful attention to the road, like he always does.

I just appreciate his beauty. Despite my emotional exhaustion and overall numbness, my love for him still blooms like blood from a fresh cut. I think I'll die before I ever stop loving him, although, given recent circumstances, death might not be as far away as I initially thought.

Kellin glances at me momentarily then looks back ahead.

"What are you thinking?" he asks me softly.

My cheeks suddenly flush as I fall back into old habits. Before I admitted my feelings to Kellin, I felt like I'd been caught doing something I wasn't supposed to every time I was interrupted while daydreaming about him.

It always takes my brain a second to catch up and realize that this is all real, it's not a daydream and I can love Kellin as openly as I'd like.

"I love you." I smile softly.

He smiles too and glances at me.

"I know." he murmurs softly. "And I love you. I hope you know that already though."

I do.

We soon arrive home and I migrate to the sofa, almost as if it's a habit. I really need to break all these self-destructive habits. Kellin follows but doesn't sit and instead stands at the end of the sofa.

"Hey, it's just about time for me to take my meds. Why don't we take them together?" Kellin suggests.

I just nod, indifferent to the whole situation. I'd rather just not think about it.

He spins around and heads back out of the room. I turn on the TV and find the Home Shopping Network so I have some background noise as I sink into my thoughts.

Kellin returns before my mind can get away from me too much. He places a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him then falls onto the sofa next to me. He leans against me as he shakes a blue pill out of a bottle and into his palm, then he abandons the bottle next to the glass of water. I read the label 'Zoloft: 50mgs'. The sticker across the back of the bottle says 'KELLIN FUENTES'. Sometimes I forget that we're married but my name joined with his is a sweet reminder.

I take that as my cue to open up the bag where my pill bottle resides. I take it out then twist open the cap. I tap out one green pill onto my palm then look to Kellin, as if I need instructions on how to swallow it.

"Cheers." Kellin grins, pinching the small tablet in his fingers.

I humor him and tap my tablet against his.

He puts the pill on his tongue then uses the water to wash it down. He passes the glass to me and watches me expectantly.

I look down at antidepressant in my hand and wonder if it'll work. I don't want to put any hope into it, because if it doesn't work, I don't want that hope to dissolve away. I'll reserve the little hope I have left for another time. I'm just going to take this stupid little pill and give it no merit and as little attention as possible until it proves itself to me.

I scoop the pill into my mouth then wash it away. I look back to the TV and pretend it never existed.

"This must be what cute ninety-year-old couples do." Kellin beams, cuddling up to me. "Just taking their meds together. I can't wait to grow old with you."

I just hum, not wanting to give the subject much attention.

We sit in silence for a while, giving me the opportunity to ruminate on whether or not I want to die. I barely notice the woman on the TV trying to sell me psychic readings until Kellin mutes the TV and sighs.

"You need to stop watching this garbage." he tells me, standing up off the sofa.

"It's not garbage." I say defensively, although I don't know why I'm defending it. It is garbage.

I watch him kneel in front of the drawers in the TV unit. He slides one open and begins looking for something.

"It's trash, Vic. You can't tell me you're getting any joy out of watching this." Kellin says.

I don't respond, because he's right.

He pulls out a DVD then slides it into the DVD player. The TV automatically switches over and I realize he has put on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air, the only complete boxset I own because it's my favorite show.

"Watch something that makes you happy." Kellin smiles softly, then he stands back up and sits next to me on the sofa.

He presses play and I wrap my arm around him, pulling him closer to me.

As the show begins, a warmth of nostalgia fills my chest and I find myself feeling attentive and interested in something for the first time in months.

I look to my husband, in awe at how well he knows me. I briefly wonder how he knew just what I needed when I didn't even know myself. But it occurs to me that he knew because he cares.

I find myself imagining us as one of those 90-year-old couples he was just talking about. I imagine growing old with him. I imagine loving him for many years to come.

He makes me want to live. I want to live. But things are always easier said than done.

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