Chapter 43: Psychiatrist

Rising from my bed in the early hours of the morning, well before the sun began its ascent, I hastily reached for my tracksuit and slipped it on. Stepping out of the house, I began to run for miles. With each inhale, my lungs grew heavier. Eventually, I found myself unable to push forward any longer, sitting down on the first bench I saw.

"Ah, yes. That whore of a psychologist surely told my 'depressed' state to the psychiatrist," I mused, a sly grin forming on my lips. "With this knowledge in mind, I will play my part flawlessly."

The early awakening serves a purpose; my eyes, tinged with the darkness of weariness, will appear as if I couldn't sleep Also, I didn't shower for days, neglecting basic hygiene will convey a lack of motivation, an undeniable marker of depression. The hurried sprint I undertook will leave me drenched in sweat, further accentuating my destroyed state. Such deliberate tactics will undoubtedly nudge the psychiatrist toward perceiving me as truly depressed.

Standing up from the bench still tired I walked home. Once inside, I hastily rummaged through my wardrobe, deliberately selecting clothing that had been hanging untouched for years—forgotten relics of a forgotten time. These worn and faded garments would further contribute to the carefully crafted facade I intended to present.

Just as I was about to depart, my mother, woke from her sleep, her silhouette emerging from the dark room where my father remained asleep. Casting a confused gaze upon me, she questioned the reason behind my early awakening.

"I'm heading to the psychiatrist," I whispered softly, mindful not to disturb my father who still slept soundly.

My mother hugged and kissed me before I closed the door and went to the hospital again. I grew tired of the seemingly endless visits to the hospital. Days that could have been dedicated to grow my still small empire were instead spent in the company of psychologists and now psychiatrists, draining both my time and potential money.

Stepping into his office within the hospital, I noticed a stark contrast from the psychologist's space. The room appeared remarkably ordinary, and the psychiatrist himself was an aged gentleman. As I entered, he offered a polite greeting and gestured for me to take a seat.

And so, my act began.

"I've been informed about your situation by Doctor Edna, so I'll go over a few questions regarding your feelings and any improvements you may have experienced," he stated matter-of-factly.

I was taken aback, expecting a more comforting and empathetic approach. His straightforward manner made me question his professionalism and left me feeling somewhat uneasy. I had prepared myself for a more challenging endeavor in obtaining the antidepressant medication. However, I couldn't deny that it was actually better for me and my purpose.

With a hint of timidity in my voice, I began to describe the typical emotions and experiences of a depressed teenager. The psychiatrist diligently asked probing questions for around ten minutes before closing his book and delivering his verdict.

"Alright, Dionis, I have heard enough. Your psychologist has already evaluated you, so I won't delve into that. Based on the information I have gathered, I am diagnosing you with depression. You will be prescribed antidepressant medication, which you must take twice a day without missing a single dose."

"What?" I exclaimed, my shock evident. I had expected a lengthy process with countless sessions before receiving a diagnosis.

The psychiatrist responded calmly, "You will be prescribed with an SSRI. Since you are still a teenager, it's best to avoid heavy medications. Now, if you could please provide me with your medical insurance card."

Surprised but compliant, I handed him the card. He scanned it and swiftly typed down some information on his computer before instructing me, "Dionis, go downstairs where you will find a pharmacy. Enter it, and they will provide you with your medication."

"Alright, thank you, sir," I replied with excitement, clutching the card in my hand as I swiftly left his office.

Entering the pharmacy, I approached the counter, where a friendly pharmacist greeted me. "Hello, how can I assist you today, sir?" she asked.

"Hello, I'm here to pick up the medication my doctor prescribed," I responded.

"Oki dookie! Just give me your insurance card," she requested.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure why, before reluctantly handing it over. "The doctor mentioned something about an SSRI, but I may be mistaken," I informed her.

With a chuckle, the pharmacist reassured me, "Hahaha, sir, that's precisely why I took your insurance card. The doctors write down the necessary prescription information on it."

"Ohhh."

She grabbed the medicine and handed it over to me.

Upon returning home, I relished the newfound freedom I had engineered. My parents, now under the impression of my supposed depression, ceased their inquiries and ceased to bother me about attending school. Skipping classes became a trivial matter as I effortlessly blamed my absence on my fabricated condition.

To maintain the lie, I disposed of two antidepressant pills daily, sneakily discarding them into a nearby river. This meticulous act ensured that my parents, should they inspect the medication bottle, would discover the deceptive illusion of me faithfully "consuming" the prescribed pills. Little did they know, the truth floated away, concealed by the currents, while I continued my deceptive dance undetected.

It's amazing how I turned an unexpected and an unwanted situation into something that benefits me.

A couple of days after the visit of the psychiatrist, while engrossed in my books one evening, I received an unexpected call from Eman. His voice buzzed with excitement as he extended an invitation for me to join him and our friends, emphasizing a Tekken tournament accompanied by drinks and food.

"Yo, Dionis! It's been a while since we've hung out. Come over, my parents are out today, all the boys are here. We're chilling and planning to have a Tekken tournament. Drinks, food, the whole deal. Come on, bro!"

I responded with an excited tone, "Hell yea, I'm coming!" before promptly ending the call.

I headed straight to Eman's house, and upon opening the door, I was greeted by the presence of all my men. They excitedly exclaimed, "Boss! Come sit here," making room for me in the center of the couch.

The atmosphere was electric, filled with the camaraderie of friends. Boys were scattered throughout the room—some sitting on the couch, others on the floor, some standing, some screaming, some drinking, some eating, and some engrossed in playing Tekken. We launched into a Tekken tournament, continuing to play through the night and into the morning, until a winner was decided, and it was...

Some background character.

It was around 3AM and all of the boys scattered home leaving me and Eman in his house alone.

"Yo, can I sleep here tonight." I asked, feeling too lazy to walk back home.

"Sure," he replied, glancing around at the mess we had created during the night. "We just need to clean up this shit up."

"Here" Without hesitation, I pulled out a 20-dollar bill from my pocket and offered it to him. "Clean it alone."

"Dude, why do you think everyone and everything can be bought with money?" He asked while picking up the alcohol bottles off the floor.

I shrugged casually. "I don't believe that everything can be bought with money," I remarked dismissively. "The only reason I bother making money is, so I can relieve myself from these tedious tasks."

"Tsk, fine." he muttered, standing up from the floor and grabbing my money out of my hands.

A mischievous thought crept into my mind, accompanied by a wide grin. "See, Eman? You fucking monkey. Everything can be bought with money," I silently taunted, reveling in my perceived superiority as I observed him cleaning up the mess.

After completing the cleaning, Eman instructed me to make myself comfortable and sleep in his parents' bedroom. Eagerly, I entered the room to find a grand king-size bed, which filled me with excitement. Unable to contain my enthusiasm, I couldn't resist the temptation—I leaped onto the bed, relishing the indulgence of its size and softness. The plush mattress and the anticipation of a peaceful night's rest brought a sense of joy and contentment.

laying down on the bed, I stripped down to my underwear, seeking comfort.

I put my phone on the night table charging it and covering myself with the comfortable blanket. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, ready to drift into a peaceful sleep.

[RING] [RING]

Suddenly, the sound of my phone ringing shattered the tranquility of the room.

"Who the fuck is calling me this late. Ugh, this is so annoying," I grumbled, reaching for my phone to see the caller ID.

"Eva? Why the fuck is she calling me so late." I wondered, answering my phone to see what the late-night disturbance was about.