Author's Note: IMPORTANT: I've changed Chapter 28 (chapter before this) several times but finally settled on something. If it has been changed since you last read it, please go back and make sure that you read it or are up to date with the changes. Thank you!
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"Charlotte..." Harry started. I looked up from my homework that I was desperately trying to get done and set it on the coffee table, knowing that I was about to be fully engulfed in a serious conversation. I could tell from the tone in his voice, though I wasn't particularly excited about it. It seemed like lately, our serious talks just brought bad news.
"I think we should consider getting help for you."
"What do you mean by that?" I asked, immediately offended.
"Relax..." he said, slowly, placing a hand on my lower back to comfort me, but it only made things worse. I stiffened and moved farther away from him. "Don't be angry with me without me even explaining. You've had multiple panic attacks every day since the day you came home and not to mention the nightmares..."
"I've always had panic attacks."
"I'm aware, but we both know that they've never happened nearly this often. You and I both know that it has everything to do with what happened with Matt. I honestly just want what's best for you."
"You sound like my parents now."
"Will you at least think about it?"
"What are you suggesting? Checking me into rehab?" I felt completely detached and wanted to stop talking about it. I was fine the way I was. I'd get over it eventually. It would just take time. Just like everything else.
"Not at all, not at all. Is that why you were freaking out so much? I would never consider sending you away... You know that. I'd never do that in a million years. I was thinking something more long the lines of seeing a therapist once a week or as little as going to the doctor to get anxiety medication." he finally explained himself.
"I used to take them when I was younger and it was the antidepressant kind so if I even forgot to take them for one day, I'd immediately feel awful all day long. I don't want to take them anymore. I didn't like it then and I wouldn't like it now."
"I could remind you to take it and besides that, they'd probably give you a different one. They ask what you've taken before and you'll just tell them that you had a bad experience with the antidepressants. I really think that it'd be good for you to try either. Or both. I'd go with you to therapy or the doctor." I'd been so snappy. I knew that I shouldn't bring it up, but I did anyway.
"I didn't suggest that you go to therapy when you didn't feel good." I muttered, sliding to the other end of the couch. As soon as I said it, his hand dropped from my back as if he had just been burned. He bit his lip and his knuckles turned white in a clenched fist. I watched carefully as he tried to calm himself down. "I'm so sorry." I said, honestly, my voice cracking. "I didn't mean to- I just..."
"It's ok." he said, letting out a deep breath but his fist still made it it look like he could punch something at any given moment. "I took medication then and I still do. You went with me plenty of times to get it. I wanted to get better, so I do what I think is best for me and the people around me." he said between breaths. I could tell that he was refraining from saying something horrible to me like I had to him. I felt awful for bringing that up and instantly felt like crying. My heart raced at the sight of his anger and I wanted to go to my room and have a melt down. But I couldn't in front of him. Then he'd insist even more than I go to get what he calls help. As if I can't do it on my own. I put a pillow over my head and sank lower into the couch. I pretended to focus on the TV but I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. I didn't even know what show was on in the first place.
