Problems

|| Chapter 26 ||

TW: smoking, depressed thoughts and actions, therapy, panic attacks, purging

The first time he takes Venlafaxine it's fine for about an hour.

And then the side effects hit.

The headache comes out of nowhere, slamming into his brain with the force of a wrecking ball. His books clattered to the sidewalk, abandoned, as his hands came up to grip the side of his head.

The pain was all-consuming, a howling crescendo that sent a shiver of pain down his body. Through the noise he could make out the feelings of hands guiding him down the sidewalk as John's voice pushed through the crackling static filling his brain.

"Alex? Alex, you gotta talk to me."

"Hurts," Alex managed to ground out, and he almost sank to the ground from the echoing of his voice up in his head.

"Okay, okay. I got you." John's hands were hesitant and gentle, lightly gripping his waist and arm as he helped Alex stumble down the sidewalk and through their dorms.

Alex didn't really remember the walk up the stairs and down the hallway through the haze of pain, but when they reached their room he was more grateful than he had been in a long time.

His bed was a silent cocoon, and he curled up in the nest of blankets after John pushed Tylenol and a cup of water into his hands. The lights were blissfully shut off, dowsing the room in darkness, and he focused on breathing, counting the seconds until the pain started to subside.

It was over an hour until it faded to a dull ache in the back of his head, but it was so much better than the searing throb it had been.

Alex sat up slowly, and John turned from where he had been seating at his desk, writing notes for his BioChemistry class.

"How do you feel?"

"Better," Alex said tentatively. He was worried that if he spoke too soon, it would descend back upon him.

"You want water?"

"Sure."

John got up and fetched a glass of water from the bathroom. He came back and handed it to Alex. "Why do you think that happened?"

Alex took a sip and paused for a second, "Probably a side effect of my new meds. It should go away in a few days."

John nodded, "Let's hope."

X

It was wrong.

Everything felt wrong.

His thoughts were scattered, incomplete. Nothing was making sense.

Was this what it was like being drugged?

He could see people's mouths moving, hear the words they were saying, but his brain couldn't connect. There was a loose wire somewhere, a broken circuit in the hidden crevices of his brain, and he had no idea how to fix it.

His appetite had disappeared altogether. The idea of food made him nauseous, and whenever he ate anything it tasted bland and disgusting, like copper pennies and mashed potatos.

To add onto the bandwagon of issues, his anxiety was cranked up to 11, dialed to the point where he felt like he was vibrating from the pressure.

Panic attacks now frequented his days, leaving him shaky and exhausted. More than once, he'd left class to go sit in the bathroom and hyperventilate.

At first he thought he'd figured out a solution-if he just ignored his anxiety, if he forced it to the back of his mind, he could deal with it until he got home.