Happy Pills – by Shanna

“Give me a break,” said Fred, as he turned towards his tormenter. “Why do you insist on causing me so much pain?”

Fred sat down at the table, too exhausted to stand. He felt like he had been stuck in this argument for months, a never-ending circle of anguish and distress. “We’ve been over this a million times. You, being here, is not helping me.” Fred longed for the days past, before he had made his decision, before everything had changed. It had all seemed so simpler then.

He opened his eyes from where he had squeezed them shut. “I don’t understand why you do this to me,” he whispered. “Why you just stay there and say nothing while I suffer.”

Fred swallowed and felt his eyes begin to sting and water. “No, no I’m not going to cry. I’ve cried too much over you.” He shook his head and pushed his fingers up against his eyes to try to stop the tears from running down his face.

“I just, I don’t get it,” he cried. “I thought we had an agreement. I thought everything was fine between us.”

Fred took a breath and slowly let it out, trying to reign in his feelings. He knew that lately he had been a little overemotional, but he couldn’t help it. He knew that his friends often had to watch what they said in his presence; one wrong word and Fred could go from being on top of the highest mountain to being buried under 20 feet of garbage. But he was trying, honest he was! Fred knew that the new pills the doctor had prescribed were working to help regulate his reactions. In fact today was the first day that he had felt any emotions in a week. Fred knew that if he just kept swallowing those little white special pills, that he would conquer his troubles in no time.

“I’m just having a setback,” he thought. “A minor setback.”

Fred wiped his eyes and stared straight ahead. “You just can’t help but torment me. I was doing fine,” he said. “Look at me!”

Fred jumped up from his chair. “Look at what I’ve accomplished,” he cried as he spread his arms wide and spun in a circle. He stopped and his arms fell down to hang limp at his sides. He dropped back down into his chair and sighed.

“But then you had to go and show up, looking so beautiful. You know how hard it is to resist you.”

Fred sighed again and scrubbed at his face, wiping the tear tracks away. “Fine,” he said. “You win.” He leaned out over the side of the table, opened the drawer, and reached in.

“You win,” he whispered again as he pulled out a fork and attacked the chocolate cake sitting on the table before him.

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About bbcstudiowrites

This blog is me archiving the BBC Studio Writers Workshop.

Posted on May 7, 2013, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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