You have your first appointment with your new psychiatrist on the fourth day. As Nurse Harley leads you to the office, you wonder what exactly he's going to want out of you. How similar will he be to the last psychiatrist?
"Here's Dr. Lalonde's office. Good luck!"
You enter the office tentatively. A slim blond woman sits at a dark wood desk. The slightest of smiles crosses her lavender lips. You correct your earlier pronoun choice. How similar will she be to your last psychiatrist?
"Good morning, Mr. Captor."
Her voice is smooth and rich, with a soothing element. Somehow, though, part of her strikes you as ominous. You sit down in an armchair.
"Let's begin with getting to know each other a bit better, shall we?" she inquires.
"Uh, okay," you say nervously.
"Good." She smiles again. "I'm Dr. Rose Lalonde, and I am a liscensed psychiatrist. I enjoy knitting, writing, and I have always had an interest in grimdark lore. And you, Sollux?"
"Well, um, you know my name..." You run your tongue across your braces. "What'th 'grimdark'?"
"Grimdark lore involves creatures of mysterious and dark origins. Quite fascinating, the legends of F'thulu."
You don't know what to say to this. Dr. Lalonde seems really weird.
"Okay. I'm Tholluckth Captor. I have chronic migraineth and bipolar dithorder, and uh..." You pause. You hate this part; it always sounds so cliché.
"I have voitheth in my head."
To your surprise, Dr. Lalonde doesn't blink an eye. "Yes, I am aware. But what are your interests and hobbies? What occupies your spare time?"
"Oh," you say simply. "Uh, well, mothtly lying in bed with the shadeth down."
"You seem rather insistent to talk about your mental health. What did you do before your mental health issues began interfering with your daily life?"
"I programmed computerth." You feel a pang in your chest. You really miss that.
"Oh? What sort of programs?" Dr. Lalonde raises an eyebrow, almost comically.
"Well, I wrote a lot of virutheth. I chatted online thome. I helped people fickth thtuff."
"Interesting," she says. "So when did your mental state begin interfering with your daily life?"
You think back. "Like, June?"
"Now, how did this affect your schoolwork?"
"I wath medically exthempt from the retht of the term. But it kinda went to crap before that." Why are you opening up so much to this woman?
"I see. When were you diagnosed with bipolar disorder?" she types something in on a laptop.
"Don't you already have my mental hithtory?" you ask.
"Yes, but I prefer to hear it from you."
"Fine. I wath thickth."
"Do you feel that this diagnosis suits you?" She lifts her head from typing and stares you directly in the eyes with big eyes that match her pale magenta lips.
You think. "Unfortunately, yeth."
"So you've been to a psychiatrist before, I understand?"
She is curt and formal, her posture flawless. You feel a bit sloppy next to her in your roomy t-shirt and jeans. You scuff your mismatched sneakers against the linoleum. You've always had a thing for twos, particularly since being diagnosed as having two poles of mood.
"Yeah, I had my latht appointment with him a couple of weekth ago."
"Have you been in therapy before? I feel that I must note, though I have a doctorate, I am primarily a therapist here. I do still prescribe medication, however."
"Uh, not really. Too much money for both."
"I see. That's unfortunate. I have seen therapy really help people with a similar diagnosis to yours."
You shift uncomfortably in your seat. You really hate talking about your mental problems, but obviously you're going to have to with Dr. Lalonde.
"Do we uh, have to talk about thith?" you ask.
"Not at all. In fact, as I said, you seem rather insistent to talk about your mental health."
You sigh.
"We don't have to talk at all, if you prefer. Talking will further your progress, yes, but it is not in any way necessary."
After an exhausting appointment, you head to lunch. Karkat is sitting alone as usual, and you pull a seat up to his table, as usual. Karkat turns his head and glares at you.
"Hey, assbag, did you notice how there were no open seats here? Did you not even stop to consider that maybe that was on purpose?"
You chuckle. Kk somehow always cheers you up, even with the yelling mixed with growling way he talks. Your laughter just agitates him more, but his agitation causes you to laugh more.
Kanaya then pulls over a chair. "Mind if I sit here, Karkat, Sollux?" she asks in her clipped, precise manner.
Karkat, munching his sandwich, shakes his head without looking up. Kanaya sets her tray down and sits. For some reason, Karkat doesn't seem to mind her.
"So, Sollux," she says, turning to you. "How is Skaia for you so far? Are you finding it to be a good fit?"
You nod. "Yeah, it'th okay. The people here are really interethting."
Kanaya laughed, a short, breathy titter. "Yes, we certainly are."
Karkat finished his lunch and strode away, leaving his chair askew. You watched him go, and then looked at Kanaya. She seemed unconcerned, hands clasped in her lap.
"Ith he alwayth like thith?" you ask her.
"Usually, yes. He's not really a 'people person,' so to speak. I think he has trouble with them."
You sip your soda. "Uh, thorry if thith ith rude, but why are you here? You theem pretty chill."
"Oh, um..." Kanaya's clasped hands tighten.
"Thorry, you don't have to tell me," you apologize.
"No, it's okay," she says, breathing deeply. "I have anxiety about mundane things. I uh," Kanaya pauses, taking a deep breath. "I locked myself in my room after being rejected, and after an awful panic attack I... cut my hair."
You look at her dark cropped hair. You had always assumed that Kanaya's hair was like that as a chic fashion statement.
"I had beautiful wavy hair," sighs Kanaya. "It was long and perfectly sleek. Fortunately, my mother was able to fix my hair into this, but I still feel like I've lost a part of my identity." Her thin lips have bent into a frown.
"Thorry, Kn, that really thuckth," you murmur uncomfortably. You don't know what to say to this hysterical dame.
You don't have to know, because a wave of calm washes over Kanaya.
"Well, anyhow, it's all in the past now," she says with a smile. "Now it is my turn. What are you here for?"
"Bipolar dithorder," you say without missing a beat. "And voitheth in my head. Nothing too exthiting."
"On the contrary," says Kanaya. "One could argue that voices in your head are fascinating."
"Um, well, the thtuff they put me on blockth it out a little. They jutht talk about death a lot. It'th kind of deprething."
"Huh," says Kanaya. "Have you always had these voices?"
"Yeah," you say. "Ath long ath I can remember. It'th like the lithp. It'th a part of me, I gueth."
"Would you be sad to lose those things?" she asks, running a slim hand through her hair."
"No," you say, completely sure. "They thuck."
Your appointment with Dr. Lalonde is right after lunch. You storm in and slump in the armchair like you always do. You clutch at your sleeves out of habit, even though she already knows what they hide.
"Good afternoon, Karkat," she says. You grunt in reply.
"How is your new roommate? I met with him this morning, you know."
"He's kind of a dumpass," you sigh.
"Why is that?" she asks, folding her hands on her desk.
"I don't know, he has these bullshit voices in his head."
"Yes, he does."
"I dunno," you mutter. "Newbies are idiots."
"Karkat, don't forget how you came in here."
How could you? The memory burns in your mind. Slashing the razor through your veins, the pain, shit, the pain, and so much fucking blood... you passed out. You woke up in the hospital with your wrists wrapped up tight and a horde of doctors around your bed. They questioned you, forgetting the meanings of "personal" and "private".
The suicide watch that followed was agonizing. No one believed that you wouldn't do it again. The disappointed look in your dad's eyes, along with all that hurt pained you more than anything.
You came to Skaia with heavily bandaged wrists hidden under your sleeves. You started seeing Dr. Lalonde and were put on antidepressants. Things got so much better. You can finally breathe again without worrying that you will have to hurt yourself. It isn't perfect yet, but as Dr. Lalonde says, you're making progress.
"I was a mess," you finally say.
It's taken you four months to get to where you are now. You're a lucky one. Some of the other patients have been here far longer. Like Gamzee.
"Don't forget that he's just beginning recovery. Show some empathy, Karkat."