"Ah!" Mal screamed loudly as she shot up from her bed. Covered in an ocean of sweat from head to toe, Mal breathed in and out harshly until she was able to gain control of her breathing again. It was at this moment that she remembered that she wasn't in any harm, again, she relaxed and laid down in her bed. She rubbed her face whilst groaning loudly.

"Stupid week." She muttered.

The entire week has been a nightmare. Worse than any nightmare than she's ever had in her life. She felt all the pain claw into her skin and slowly drag itself up from her toes to her brain; creeping on her every second of every day. She shook as she violently rocked back and forth from one side to the other side, biting her mouth to prevent a roaring scream.

She rolled her self to the other side of her bed competently and hunched over, feeling the puke from her stomach fly up her throat and now out of her mouth and into the bucket. Everything from dinner fell into the bucket, including the red velvet ice cream that she had binged on before bed. When she felt that it was all out of her system and into her bucket Mal sat up and walked into her bathroom with the bucket. She dumped it, washed it out, then washed her face and chugged down a cup of water.

*knock knock * "Mal? Are you in here?"

"Yeah," Mal answered. "Why Ben?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Ben walked into the bathroom and found his pale girlfriend looking more sickly than the past few days. "Everything okay?"

"Sure." She muttered.

Ben felt her forehead. "You feel a little hot."

"Maybe another fever."

"You've had a lot lately," Ben said. "I don't think it's a fever."

Mal moaned. "Maybe it's just a reaction. I had another nightmare."

Ben sighed. "Again?" She nodded. "Mal, it's been an entire week."

"I know," She said sternly. She turned around and opened the cabinet to pull out a clear bag that read MAL ONLY! TOUCH IT AND FEEL MY RANGE! She opened the bag and pulled out her two bottles.

"Is that your medicine?"

"Yeah," She said as she poured them out. She had to take four for her depression and four for her anxiety.

Ben counted them each and became worried. "Mal, that's too much."

"No it's not. It's the amount I need." Mal explained.

"Oh, really?" Ben was unsure.

"Yeah stupid. Three and three," She said just as she was about to swallow the first five anxiety pills.

Ben snatched them from her hand and said, "Mal, you poured out too many. Look," He held them out for her to study.

Mal counted the pills in his hands. Five. Then she counted the ones in her hands. Five. "Okay, so I would take one extra. Big deal?"

"Mal, even one pill can cause an overdose. Maybe not all the time; but never good to take a chance."

"Geeze," Mal slammed her head with her hand. "I guess I'm not awake as much as I thought I was. Thanks," She said and placed the few she didn't need back into her bottles.

Ben recounted and said, "Don't you take two each?"

"I've gotten an increase." Mal said. "Now it's four and four."

"Why so much?"

"Just...emotional things," She said, but avoided eye contact. She swallowed her medicine and drank a cup of water.

"Do they help at least?" Ben questioned.

"Sometimes." Mal answered. "I think I need more, but the doctor I go to tells me that she doesn't want to increase it so much in a short amount of time. She's afraid that I'll end up becoming too dependent on them and might be addictive to them when I'm unsubscribed one day. Plus, it's just going to cost more and more and I'd rather save what I can for other things. Like holiday shopping, bills, grocery shopping and other things."

"You pay bills?"

"Yeah. I help pay for the castle bills," She smiled sheepishly. "The guy who pays them didn't take it at first but I end up having to convince him that I'm use to paying bills and that I feel bad for not helping. Seriously though if the castle here has an issue, shove it."

"Geeze, okay," Ben chuckled. "I guess the same goes to Mrs. Potts when she goes food shopping every once in a while?"

"Yes. Plus extra if I ask her for specific things." She said.

Ben nodded. He always knew she was good in her heart and nice, but he didn't think that she was this good. Not even he had an idea about giving money to either the accountant or Mrs. Potts for their well doing; they already had payments from his parents for the time being.

He brought the attention back to Mal and her medicine. "Well I can understand her reason for not giving more in a short period of time. It might be too much."

Mal heard those words and shouted, "But it's too much already! I can't keep up with these nightmares and emotions that come with it and these pills are helping me, Ben! They are! But I need more to help me block it out completely."

"Mal," Ben said softly.

"No!" She shouted. "I want to get better! I want to forget that night! I don't want to remember Gasper freaking raping me. I just want to forget it all!"

"Mal," Ben tried to help soothe her, but Mal's range of anger took over.

"Honestly I hate that! I hate he was my first and I hate that I can't that stupid moment out of my head!" She yelled, echoing the bathroom, and pulling her hair tightly. "I freaking hate this!"

Ben took hold of her into a hug and guided her back to her bedroom. Ben sat on her on the bed and then keeled in front of her and held her wrists. "Mal," He whispered gently. "Take a deep breathe."

"I am calm!"

"I said take a deep breathe."

Mal took one.

"Good...now exhale."

She exhaled.

"Do that several more times, slowly."

Mal did so. After at least eight or nine time; she was soothed down. "Okay. I'm okay."

"Good," He smiled. "Mal, what happened to you that night with Gasper doesn't count as a first. It never counts as a first. Second, I know that your medicine helps you with your mental and emotional trauma to what happened, but I think talking to someone will help you."

"I have been talking." She sighed.

"With who?"

"You."

"Oh...Well, yes, that's good." Ben smiled. "But I'm not a professional; I can only help so much. I meant maybe talk to a therapist—"

Mal slapped Ben hard across the face. "I am not a nutcase!"

"Seeing a therapist doesn't mean you're a nutcase. It doesn't mean that your crazy, Mal. I just meant that talking to someone who can help you better with this."

"Oh, so the damn therapist been raped and knows what I'm going through?"

"No, maybe not. But it's part of their job to help guide you."

"I don't need it, I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say you were crazy."

"Suggesting an idiot who thinks she knows everything about me, makes me think you should talk to her." Mal said as she crossed her arms. "I don't need a nut doctor."

"Okay," Ben said. "But I think it'll help you."

"Whatever."

1 Week Later.

Mal stood outside Ben's door and knocked. Ben opened the door to find his frail, fatigued and overly worked girlfriend. "What's up?"

"Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Can you help me find a woman therapist?"

I'm almost done with this story! :(