[color=708090]This day he had an appointment with his new Psychiatrist. A fellow that was recommended by his old one when he told her of his journey to Africa with intention to investigate a tribe that dealt in magic. She assured him that he was all fine and all but in a mentally perfect state. She was just doing a favor to an old friend, helping him with a research thesis he was pursuing. He didn't like the sound of that one bit. Usually, psychologists research different methods of treatments for different conditions, he didn't want to partake in an under-development experimental treatment method. Sharing his concerns with her, she assured him that it was nothing like that, all they would do was talk, as usual. He choose to not insistently decline her proposal ,out of fear of stress levels raising, as she seemed very set on her decision. 

It was raining, better to take an umbrella.

He was just about to leave for the meeting when he noticed that one of his pill bottles was missing. He hadn't restocked on his pill supply last week. How could he have made such a blunder? He hurried to the close by drug store only to get in and find the usual counter guy missing. James was his name and for some money he had arranged with him to get drugs without prescription. But this new girl, he had never seen her before. Approaching her he started:[b]"Good evening to you. Is James here?"[/b]-and she replied with a smile-[color=39b54a]"No, he couldn't attend the store today, I heard one of his family members died."[/color]-then she added-[color=39b54a]"But I can help you with anything that you need."[/color]
No, no she couldn't. Would he try to insinuate that he needed drugs that he didn't have a prescription for? No, what if she told his psychiatrist? They might as well put him back in the mental institution. Given that was a bit of a stretch but you never know...
[b]"I just need something for a light headache."[/b]- he said as the girl opened a box, pulled a tablet and gave it to him. Paying her, he gave a courteous "thanks" and left.
[b]"Useless bitch."[/b]

Now with no other options he went to the local dealer. He used him in his early days, before bribing the good doctor. 3 words ringed through his ears:[color=f26522]"Don't have any."[/color]
[b]"No, you don't understand, I need it."[/b]
[color=f26522]"They all do."[/color]
[b]"I don't think you get what I'm saying here."[/b]-he said menacingly while lifting the skinny man up by the front of his hoodie.
One punch to the gut and a kick while he was down later:[color=f26522]"Next time you show your face around here, I'll cut you up. You [b]get[/b] me?"[/color]-he said as he pulled out a pocket knife and flipped it open for the man to see. While he was down, the dealer got his wallet, took his money and gave him another kick before leaving, purposefully stepping on the umbrella, breaking it. Some time later he got up, picked up his wallet, not giving a second glance to his broken umbrella before heading to the location of his meeting.

The rain was barely noticeable as it fell on his skin, wet his hair and drenched his clothes. He was wearing a grey jacket, a white shirt, black pants tied with a belt and shoes. His gaze was becoming more erratic by the minute as he tried to calm himself down. It was still following him, in the corner, staying behind him ready to tear him apart. No, if it could do that it would've done so long ago. It was powerless, all it could do was be. But tell that to his shivering body, and it wasn't acting so because of the cold rain, it was a different kind of coldness. He entered the building trying to distract himself by paying attention to the little things. Counting the tiles...there were no tiles on the floor, only a smooth surface. Counting the doors? Reading the words on their side, looking around, anything to distract his mind and partially forget. Then, somewhere along the way, he got the idea to count his steps til he reached the room.
"1, 2, 3......"
Now he was before the door that lead inside to the meeting. He could hear people talking. Outside the door, to the side was a board with fainted scribbles from past notes. At the top right corner he noticed the partially erased symbol that stuck out like a thorn to his side. Most likely just a random drawing from one of the patients that visited here.

Taking a look at himself, he fixed his hair, straightened his clothes, cleaned the mud stuck to the side of his jacket and jeans from when he "fell" to the ground earlier. Checked that everything about him was presentable and normal looking and went forth.

As he was about to take a step forward he stopped. What was the number again? He lost count. Going with the momentum now he focused on remembering the number as he stepped into the room with a slight smile on his lips.
[b]"Good evening doctor."[/b]-he started as he took notice of the other people-[b]"Apologies for being late, broken umbrella."[/b]
He took a seat between the doctor and the farthest patient from him.
[b]Yes, I think the number was 100 and something.[/b]
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