Fake (A Pretty Pill) by Criss Copp

package came via courier a week ago.” she says, bending down and collecting up a box from her feet.  “I know they had a hold on their mail, but this was a courier delivery, so I signed for it and kept it safe.” she smiles.
    I reach across and grab up the box.  I thank her and then turn in order to return to Ben, Jade and little Ben.  I’m mere steps away from the vehicle when I realize what I’m looking at.
    It’s a package from Australia.
    I turn it over.
    I really wish I hadn’t done that.
    It’s from Shae.
    “Fuck, Ben; take that box from Silas, fucking take it off him now.” Jade begins softly and then is screaming, while holding little Ben in his baby seat basket.
    I must show an intense fear and pain across my face, beca use I’m completely paralyzed; staring at the box and then back at my family.  The edge of my sight is a little blurred.
    Ben is trying to pry my fingers from the box, which is now shaking roughly in my hands.
    “Jesus; is it too much to ask for a fucking break?” Ben laments, looking at the box and seeing Shae’s handwritten name scrawled in the sender section.
    “Don’t swear in front of Ben.” I squeak at them both quietly before everything goes blank.
     
    ***
     
    I’ve woken this morning feeling like shit. 
    My surroundings are nice, but I’m so angry about seeing that package from Shae yesterday, because it made me feel so unstable that I want to destroy the furniture.  I look over at the clock and realize that I’ve slept in.  Damn, I have a therapy session this morning.  I drag my hands through my hair, pulling at the roots in an attempt to release some angst.  I groan into the nothingness.
    This new place is like being in your own home.  But all the safety features are obvious to me.  They don’t want a suicide on their hands and who can blame them; but it’s funny that they’re better equipped than many of the acute facilities I normally see the inside of.  And they’re a transitional facility.
    I get up and drag on some jeans and a t-shirt.  I pu ll on some sneakers and head out to the nursing station; situated in the middle of the building. 
    The moment I step out of my room, it no longer appears like a home and more like a hotel.  However, the color schemes and ambience are still very nice.  They even have art on the walls.
    I pass a young girl, who gives me a shy smile as she shuffles to a room three doors down from mine and merges inside it.  Like all the facilities I’ve been in; this one is also non-gender specific.  This girl, however, doesn’t even look old enough to be here, but she has to be at least 18 to be situated here.
    I walk up to the desk that looks a little like a concierge desk and announce myself to a male staff member behind it.
    “Hi, I’m Silas Tayte.  I’m meant to have a morning therapy session at ten.” I explain.
    “Silas, how are you?  I’m Ethan.” He says, reaching across the desktop and shaking my hand.  “Your therapy session won’t be until this afternoon now.  Jean, the psychiatrist, had a family emergency and had to leave.  So, you now have a morning to yourself.  Go to the dining room and grab a bite to eat if you like.  Did you have your medications?” he asks.
    “I just took them.” I explain.  Someone had left them on my bedside table in a little cup.   I’m surprised they didn’t wake me up when they entered my room.
    “Oh, okay.  We like our patients to have their morning medications before breakfast time, but whoever was on this morning must’ve felt you were too tired to wake you.  I’ll chase that up, they’re protocols here and we’re supposed to witness you take your meds in order to sign them off.” he smiles; it’s forced, because it’s obvious he’s a bit pissed.
    I feel like there’s something a little off abou t this guy, but I suppose he’s okay.  I think about grabbing something from the dining room and then I dismiss the idea and decide to eat the piece of