Heavy Heart

The bottle was on the counter, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it.

She was afraid of what might come out.

She let her mind wander as she sat on the edge of the bathtub, her bare, sweaty thighs sticking to the fiberglass. Goosebumps formed as she reached for the bottle, afraid that a ghost of Jane was hiding beneath the child-proof cap. Her hands were shaky as she opened it and placed it to her right, grabbing the glass of water she’d left on the counter. She took a small sip of it, making sure to keep it in her mouth. She picked out a single pill and placed it on her tongue, trying to find the courage to swallow it.

It felt heavier than it should have, like she’d slid a magnet between her lips. She wondered what it felt like to have your mom put up your artwork on the refrigerator, what it felt like to have an honest home where you always felt safe enough to cry and talk and love. Where, after a bad day, you could rest and not feel so foreign you were afraid to put your feet up or make a mess in the kitchen.

The smooth, film coating began to swear off, so Quinn took a deep breath and swallowed. Jane and Tyler were breathing down her neck, their whispers seeping through her skin, settling in her bones and blood. She shivered twice, and instead of backing out and getting help, she let their lull overcome her.

Water, pill, cry, swallow, repeat.