Small Scenes Through These Equalizer Steps.
Chapter One.
Jacklyn stared at the barren wall, chipped white paint looking a bit yellowish. And the wall seemed to stare back. She couldn’t stand it anymore. The pills had taken their effect, that was for sure. Overdose warnings blurred until they disappeared completely. Perfect.
Fuck. A strand of her dirty blonde hair kept coming loose from her black and white striped headband. It annoyed the shit out of her. There should have been no distractions. It was like trying to focus on a blue sky with the sun shimmering just enough to absorb anyone in its view.
The wait was easily decided but the pain was a thinker. Sedatives were supposed to help but there really was such a thing as too much.
Her mother has asked why she wanted everything out of her room. Jacklyn Hale could only say one thing.
“It’s my room, so my decision. That was the deal, right?” even to herself, her voice sounded arrogant and irritated. She had shoved her hands into her hoodie and walked away, leaving her mother to stumble on were she went wrong.
May Cause Liver Damage: the words gradually emerge from the left corner to the edge of the right wall. Her sapphire eyes searched the cautionary for the actual valid information. A small malfunction in the liver was nothing, to her.
But she wasn’t so sure about it after all. Jacklyn had searched for endless bottles of medication. Claritin, Aleve, Tylenol, Motrin, Benadryl, nothing there. She even paid a visit to corner shops and derelict gasoline stations for imitations. Empty as well.
There has to be some fucking pill with a severe death caution.
That thought quickly passed through her substandard drugged mentality. But of course, she always did seem to stagger upon some very fucked up beliefs. Life was meant to be enjoyed, to the actual limit. Risks were arranged to be taken, though chances were mainly welcoming failure. Adrenaline moments to her weren’t enough. The sensation needed to be longer, to the point were it was so incessant, you‘d break down completely.
“Russian Roulette is a simple game. Too simple for that matter.” she reflected back on her options. The only thing that was skipped in the process was safety.
She played with the stitching on the sleeve of her hoodie. A tiny thread was misplaced, sewn on too far down. Before pulling at it, Jacklyn felt a slightly stronger vertigo.
Yes, it was effective. She slumped in her chair, the walls staring back once more. This time, the immediate spread of a silver hue encircled her eyes. She witnessed spots and blots, as if a picture was recently taken suddenly on full flash.
Holy shit.
There was something she didn’t expect. Was it normal for deficiency of breath? Hyperventilation, that was the word. Why did she feel so friggin’ lightheaded? It was more than a straightforward headache. This was fatality.
Reminiscences of euphoric childhood moments passed. They seemed to die away, taking her brain cells along for a ride. Guitar lessons, a first A+, talent shows, presidential speeches, no matter how small, it all left.
“You used to love music and writing. What happened there?” The only thing she could think of was of her failure and everyone’s reactions to it. Even some commentaries were left before the whole incident. Something did happen along the way. Pressure and anxiety was just the beginning.
And the lies keep on giving.
Fuck. A strand of her dirty blonde hair kept coming loose from her black and white striped headband. It annoyed the shit out of her. There should have been no distractions. It was like trying to focus on a blue sky with the sun shimmering just enough to absorb anyone in its view.
The wait was easily decided but the pain was a thinker. Sedatives were supposed to help but there really was such a thing as too much.
Her mother has asked why she wanted everything out of her room. Jacklyn Hale could only say one thing.
“It’s my room, so my decision. That was the deal, right?” even to herself, her voice sounded arrogant and irritated. She had shoved her hands into her hoodie and walked away, leaving her mother to stumble on were she went wrong.
May Cause Liver Damage: the words gradually emerge from the left corner to the edge of the right wall. Her sapphire eyes searched the cautionary for the actual valid information. A small malfunction in the liver was nothing, to her.
But she wasn’t so sure about it after all. Jacklyn had searched for endless bottles of medication. Claritin, Aleve, Tylenol, Motrin, Benadryl, nothing there. She even paid a visit to corner shops and derelict gasoline stations for imitations. Empty as well.
There has to be some fucking pill with a severe death caution.
That thought quickly passed through her substandard drugged mentality. But of course, she always did seem to stagger upon some very fucked up beliefs. Life was meant to be enjoyed, to the actual limit. Risks were arranged to be taken, though chances were mainly welcoming failure. Adrenaline moments to her weren’t enough. The sensation needed to be longer, to the point were it was so incessant, you‘d break down completely.
“Russian Roulette is a simple game. Too simple for that matter.” she reflected back on her options. The only thing that was skipped in the process was safety.
She played with the stitching on the sleeve of her hoodie. A tiny thread was misplaced, sewn on too far down. Before pulling at it, Jacklyn felt a slightly stronger vertigo.
Yes, it was effective. She slumped in her chair, the walls staring back once more. This time, the immediate spread of a silver hue encircled her eyes. She witnessed spots and blots, as if a picture was recently taken suddenly on full flash.
Holy shit.
There was something she didn’t expect. Was it normal for deficiency of breath? Hyperventilation, that was the word. Why did she feel so friggin’ lightheaded? It was more than a straightforward headache. This was fatality.
Reminiscences of euphoric childhood moments passed. They seemed to die away, taking her brain cells along for a ride. Guitar lessons, a first A+, talent shows, presidential speeches, no matter how small, it all left.
“You used to love music and writing. What happened there?” The only thing she could think of was of her failure and everyone’s reactions to it. Even some commentaries were left before the whole incident. Something did happen along the way. Pressure and anxiety was just the beginning.
And the lies keep on giving.