Why Don't I Like Girls Anymore?

7:15p.m.

That had to be one of the most nerve racking moments of my life.

I locked my door, but I still felt like someone could break the door down and catch me at any time.

Firstly I checked his suitcase.

I opened it quickly, my hands shaking, and searched each compartment thoroughly.

Most of what I could see were clothes and toiletries.

A few old paperback books, a spare pair of shoes...

A letter.

I didn't dare touch the letter, though my curiosity begged me to open it.

That wasn't what I was there to get.

I checked everywhere I could possibly think of, every little pocket and every crevice.

I couldn't find any pills.

Then I checked the few pieces of clothing he had hung up on one side of the wardrobe.

Nothing.

Not knowing where else to look, I re-arranged all of his things and closed up his suitcase.

Then I sat on his bed and sighed.

Then it hit me.

The mattress!

I lifted it up and found what I was looking for.

A small transparent tube of pills was balanced on one of the wooden boards supporting the bed.

They were completely unmarked, immediately making them suspicious.

I took them, the tube burning into my jeans pocket, and unlocked the door.

I swept the room with my eyes, checking that everything was back to normal, and left the room.

So there was a definite possibility that these pills were the ones that he used to drug me.

How could he have slipped me them though?

Probably sometime during dinner, seeming as I passed out after that.

He could have dissolved one in my drink...

It makes sense, he was the one who brought the drinks through.

But... there could be another explanation.

I can't just assume that's what he did.

Sure, the evidence is pointing in that direction, but it doesn't necessarily mean he did it.

I'm just going to have to confront him again, it's the only way.

9p.m.

It would help if he was home.

10:45p.m.

It seems that he's going to be late home again. I want to go to sleep, but I must talk to him about this. And it'll be better if the others are asleep anyway.

12a.m.

This is ridiculous!

I can feel my eyes closing, but I have to stay awake!

1:10a.m.

He finally came back about forty minutes ago.

He loped into the room, not stinking of alcohol this time, and stopped when he saw me sitting on my bed with the pills in my hand.

"Why have you got those?" he asked guardedly and I stood up.

"It doesn't matter why I have them. What are they? What do you use them for?" My questions spilled out in my haste to get answers.

Jay looked away, obviously not wanting to give me answers.

"Did you use them on me?" I was getting angry not, unable to control the volume of my voice very well.

"On you? What are you talking about?" He asked innocently. I couldn't tell if it was feigned or not.

"You know what I'm talking about, Jay. Did you use these to make me pass out?" I asked again, my voice a low hiss.

"No, I swear, those aren't what you think they are." He walked towards me but I held one arm out.

"Stay away from me." I said, panicked, and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes were on the pills, he desperately wanted them back.

"You don't understand-"

"Then tell me so I do understand!" I snapped, my hand holding the bottle of pills tightly.

Jay sighed and lowered his head, defeated.

"Those are my anti-depressants." he said, ashamed.

I nearly dropped the bottle.

"Anti... depressants?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"Yes, now give them back!" he pleaded.

"How do I know you're not lying?" I was still suspicious, not quite believing him.

Jay thought for a moment, and then had an idea.

"I'll take one now and you'll see that it won't make me pass out. That'll be evidence enough, right?"

I opened the stopper on the pills and handed him one.

He brushed my hand when he took the little tablet off my palm and it sent electric volts up my spine.

He then placed the pill on his tongue and swallowed without need of a drink.

He opened his mouth wide so I could see the pill had been swallowed.

"Now we just wait." he said calmly and sat on his bed.

I sat on mine and watched him the entire time.

About twenty minutes passed and nothing had happened.

"See?" he said and I nodded grudgingly. He was right.

"Why are you on anti-depressants anyway?" I asked before thinking about the question properly.

Jay turned away, getting into bed.

"I don't want to talk about that." he said quietly.

I felt like an idiot then, asking such a personal question so offhandedly.

I've just turned off the bedside light and gotten into bed myself, too tired to care that Jay was in the same room as me.

Good night, diary.