#amt

I was running low on medication again.

Fuck.

And for some reason, this was a "good thing" to Noemie. Saying it'd stop me from overdosing. But she didn't get to dictate what the fuck I did, neither did Carrie, who of course had to fucking agree with her.

So now I was here, rummaging through an abandoned pharmacy, with my thoughts racing a mile a minute and sweat running down my forehead. Sure, I was going through withdrawal, but it didn't matter.

It never mattered. I just needed this to be gone. I needed this feeling of emptiness, of worthlessness, of just utter despair to go away. I had been looking for my sister for months. Months. And no signs of her had came up.

I was beginning to think she was dead.

And maybe I was about to be too. I eventually located an orange bottle, but growled when I realised it was empty.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I can't fucking take this. I just.

I can't.

My hands trembled as my vision blurred, my head spinning. Everything was going wrong. Everything.

Then something snapped.

I grabbed the nearest bottle.

It was full.

Oh my God it was full.

I forced it open, the plastic nearly splitting under the force of my hand. I downed all the pills.

Then I realised.

I made a big fucking mistake.

My darting eyes focused on the label.

Xanax.

I just took a full bottle of Xanax.

I stumbled on my feet as the overdose took effect almost immediately. Oh fuck. I was going to die, wasn't I?

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I don't want to die.