Character belongs to Disney I guess, but they're pretty abstract in this story.
The bottle taunted her from across the room. It was so small in her field of view, but it seemed to comprise her entire world. The brown liquid inside remained motionless, yet it managed to call out to her, inviting her to take just a sip. To lose herself in its warm embrace and float in a world of half consciousness. As alluring as the idea was, she knew there would be repercussions. The headache that would end her floaty journey was a slight drawback, reminding her of her body's quarrel with the seductive substance. But that would be the tip of this siren's iceberg.
Following the headache would be a period of even more intense self-criticism than she was accustomed to. Why couldn't she face her problems like anyone else? Why did she feel the need to run away from them instead? Why was she so weak that she sought out some outside influence to secure some fleeting moments of peace? Why couldn't she seek help? Most people said that the hardest part is admitting that you have a problem, why couldn't she follow through with what was supposed to be the easy part: finding help? Why would she rather wallow in self-pity than find a solution to the problems that prevented her from living?
Next would come a period of self-doubt. Would she ever be able to escape the seductive power of the liquid before her? Would she ever be able to be strong enough to face her own problems instead of hiding behind a curtain of inebriation? Would she ever be able to seek the help she so obviously needed, or would she remain in this pitiful state indefinitely? The downward spiral of her thoughts sunk her even further into the abyss, causing her to desire a release even more intensely than before.
She knew she would not need much, only a couple of pulls before she would be able to find some temporary escape in the dark, nebulous sensation of inebriation. She had hardly eaten anything all day: a banana around noon and some popcorn sometime during the evening comprised the day's nourishment. The liquid would seep through her like quicksilver, penetrating her being with such elusive totality in frightening brevity. Before long she would be unfit to perform most motor functions, and she would probably lie down and simply let the feeling wash over her.
Elsa stands up.
A few silent tears fall from Elsa's eyes as she approaches the bottle.
Elsa begins to creep towards it slowly.
The sight of the bottle growing before her is enough to make Elsa unstable.
As Elsa reaches her destination, the bottle loomes before her, a monolith to her shrunken form.
Elsa sighes once she reaches it. She knows it is irrational, but any price was worth it to escape for a few fleeting hours. To feel somewhat normal for a painfully temporary period of time.
Elsa takes off the lid and brings the bottle to her lips.
AN: Thanks for reading. Wasn't sure to make this T or M, decided on M for safety. Leave a review if you want to. Also, if you liked this, consider listening to the song Medicine Bottle by Red House Painters. It's not super related, but it's a good song.
This is probably going to be a one-shot, but I might continue it if I feel the inspiration to do so.