Disclaimer: The characters, places and situations of the Harry Potter series are the property of JK Rowling and other associated companies. Some original characters and plot situations are mine or are derivative of several sources of literature and film too numerous to list. The most influential pieces of fiction are: Trainspotting, Twenty-Eight Days, and Lightning Field, and are the property of their respective authors. The song Broken is the musical property of Seether.
Author's Note: I am in no way meant to be insulting anyone who may read this fiction. I am, for the most part, ignorant of the difficulty of overcoming a dependency on any sort of chemical or alcohol. This story is slightly an alternate universe fiction in which I am exploring two characters and how they might cope under the situation of dependency and rehabilitation. I am not making a statement about addicts in general and do not mean to reflect my own views of these characters as generalization. Having that said, enjoy Anatomy of an Addiction.
Anatomy Of An Addiction
Rehabilitate: re·ha·bil·i·tate
VERB:
Inflected forms: re·ha·bil·i·tat·ed, re·ha·bil·i·tat·ing, re·ha·bil·i·tates
1. To restore to good health or
useful life, as through therapy and education. 2. To restore to good condition, operation, or capacity.
Chapter Four
Downfalls
Draco watched the proceedings at the entrance of the lodge at Serenity Hills with his hands in his pockets. He tried his best to tune out the hopeful sounds of Lean On Me and resisted the urge to ask himself if they really meant it. People who mean things, deep things, holy things. People have passions in life. He did not.
He was safe.
People that meant things. There was a name for them: martyrs.
Flea was leaving.
Served his time and now he was leaving.
They sang to him. It was a sort of understood tradition. Maybe to send him out into the world where he would be tempted to cheat and steal for drugs again, leave him with hope. Generic, manufactured hope, hope sung over and over until its meaning was beaten out of it. Or did Lean On Me ever have any meaning to begin with?
He doubted it.
Flea waved.
Draco made a rude gesture.
He secretly wished him good luck.
Where was Ginny?
This was the sort of sentimental bullshit that she liked.
Or maybe it was just that she tolerated it with more grace than he did.
I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh…
He found that he could tune everything out when he thought of her.
She was a passionate person.
Maybe it was this that made him think of Sally-Anne.
Passion.
She had plenty of it.
It consumed her.
I want to hold you high and steal your pain away…
Pansy stood at the other side of the entrance.
She smiled at him.
Pushing past the singing people and Flea, who was pretending to cry, Draco embraced her. She was an unexpected surprise, a good surprise.
"What the hell is that?" she asked removing her sunglasses.
Draco laughed. "They're saying goodbye. My roommate's sentence is up."
Pansy sneered. "I would love to see you on the receiving end of that song. Fucking hilarious."
Draco shook his head. "How's Blaise doing?"
"Using more," she answered, squinting at the late morning sun. "I think it's all really bothering him. You think he'll do the same thing?"
"What? As Sally-Anne? No." Draco was definite about that. "He's afraid of death. Especially his own."
"He sends you a present." Pansy held in her hands a bag.
"Drugs?" Draco asked with one eyebrow raised. "He can keep it." He threw his spent cigarette on the ground and buried it underfoot.
"So, you're really going to quit then?" Pansy asked.
Draco nodded.
"You're afraid?"
"I just don't want to be consumed. I don't want it to end me. Blaise won't be able to get out. Sally-Anne killed herself to get out. But I've got a chance, Pansy. I think I'm going to take it."
I keep your photograph. I know it serves me well…
"It wasn't because of you, you know?" Pansy said, a hand on his shoulder.
"I know. But I was responsible for her." He looked up from the spot on the ground he had been watching. "What about you?"
"What about me?" she asked.
"What will you do?"
Pansy took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm a rare breed. I'm suited to this life. It doesn't frighten me like it frightens Blaise. I have no one to protect from it like Sally-Anne did. And…"
"And what?"
"And being left alone doesn't scare me like it scares you." She kissed his cheek. "No, I think I'll stick with it."
Draco nodded. He knew she could do it.
I want to hold you high and steal your pain…
"Tell Blaise thank you for me."
"I will."
He watched her go. Thinking he wouldn't see her again.
He thought there might have been something to say in that moment. They had been friends since childhood. Neither of them liked sloppy goodbyes. So they left things the way they were.
He walked back to the lodge.
Somehow a weight had been lifted from him. There was a direction he could take. It didn't feel cliché and it wasn't a path of self-destruction. He wouldn't say goodbye to Blaise either. Blaise would feel abandoned.
He sat in one of the rocking chairs that lined the whitewashed wrap-around porch. He'd left two friends behind now. No goodbyes. But Sally-Anne was different. She deserved a goodbye, at least.
Cause I'm broken when I'm open…
Closing his eyes, he ignored the shaking in his hands, his arms. It was becoming painful. Withdrawal really was a bitch. The images were coming unbidden to his mind. But now he didn't push them back.
And I don't feel like I am strong enough…
He couldn't have known at the time, but in memory he could swear he sensed an end coming. When he had thought she was asleep next to him he would hear her crying at night. This happened more and more toward the end. She also kicked up her using. All the time. He was always there and always sober, worried about her, too worried to use. He wanted to keep an eye on her and couldn't do so if he was as wasted as she was.
When they were summoned she had pulled him aside. Crying. A mess. Under pressure, she had named her parents as collaborators. They were part of a growing number of dissenters among the loyal group of followers of Voldemort. Tonight, unsuspecting, they were to be made examples of.
"Draco, help me," she pleaded her eyes were wide with guilt and worry.
Draco thought it over.
The mark on his arm distracted him.
She felt it too.
"Draco, you have to help me. If you love me, you'll try."
"We have to go now," he said. He could think of nothing to do. Surely he could have appealed to his father if he had known before this.
"I could say I was wrong," Sally-Anne thought aloud, trembling.
"They have hard proof. You've given them copies of your father's documents. You just said they've both been named. Your mother and your father. Even if you did say you were wrong…they would just kill you along with your parents."
"I have to. I can't just sit there and watch."
"I know," Draco said. He could say nothing else. "Please say you won't do anything rash, Sally-Anne. Promise me."
She would not look at him.
He would keep her in his sights no matter what happened. He would not let her put herself in the way.
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome…
They were brought in.
As Draco had suspected, the evidence was overwhelmingly against them.
Her father looked over the crowd, at her. Draco heard her whimper. They knew who had betrayed them. This life was all about betrayal.
Faster than he could react, Sally-Anne was between the wand that would kill her parents and their bound forms. Voldemort was the one who held the wand. He was the one who exacted judgment. He also handed down sentences. Rarely did anyone else receive the pleasure of killing.
Unless it became a test of loyalty.
To kill for your lord. Everyone had to face this test sooner or later.
"No, my lord. I am the guilty one. Please have mercy on them," she pleaded, her hands raised in contrition.
"I do not know mercy," Voldemort hissed angrily. "If you wish to die with them…"
"No, lord, please." Draco had decided. If you love me, you'll try… He could not help her parents. They were lost. He loved her and so he would save her.
"What is this? Is a conspiracy being raised against me?" the Dark Lord asked, lowering his wand and looking to an astonished Lucius.
"My son merely wishes to protect a loyal follower, Lord," Draco's father said smoothly. He stepped up to the scene and with cool and calculated measures, calmed the Dark Lord. "Her sentiments have run away with her momentarily, but Miss Perks is as loyal as my son. Has she not proven so?" He gestured to her bound mother and father behind her.
"This disruption will be answered for," Voldemort raged. "But let us get on with the task at had."
Lucius gestured to Draco to take Sally-Anne away.
Maybe that was the moment that she hated him.
The moment he dragged her away from her forsaken parents. She had forsaken them. He had forsaken her.
They were all forsaken.
And I don't feel right when you're gone away…
***
"You're fired, David," Ginny said.
There was a silence at the other end of the phone.
"Is this because I helped convince you to go to rehab?" David asked.
"No," she answered sympathetically. "I am nearly finished with a story that I started while I was here. It was the story that I always wanted to write. I guess I just needed to find the words and now I have."
"How does that make me fired?" David persisted.
There was a pause. Ginny answered, "After its publication I'm retiring, David. I don't want to write anymore. I don't want to do anything."
Nothing.
"David?" she asked.
"Are you all right there? Do you want me to come and get you?"
"David, I am fine. I just finally found out what I needed to do. When it's done…That's all I needed to do."
David's voice was cautious. "Ginny, you don't sound like yourself. Are you sure you're fine?"
"David, I love you." She smiled. She really did. He was a security to her.
"I love you too, sweetheart," David said reflexively. She knew he meant it.
"You'll always be my friend. I just won't need you to work for me. You work in public relations and I won't have anymore public relations when I retire."
The worst is over and now we can breathe again…
"Okay," David said finally. "I'll talk to you when you get out. Call me if you need anything, Ginny. I meant that," he added earnestly.
"I will, David. Later."
"Later, girl."
She hung up.
Finding herself standing in front of the window she looked down at the dew covered ground. Her medication was still there. Still laying scattered on the ground where she had thrown it the night before.
She rubbed her eyes and then her neck.
She spent the night on the bathroom floor.
It was a nice day.
She decided to take a walk. It would stop the shaking hands. Give her something to do. And she was out of cigarettes.
Down the road there was a convenient store. The only bit of civilization for miles. She pulled her sweater closer around her. The need for her medication was chilling her. Instead of a dull pain at the lower end of her spine, a sharper throbbing pain seemed to permeate every bone of her body.
One pill could get rid of it.
Would calm her racing heart.
Ease the shaking and the tense feeling.
The bell above the shop tinkled as she came in.
"Pack of cigs," she said to the bored and balding man behind the counter.
He looked dully at her and returned his eyes to the newsprint in front of him. "We're out."
"Out?" Ginny leaned on the counter and furrowed her brow. "Of everything?"
"Of everything with tobacco in it."
"How can you be out?"
The man set his paper down and glared at her. "We're out because we're next to a rehabilitation center. There are no other establishments for miles."
"You can't be out."
"Today is a fine day to quit," he said in a monotone that irritated Ginny.
"I'm tired of people telling me what I should do," Ginny said loudly.
The clerk looked around. "Look lady, I don't care what you're tired of. We're out."
Ginny said nothing.
Threw a pack of gum on the counter.
Great.
She had gum.
All was bloody right with the world.
Nothing could have brought her mood to the extreme low that it would soon be but the sight of Harry.
He was waiting for her.
A look on his face like he was worried that she had dropped off the planet.
She almost smiled, regardless of her mood and lack of cigs. He was waiting for her, looking worried, irritating her. Next to him Draco sat sleeping in a rocking chair.
It was evident from Harry's face that he recognized him.
I want to hold you high you steal my pain away…
Draco heard her footsteps.
He wasn't sleeping.
He looked up, shading his eyes.
He paid no attention to Harry. Maybe he hadn't even seen him standing there.
"Was that Pansy Parkinson I saw you talking with this morning?" Ginny called walking up the path to the porch.
"Yeah," Draco said simply, rocking lazily.
"Got a cigarette? Fucking convenient store is out."
He handed her the entire pack and his lighter and leaned back closing his eyes again. "They're out? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"No shit," Ginny agreed, cigarette between her lips, lighting it. "Harry," she said turning to her forgotten visitor. "This is Bob. Bob, Harry."
Draco opened his eyes for a moment and then closed them again.
"Bob uses crack because he's too poor to afford the good stuff," Ginny said, grinning.
"Fuck off," Draco replied, lazily rocking again.
"Okay, thanks for the cig." Ginny tossed his lighter back to him. He didn't attempt to catch it. He let it hit the floor. He went back to his nap.
***
He was well aware of Potter standing there.
For a while he wondered what he was to Ginny and what Ginny was to him.
He was answered when he saw her approaching from the path.
She looked as if he were the last person she wanted to see.
He paid no more attention and closed his eyes again.
Falling back into sleep, he lost all track of time and interest in what Ginny and Potter might be up to.
On his lids there was etched an image of him at seven or eight years of age. His hero sat beside him and spoke, looking down at him with pride every now and again.
He watched the elegant and skilled hands that played the keys on the lower register.
His own inexperienced hands muddled through the ascending octaves of an imperfect duet made perfect after so many years of repeating this same scene.
It had become a precious memory to him and also one that was damned. Cherished nonetheless.
"What will you be when you're older?" he was asked.
The boy's feet dangled in heavy polished shoes from the piano bench that they shared. He would look up and smile.
"I want to be like you, dad."
He couldn't help wondering if his father remembered the same scene.
Did he feel the disappointment?
He must have that night.
Disappointment was tangible in the air.
No doubt Sally-Anne's parents had expected more from her.
She had expected more from Draco.
His father had expected unquestioning submission.
Voldemort…well…no one really cared what he expected.
He wasn't his father.
He wasn't her hero.
He wasn't loyal to anything.
There's so much left to learn and no one left to fight…
There was no way to stop the flow of memories that came from that one far away piano bench memory. He didn't even try to.
It was only two days later when he had come to see her. And she was there. But she was dead.
She lay on her bed as if asleep.
Three syringes lay next to her. Every one of them empty.
It was no accidental overdose. She had meant to do it. He knew she would.
Had he convinced himself that it would be better this way? He didn't even start. Didn't panic when he saw her there. He remembered thinking that it would be easier if she didn't live with it.
Regret.
Betrayal.
Memories.
He lived with them all.
But he was glad that she had found a way out. Even if that way out had left him alone.
He stood and went to go back inside.
Stopped.
Stared.
His father stood feet from him, leaning on the porch rail. He looked on him with a blank expression.
Draco could only muster a surprised, "Father?"
"I used to look on you like that when you were a child."
Draco said nothing.
"You still look like my child."
"I still am your child." Draco stopped and stared. "I hope I still am."
Lucius nodded. "You always will be."
Draco motioned for him to sit.
"How about we walk?" Lucius asked instead. They headed down the path to the lake. Silence.
"You have three days of confinement left. I trust it has been manageable?" Lucius asked, holding his hat and gloves in one hand at his side. He looked as intimidating as he always did in his long black overcoat.
Draco nodded. "Better than prison."
Lucius turned to the lake and looked out over it.
"Thank you, father for everything you have done for me." Draco turned tentatively to him.
"You are my son. I do what I can." He looked to his son. His face was cold and calculating as always. "I regret that I could do no more."
Draco stood in silence for a moment. He said finally, "Do you remember the evenings when we used to play? Bach? Mozart? Do you remember what it was that you used to ask me?"
Lucius blinked and looked out over the glittering water. "Very well. Why?"
"You asked me, 'What will you be when you are older?'"
"You would answer, 'I want to be like you, dad.'" Lucius moved back from the water's edge. They continued down the path.
"I do," Draco said. "But I am not you, father."
"What are you saying?" Lucius asked.
Draco took a deep breath. "I am leaving. When I am released, I don't plan on joining you and the others again."
"I understand about the girl, Draco. I am not blind to the fact that you loved her. But do not throw everything away." He did not say it unkindly. He was a very forceful man, but had never lost his patience with his son.
Draco knew he must have disappointed his hero.
They were silent for a time.
"What will you do, Draco?" Lucius asked.
Draco shook his head, eyes downcast. "I plan to leave. From there…I don't know."
"He doesn't just let his followers leave, son."
"I know. I am willing to live hunted."
Lucius stared at his son for a long time. The pain must have been acute. His son was not him. He had always hoped he would be. But he was not. "I will do what I can." He replaced his hat on his head. "But I cannot promise you more."
"There is no more to promise," Draco said.
Lucius pulled his gloves over his hands and signaled the driver to pull the car around.
Draco thought that he could have said more. But he didn't. He watched his father's car until it was at the edge of the stand of trees and then he returned to the lodge silently.
His goodbyes were over.
***
Ian wasn't the first man she had used to cheat on Harry.
She had a feeling that he wouldn't be the last.
No.
The first had been her ex. Steven. Bastard.
A smile almost came to her face when she thought about him.
But it had vanished almost instantly.
She sat at the bar. Ordered a drink.
Jake winked at her. "Hard day, love?"
He knew exactly how it was done.
He didn't pour a drink and then set it in front of you, replacing the bottle on the shelf.
He poured the first drink and set the bottle in front of her. It was like a nineteen-forties movie—understood that there would be another drink and another. He understood this.
She drank and poured another.
He had cheated on her. On her!
She was allowed to. Yes. This was her life. She was the only one that was allowed to sleep around in her life. Her…and no other.
But when she got to Steven's…the door was unlocked. Of course it was. He was always sloppy like that.
She came straight here.
There was nothing to console her but Jake's liquid therapy.
Even that didn't do the trick until about her fifth.
But she had an idea.
It was exciting.
Daring.
She threw a bill down that was large enough to pay for the half bottle of vodka she walked out with and then some.
Back at Steven's house she walked into the foyer and grabbed his car keys from the ring on the wall. They were making the most inappropriate noises in the back bedroom. She ignored them and took his car.
She took his car to the coast.
Somewhere on the coast.
Dumped the rest of the contents of the Smirnoff bottle into the front and passenger seats and lit a match.
The jubilant blaze signaled the end of that relationship.
And a whole new phase in Ginny's relationship with Harry.
Suspicion.
She got home that evening, through means she could not even remember.
She waited for him.
She screamed at him when he got there.
She must have kicked him out.
She woke up alone on the floor behind the bar. One glass in her hand.
Knowing that he had not spent the night alone, she waited for him to come home. She just knew that he was sleeping with someone.
It was probably a very logical affair.
Logical Harry.
Typical.
Boring Harry.
It was probably Hermione.
He came home.
She threw a glass.
Accused him of sleeping with one of his best friends. (It was a projection. She was the one cheating).
She wrapped her car around a tree.
It's all been done before.
She wondered what he was still doing here as she walked next to him along the grounds of Serenity Hills. He looked nervous. Debating something.
"What is it, Harry?" she asked, stopping along a path in the small wood to the north side of the lodge.
"Marry me, Ginny," Harry said abruptly. It sounded plaintive. He was begging her.
"What?" Ginny was astonished. This was by no means a new development to their relationship. He had asked before. It was just… "You're asking me to marry you while I'm in rehab, Harry?" she asked admonishingly.
"Yes." He held a ring out to her. It was a ring she had seen before. It wasn't the first time he'd offered it.
I want to hold you high and steal your pain…
"No, Harry. I am the last thing you need."
"You're everything I need, Ginny. Why are you doing this to me?" He looked pitifully at her.
Ginny lost her voice for a moment. "Do you honestly like the way things are going with us, Harry? You want to have that for the rest of your life? What is wrong with you?"
She stared back incredulously.
He took a tentative step forward.
"It's better than spending my life without you."
"No it's not!" Ginny raged.
"Please, Ginny," Harry implored desperately. "I know you love me."
"Look at me, Harry." She stood apart from him. Held out her hands. "I am not in a position to know what I want, or need, or love. I can't do this right now."
"We've always known we would be together, didn't we?" Harry asked wildly. "I knew that if I couldn't save you I would regret it for the rest of my life."
Ginny flinched. She didn't want to discuss this. Didn't want to bring that up. It would lead to a conversation about Tom…and the night he died. She had carefully avoided this conversation all of her adult life.
Cause I'm broken when I'm open…
"Harry. I'm not even faithful to you. I've been sleeping with other men," Ginny argued gently.
He stepped back and fingered the ring. He would not look at her. "I know."
Ginny blinked. "You do?"
"Yes," Harry said, still looking down. "The night before your accident. You told me everything. Steven. Ian. I suspected Jake, but you never mentioned him."
"I wasn't sleeping with Jake," Ginny answered in a whisper. She closed her eyes. He had known all along…and he was still with her. He never confronted her. Never made her feel guilty. He had borne her betrayal silently.
"Still. I would rather it were this way. I couldn't stand it if I didn't have you."
"I'm sick, Harry. I can't do this. I can't marry you."
"Why not?" he persisted desperately.
"Because. It's a relationship built on control, betrayal and resentment, Harry. You don't want that. I don't want that."
"Control? Resentment? Ginny, you're the only one who's betrayed here. I'm willing to overlook it because I love you. Have you forgotten about that? Love?"
"Harry, you control me. You don't think I can make decisions on my own. You worry about me. You hassle me. You bully me."
"Because I love you and I don't want you to destroy yourself."
"You don't know what love is!" she raged. "I did and you killed him!"
Harry was silent. He stared at her for an interminable minute. "What are you talking about?"
Ginny pushed past him. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. He looked into her eyes and said, "It does matter. Tell me what you mean."
"You killed Tom," she answered in a small voice.
"Yes, I did," Harry said. "You can't mean that you hate me for that."
"I didn't want saving is what I meant by it."
"I wasn't going to let him kill you, Ginny."
"It was my choice. Not yours!" Ginny felt hot tears of rage running down her cheeks. "I gave myself to him. I am damned without him."
She felt his hand strike her cheek hard. She tasted the metallic blood on her lips.
"You will marry me, Ginny," Harry said pushing the ring onto her finger. He was not gentle. "You will get better. This isn't real. Tom wasn't real. I am."
Ginny said nothing.
He wiped the blood from her lip and kissed her.
And I don't feel like I am strong enough…
She stood motionless as he walked away and left her.
Shaking, her mind in painful disarray, she ran back to the lodge and into her room ducking curious stares.
She collapsed again on the bathroom floor with an aggravated wail after realizing that she had thrown out her medication.
She woke up to find the bathroom steamy. The shower curtain closed.
"Eden?" she asked sitting up.
"Yeah?" Eden asked ducking her head out from behind the curtain.
"How long have I been on the floor?"
"Oh, I would have moved you but I couldn't lift you. Sorry. It's around eight, I guess."
Ginny stood. "Eight in the evening?"
"Yep," Eden called from the shower.
Ginny watched her hands shake. Moved a finger over the ring on her left hand.
Sighed.
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome…
She glanced tentatively into the steamy mirror and pulled a tissue from the box on the sink to wipe her lip. A needle caught her eye at the bottom of the box.
She pulled the rest of the tissues from the box.
Heroin.
She shoved the tissues back inside and left the bathroom.
"What happened to your lip, Ginny?" Eden asked.
Ginny was gone.
***
Draco got up painfully from bed and went into the bathroom in the dark. He drank a glass of water where he stood and avoided his reflection. He knew he looked like hell.
No.
Hell came walking through the door right at that moment.
Ginny slammed the door back against the wall and looked around. She didn't see him standing behind her in the doorway of the bathroom.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked in a monotone. He took a sip of water and watched her irate movements.
"She's only a kid, Draco. Why do you have to be her supplier?"
"Eden?" Draco asked.
"Who the fuck do you think I'm talking about?"
Draco moved to shut the door behind her. Turned on the light. "I wasn't using it anymore. She asked if I had any. I gave her everything."
"Draco, don't you want to get better?"
"Do you?" he asked, leaning against the wall, boxer shorts and tousled hair.
"I…yeah, of course I do." Ginny said, placing a hand on her hip.
"No you don't."
"How the hell do you know?" she asked incredulously.
"I finished your books."
"And that's supposed to make you an expert on me?" she asked.
Draco shook his head. "No. But I do know what you want. You can't have him. So get over it."
"What?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Tom. From what I understand Harry Potter the Wunderkind killed him in that whole Chamber of Secrets drama. I know you were there. It's one of my father's favorite stories. I know it by heart."
"You don't know anything about it!" Ginny spat.
"Who gave you that?" Draco said with a smile pointing to her cut lip.
Ginny touched it with a tentative finger.
Draco raised an eyebrow. "The same person who gave you that, I suppose," he answered for her, indicating the ring. "You're no mystery, Ginny Weasley. You spelled everything out in your books. The way it sounds to me, you learned to love control. You've associated it with love. That, of course, is not your fault. You learned it from Tom. You wanted to die for him. But you were saved and he was destroyed. And now the part of your life worth living has past. So you drowned the rest in alcohol." He smiled and held up one of her books.
"And your story is just like everyone else's. But it makes for good fiction, doesn't it?"
Ginny stared at him in astonishment.
"The next one will be published in the summer. I hope you find it as amusing." It wasn't said unkindly. Afraid, detached.
And I don't feel right when you're gone away…
She turned away before he had the chance to see her tears.
She went back to her own room thinking that she desperately needed to get her medication back.
Eden was asleep.
The nurse was down the hall, blocking the entrance and the stairwell.
She looked down on the lawn, the moonlight brightening the pills that lay scattered and calling to her.
She estimated the jump from her window to the nearest tree branch.
God she wished she had a wand.
It would have been so much easier.
Cause I'm broken when I'm open…
She hung on for a long time before she slipped.
The branch swayed with her weight as her legs lost their purchase. The ground was much further down from this vantage point.
Her ring dug into her already bruised finger.
Oh God! She thought. She would slip.
She was going to fall.
She did fall.
She felt a snap when she hit the ground.
But she smiled before it all turned to black. There was one pill lying just in front of her.
She reached for it and passed out in the grass.
And I don't feel light when you're gone away…