Numb that was the one word to currently describe Ms. Londyn Taylor. By now Londyn was used to being alone, both her parents passed away when she was young. She barely remembers them. The only thing close to a parent she ever had was her older sister, Ashley.
Ashley stepped up and took guardianship when she was just 18.
For years it was just Ashley and Londyn but now they live totally separate lives. Londyn is in her Freshman year at Columbia and Ashley is a full fledged FBI profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit.
Londyn was used to being alone but ever since she arrived in the city Londyn has been hopelessly compensating trying to fill the empty void inside her. Always taking unnecessary risks in the hopes that she might begin to feel something again and tonight wasn't any different.
If anything tonight was going to be worse.
Tonight marked the anniversary of her mother's death. Londyn's life was full of anniversaries that marked tragic events mostly around her father's criminal behavior but this one always hit the hardest. It was the big one, the one that set all of the others into motion.
Londyn made up her mind earlier that day that tonight was going to be wild whether she lived or died this night was going to be one for the history books.
It's not that she was actively suicidal but living on the edge, toeing the line between life and death was such a rush; it was the closest thing she had to genuine emotion anymore. In a sick twisted way this was Londyn's own way of connecting with her father.
They were both thrill seekers. Different methods sure but the same result.
The night started off with a bang. Only an hour in Londyn was three painkillers and a handful of muscle relaxants deep. The night was young and Londyn was only getting started.
She walked up to the bar and saw the line of shots glistening in the neon lights calling to her. It was at that moment that Londyn realized there was no going back now.
Two rows of shots later Londyn was beginning to feel it as she made her way to the bathroom
Miraculously, she made it into the bathroom before she collapsed in front of the toilet.
As she collapsed in a drunken pile in front of the toilet she began to regret the choices she made that led her here.
How did she go from a straight A pre-med student at Columbia to a drunken mess on a bathroom floor in less than 12 hours? It didn't make any sense. The two sides were polarizing. Complete opposites but they were both part of her.
She laid their clinging to the toilet like a life raft as she cried herself to sleep.
The Next Morning Mt. Sinai Emergency Room