Love...or Life?

Chapter Four: Diazepam

I hugged my knees and rested my forehead in between them and sobbed like I'd never sobbed before.

The words of the Devil repeated in my mind. I couldn't stop myself from hearing the conversation over and over again.

My parents...them. The ones who locked me up. They wanted to get rid of me again. I heard my mother say it.

"If she does something strange again, we'll have a reason to get rid of her."

The words were cutting me like knives and after every repeat it felt like a new scar was left upon me.

I knew my family detested me but I didn't think they'd wish for Hell upon me.

At least not again.

I gazed up to the ceiling and I felt the back of my head touch my door, which my back was leaning on.

Tears still burning my face, I felt myself hyperventilating so I reached for my anxiety pills that were placed upon my suitcase.

I was given Diazepam when I left the underworld to control my panic attacks, and I had to take them whenever I had a panic attack that I couldn't control.

This one was definitely out of control.

I tugged the small sheet out of the box and popped one tablet out. It swiftly fell from my hands and landed upon the carpet. I reached over, still sat on the ground, and delicately retrieved them.

I stared at the tiny white pill sat upon my palm.

I hated taking pills.

I always hoped to be strong enough without them, but I barely ever was.

After one struggled deep breath, I headed towards the bathroom to fetch a drop of water to consume with the pill. By keeping my hair covering my face, I avoided being seen by my 'loved ones'.

I had no interest in talking with them whatsoever after what they'd done.

At least not for a very long time.

***

I pushed the bathroom door behind me until I heard a quiet click. Still panting rapidly, I felt the cold of the tap against my fingers as I desperately twisted the knob.

When the water started gushing, I curled my hand to collect a small amount and floated the pill within it. With my hand grasped to my lips, I gulped down both the diazepam and the water in panic and sneaked back to my room.

Still shaking, I huddled up upon my bed and brought my knees to my chest as my right shoulder rested on the surface of the mattress so my body was facing the wall. I kept my grip upon a soft pillow, that awaited being rested upon, between my fingers.

My forehead began to feel cold with droplets of ancient sweat from earlier on and my breaths began to grow shorter. I buried my face within the pillow and gritted my teeth until they ached.

All I was doing was waiting for this nightmare to end.

That is, if it was going to end.