This is going to be a short story unless I decide to change that for some reason... I got inspiration for this through various songs and my own battle with depression. Ok. Here goes.
Prologue:
She sat, broken. She wiped the tears from her face and took a deep, steadying breath. The whispers her mind threw at her were deafening. Never had she seen this coming, such little mistakes leading to such big trouble.
She didn't ever think she would become one of those people- the weak, over emotional little shits that annoyed her so much before. Now she was one, but she kept it to herself, not spreading the disease of her depression because for one she didn't want to believe it was true. Secondly, all her friends had regrouped and they had left her behind.
She didn't even have her boyfriend- well, exboyfriend now- to hold her through it. They had broken up about two weeks ago. He had all but forgotten about her by now.
She went downstairs.
She was alone.
She opened the medicine cabinet and took out four bottles. Hydrocodone, prescribed to her father; Adderal, prescribed to her sister; Ibuprofen 800 mg tablets prescribed to her mother; and finally, Seroquel, prescribed to forty-five year old Brandi Temple, a bottle of drugs she'd bought off the street.
Eight was her lucky number. Eight of each went into her palm, and she swallowed them two-by-two. She went back up to her room and read her Hannibal Lecter fan fiction, and waited to die.
