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Chaos. She was lost in an endless loop of chaotic thoughts. A web of memories tangled in her mind. Good and bad. Happy and sad. The picture of her mother creeping in the corners of her vision.
Today was for her—for her memory and her lost life.
Julie could hear the fade sound of the bullet that hit her mother's body, and the chilling scream that left her mouth once she laid dead.
She could see the drops of blood that masked the colourful carpet, the way it was dripping from the white walls. Sick to her stomach she had touched her mother's wound. That twisted feeling that rushed to her veins when the maroon liquid covered her skin.
She had screamed. Again. Again and again. Until her voice was replaced by a weak whisper.
Chills ran Julie's body.
Like the same blood was dripping from her eyelashes— her vision filled with red dots. Her body spammed. Her gaze shifted.
A new untouched bottle of pills, now standing proudly in plain sight. Her heart sank. Sweat forming on her forehead, lips trembling, hands shaking. She needed them more than air. She was in despair, begging for the green pills.
A blasphemy.
Numbing her emotions was a tradition for this particular day.
But she had promised that she'd let her mind and body suffer. Her weakness must of be punished. She held tightly her blanket, twisting it trying to transmit the pain to the lifeless object.
She heard a yell. She rushed to her feet.
Another one.
She can't breathe.
Another. She waited. It stopped.
A statue among the shadows that portrait that night's tragedy. She could hear the sound of the ambulance, the hands of the policemen that escorted her out of the house, the ache in her heart.
She fell on her knees.
Unable to breathe, she started praying.
She worshiped her God, praying for her mother's soul.
Until she heard her mom's scream again, and she collapsed against the wooden floor.
Pretty curls on wood. A mellow light filtered in from windows. Her eyes opening under the gentle sunlight. Her fingers lifting, staying in the air in attempt to catch her precious bottle of pills.
She was weak under their spell. Why fight it?
She crawled, until her hand reached for the glass bottle. She now had it in her grip. A relief bloomed inside her. Tears threatening her eyes. She took one out carefully, like it was made of glass.
A shade of poison like a veil, hinting its contents. Her jaw dropped, ready to sip the elixir of life.
The bell rang, and her mind's antidote fell on the floor.
