The Girl in the Asylum

Chapter 8: Not for human comsumption

I got up and went to get all the pills off the floor and glanced down at her arms. They were worse than the last time I checked; deeper and there was a lot more. I couldn't really say much cause my thighs and arms were starting to look like bar codes. The slightest damn knocks would open them right back up again. Ugh, up until the last few nights my problem had gone; not anymore. My urges had gotten stronger and more controlling than ever. I needed my counseller but she needed it more. She was my biggest and one of my only worries-excluding me. Well, I didn't really care about my health and all I saw was a hungry, famished young girl in front of me that needed love and support; whether she would except it or not.

I looked up at her and stared into her eyes as they glistened from the glare of the broken glass. Her insanity kind of ruined her whole "dreamy, blue eyed, rebellious teenager" aesthetic; which I was starting to like.
"I'm sorry." She said, looking dead behind her dusty blue eyes. The confusion then hit me so hard that I didn't even have chance to reply. "Where did you get them from?" I asked.
"They were under my mattress." Which was odd because she never goes near her bed, let alone look under it. I was now starting to worry. I had no idea where'd they'd come from. There was no possible way in or out of cells; that was a privilege for staff, not that they gave us fancy 'privilages' really. So how she got out the other night I did not know. Well, my main concern wasn't the pills themselves, it was the state they made her. She was perfectly crazy. Her eyes were crossed as she sat in the corner. One minute it was hysterical sobs whereas the next she was chuckling, grinning and singing nursery rhymes to herself on the floor. I had never seen her like that in all the time is known her. She was going crazy.
I was also confused as to why she wanted to take them. The last few days she was relaxed, the best I'd ever seen her.
For ages I was trying to get her to eat. What ever those pills where, prescribed or not, she surely couldn't've taken them on an empty stomach. She must've done. Whenever I'd ask her if she was hungry she would always tell me the same thing..."No, no he doesn't want me to eat." I could see in her desperate, pleading eyes that she was hungry, it's just he never wanted her to. At night I would lie awake and hear her stomach grumble. Some nights she would punch herself in the stomach just to stop the constant rumbling. She was slowly killing herself and she expected me to sit back and watch her become scarred skin and bone.
I snatched the pot out of her bony, cold hands and read the label;
"BLEACH TABLETS-NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION."
Oh god, I'd messed up big time...