Fifteen.

10 1 0
                                    

Eleven Months Ago
(16 years old)

I don't mean to steal the prescription pad.
I really don't. It never even crossed my mind until that Saturday I take dad lunch to his office. It's hot that summer, topping 110 some days, and I should be out at the lake or something, but I like to spend time with dad. So, every fourth Saturday I usually grab some takeout to share on his lunch break.

"Give me a second?" He asks after he gets off the phone with whoever's on the other end. "I've got to check on some things, then we can eat."

I set the bag of sandwiches on his desk, next to the old wood clock that mum got for him for one of their anniversaries. He closes the office door behind him, and I sit down in his swivel chair, twirling a bit.

Dads desk is orderly, everything's in the right place. There's a picture of me and mum, standing side by side, our shoulders nearly touching. It's in a simple silver frame, a matching one sits beside it. It's a picture of dad standing on the sidelines, from before the accident, when he couched Harry and I's football team. There's a black and white one of me from when I was 11 or 12, my hair messily in my face. I'm smiling at something off camera. My eyes lowered, almost hopeful as my hand reaches out. For Harry, of course.
He's making faces at me while dad took the picture. I remember how hard it was not to let my face scrunch with laughter.

I brush my fingers across the top of dads stash of pens, neatly grouping them by colour. I pull open his top drawer. There's a bunch of post-it notes, colour coded, again, and underneath that...
Prescription pads. A stack of them.
And suddenly it's all I can think about.
I'd always had enough pills. I'd never have to worry. Never have to keep count, just in case the doctors noticed. It'd be so good. So right.

The paper tickles my skin as I thumb through one of the pads like it's a flip book. I'm giddy, almost high just at the mere thought of it.
I don't plan on stealing them.
But I do.
I don't even think of the trouble I could cause as I shove them into my bag.
I'm to in love with the idea of more and numb and gone.

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