Poppies

Trigger warning: suicide is a central topic, so don't read if you think that may harm you

Half of her isn't entirely sure that what she's doing is a good idea, but Loretta can't find it in herself to care. She's never imagined herself being alive this long, but here she still is alive, breathing, and everything else that comes with the package.

Loretta takes the pill bottle out of the medicine cabinet and sets it on the bathroom counter. The sleeping pills are her father's. He got a refill earlier today. For months, she's been siphoning out a couple pills every week so her dad wouldn't notice any missing.

On the counter, she has two bottles and one little plastic bag full of sleeping pills. There's one-hundred and twenty pills from the supermarket that she got right off the rack and one-hundred and two prescription pills. Loretta isn't sure if it's enough.

'How many pills is enough to kill you?' Loretta had typed into Google last night.

She hadn't found a straight answer like she wanted. All she got were vague replies on forums and medical websites as well as a few listings for suicide prevention.

So, without any definite answers, she stands and stares at the containers. Her heart is fluttering in her chest, she realizes. Loretta swallows thickly and double checks the door, making sure it's locked, before emptying out the bottles onto the counter. She pushes them into a pile with her hand and tosses the packaging away in the garbage can.

'That looks like a lot,' Loretta thinks to herself, staring down at the mix of white and blue on her counter.

She leans on the sink for a moment, tears pricking at her eyes. She doesn't know why she's crying and she furiously wipes the tears away with her fist. She ties her hair back and then grabs a paper cup from the dispenser. Without a second thought, she fills the cup up and downs her first pills.

Three goes down easily, so she tries four. Then, she does five. Six, then seven. She chokes on eight and has to take a moment to gather herself. She continues on slowly.

After taking a couple handfuls, her stomach already begins to feel full. She forces herself to press on because she has to do this. What else is she going to do? She can't keep going on, there's no point to it.

Soon enough, half of the pills are swimming in her stomach. Loretta can feel her body fighting back, but she keeps going.

More pills, more pills, more pills.

One handful, two handfuls, three, four. Five. Six.

Then, there isn't any more pills left on the bathroom counter.

Loretta calmly searches the bathroom for any evidence and then unlocks the door, turns off the light, exits the bathroom, and heads to her room.

It's almost ten o' clock and her parents go to bed at nine, so she doubts she'll be bothered. She usually stays up until ungodly hours, hardly getting any sleep. She's constantly tired whether she sleeps or not, so what does it matter? This time, however, she plans on sleeping forever.

She lays down on her bed, tugging her blankets around her until she feels warm. She feels woozy and that is enough to knock her out after a few minutes. Perfect.

She wakes up feeling violently ill. It's the middle of the night judging by the darkness in her room, but she barely has time to take this in before she's out of her bed and rushing for the bathroom. She doesn't make it very far before she's kneeling on the carpet, hurling.

Loretta certainly didn't expect this, though she didn't know what to expect in the first place. The vomiting hurts- she can feel it burn her throat. It feels as if it's splitting apart. She heaves, making a choked noise as her body tries to eject more from her stomach. She pukes three times before she ends up dry heaving, bile leaving a foul taste in her mouth.