Elaine stood frozen in place, her heart clenching so tightly it felt like something was breaking inside her.

  From the bedroom, she could hear Nora’s muffled sobs.

  Elaine’s knees gave out. She collapsed to the floor, breath caught in her throat, a pain she couldn’t name flooding up from the depths of her chest and crashing over her like a wave.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, nails digging deep into her skin.

  "You have to be strong, Elaine."

  The voice in her head was familiar—firm, unrelenting.

  "This is how you protect her. You can't let any boy hurt her."

  She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to listen to the crying from the other room.

  She had to believe she was right. She had to be right.

  She’d already lost once. She couldn’t lose again.

  Nora’s hands trembled. Her entire body felt like it was being dragged underwater, numb and cold. Her thoughts were scattered, tangled, as if her brain was short-circuiting.

  She yanked open her desk drawer. Everything inside was a mess. But at the very bottom—almost hidden in the shadows—lay a small box. She reached in, fingers brushing against cool plastic.

  Her eyes blurred with tears, and when she blinked, they spilled down her cheeks.

  Prescription meds.

  Her heart pounded violently, her throat tightening. She gripped the bottle hard, her nails pressing crescent moons into her palm. With a sharp click, the cap came off, and a cascade of pills spilled into her hand.

  Fifty, maybe sixty.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Her mom had taken her to the doctor a long time ago for the flu. The medicine was never thrown away—and Nora, for reasons she never fully understood, had hidden the bottle away.

  Maybe ending it is easier than facing it…

  The thought wasn’t loud. It came like a whisper—an echo she didn’t even realize she’d kept locked inside.

  Her mind felt detached, like she was floating somewhere outside her body. Mechanically, she shoved the pills into her mouth.

  Her throat burned, dry as desert sand. Her body convulsed. She didn’t even think—just grabbed the milk from the desk and gulped it down, swallowing everything.

  Silence.

  She curled up on her bed, knees pulled to her chest, tears soaking into the pillow. The world stopped spinning. She just wanted everything to go dark, to stop, to freeze.

  Isn’t this just sleeping?

  Yes. Just sleep.

  And then…

  Ten minutes passed.

  Her stomach twisted violently. A searing, tearing pain shot through her gut, spreading like fire to her limbs. It felt like something alive was crawling inside her, ripping her apart.

  Her throat burned with acid. Sweat drenched her bangs.

  Something's wrong…

  Clarity returned, sharp and brutal.

  What… what did I just do?

  Her gaze drifted to the desk.

  The empty pill bottle lay on its side—silent, accusing.

  She froze.

  The pain surged again, forcing reality back into her body.

  She had swallowed all of it.

  She had tried to die.

  No!

  I don’t want to die!

  She clawed at the sheets, her stomach cramping, her head spinning. Staggering to her feet, she stumbled toward her mother’s room, pounding on the door with all the strength she had left.

  “Mom—Mom!”

  Her voice was hoarse, broken.

  Footsteps—then the door flung open.

  Nora collapsed into her mother’s arms.

  Elaine caught her, panic spreading like wildfire across her face as her hands touched Nora’s cold, sweaty forehead and pale cheeks.

  “What happened?!”

  Nora clutched her sleeve, barely able to form the words. “Mom… I took… the whole bottle… Help me…”

  Elaine’s world shattered.

  It felt like something invisible had clamped around her throat. She could barely breathe.

  She half-carried, half-dragged her daughter back into the room. Her eyes landed on the bottle, and her fingers trembled uncontrollably.

  Without hesitation, she lunged for the phone—dialing emergency services, screaming her daughter’s name again and again.

  “Nora, stay with me! Stay with me!”

  Nora could barely hear her. Everything sounded like it was underwater—her mother’s voice, the sirens wailing in the distance, the rush of feet, strangers speaking, someone crying—

  And then, nothing.

  Her pain faded. Her consciousness drifted.

  Was this it? Was this what came after?

  She had always imagined death would be beautiful.

  But now—

  In the dark, she floated.

  Like a feather.