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Without opening my eyes, my hands break free, and one darts for the bottle. I make contact easily, as though my fingers and the pills are connecting magnets.
Like a coward, I open the bottle, refusing to look at anything other than the back of my eyelids, focusing hard on the way the little veins web out from the brightness of the vanity lights.
Before I can overthink it.
Before I can make the right decision.
I have already swallowed.
Then. Only then do I open my eyes.
Not having realized I was facing the mirror, I unfairly lock eyes with a lowlife, who does not have her shit together, staring back at me.
I chuck the bottle at my reflection with a muffled, hiccupy cry.
Pills scatter everywhere.
Do I care?
No.
And in about fifteen minutes I will care even less. Let some of the staff find it. The new babies here are fucking hungry anyway. Think of it as their bonus today.
