Saturday was a two pill kinda night. The pain wouldn’t subside. Her belly ached, cramping that burned reaching straight to her bones. Thank goodness Carl had leftover hydrocodone. Not oxy but it’d do in a pinch.
Addictive? Nope. Not for Sarah. She almost didn’t take another since the first pill did little to take the edge off. But pain made for poor bed fellows; @ 10 pm, she popped the second tab. Almost instantly, the room went woozy and she started to doze. Squashed her symptoms but was far from a cure.
Addictive? Yes. Sarah could get used to this.
Helen was superwoman. Her life was the epitome of ideal. Happily married for 12 years with the requisite two children, comfortable home, picket fence and family dog. No one knew she how she spent her off time … time away from the world.
Living had taken a toll on her once trim fit body. Her mind stored all the memories of better days. When did life get sour? Or had life always been that way. Helen was consumed and confused by the possible. Staying in bed wallowing away the minutes turned into hours was easier. Her destiny was to remain that way.
She never bothered to tell anyone. Why? Frankly no one cares. She voluntarily exiled herself to the room she hated most. Surrounded by clutter, she wallowed in pity. Hammering away at the keyboard. If she pounded hard enough surely the demons would break free. Hammering to release the wounds of past pains. A sense of loneliness and isolation from which she was born. She felt the word shame before she knew the meaning. An ache of being rejected by her whole clan. Unclean. Unworthy. Unwanted. Buried deep in her soul from the moment she took her first gasp of air.