Caitlyn had been struggling recently after the loss of her parents and Vi. You tried to help her; to get her to stop, but nothing worked. It would just start an argument.

Now she was laying on the couch, pills scattered all over the table and empty bottles all over the floor. She was cross faded.

You came home from work and saw her on the couch, your face fell. You walked over and started to pick up the pills, assuming she was asleep. Suddenly you felt a harsh hand on your wrist.

“Don’t fucking touch those.” She slurred.