Lisa blinks rapidly against the ache in her throat. She can’t cry. She glances around the room as the sound of the shower stops. Her mother’s handbag is perched on the bed next to the neatly folded nurses’ uniform. Lisa opens it and fumbles with the zip on the little pocket inside, meant for lipsticks and other things, and now home to The Pills. Lisa opens the packet and pops them into her hand; ten of Clozaril and twenty of Zoloft. The Zoloft could be easily pumped from her system if anyone found her but the Clorazil was lethal. She stuffs the empty packets back and slips from the room. Annemarie arrives a second too late, glancing around the room.
“Lisa?” she calls.
She opens her handbag and unzips the same pocket. The packet is there, winking reassuringly up at her. Annemarie closes the bag and slumps on the edge of the bed. If Paul were here I could have taken time off work…
Annemarie pokes her head around the door before leaving.
“Lisa, honey, try to eat something today, ok? And remember you have your blood test this afternoon.”
“I love you.” Anxious voice, eyes filling.
“I love you too, mum.” Voice flat, eyes downcast.
“Bye, honey.” Annemarie turns from the room, mind drifting to work.
Lisa is alone. She opens her palm and looks at the pills. What do I do?