[#028] Shackles

I turned the bottle over and read the long-past expiration date on the back. Clearly she hadn't needed the Pepcid in a long time. I set it down too quickly on the counter, knocking over the other two vials I'd placed there earlier. I froze and watched the bed as the pills rattled to a halt in the corner. Through the doorway I could see her turn over and mumble something before the loud snoring continued. My breath returned reluctantly, and I nearly gave up the search right there.

But I had to know. If I was taking her back, I had to know she hadn't given up again.

I turned back to the medicine cabinet and dug out another of the horde of bottles scattered across the shelves. A fungal reek sliced across the bathroom as I worked, uncovering everything from lingering empties to an odd smelling rag stuffed into the blackened, moldy corner of the metal box. A foil bag of something dark stood on the highest shelf, the top snipped off and rolled up like a sack of chips, but more concerning were the three tubes of amber plastic I found at the back: one anti-psychotic and the others chemical names I could never hope to recognize with an education based on Hollywood movies.

All of them sat in a row, half-full of the bits and bobs she hated, the shackles she put around her own legs to feel normal.

All of them were long expired.

*Are they extras?* I thought. *Wouldn't having extras mean she skipped a day?*

I glanced over my shoulder at the heaving blanket on the bed. The snores had grown softer, and I took great care to minimize the noise as I sifted through the bottles lined up on the counter. As old as the pills at the back were, all the empties were even older. Why were they buried in the rear? Was she hiding them? And, more importantly, where were her recent prescriptions?

I couldn't believe she wasn't taking them. She'd suffered so much for so long, ignoring the voices she heard in the night, staring down the shapes she saw in the shadows, all the many hours of self-inflicted pain and...

...And insomnia...

The room was deadly silent. I drew a deep breath and slid the mirrored cabinet slowly closed...