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Everyday Mrs. Briton would quietly leave the house in the dark. She would tiptoe so that no one would ever come to know that…..(beginning given) She was dying. The only pillar of the family’s well-being depending on a tiny vial and a hypodermic needle.

Every night Mrs. Briton would leave the house at 1:00am exact, into the woods where she would inject substances into her forearm. Sometimes colorless, sometimes blue, sometimes red. Then she would continue being who she was . .Or pretended to be. 

It was working out well till she ran out of her medicine. Frantic, she rushed to the 24/7, only to find it . . . Closed?  Yellow police lines formed a cross at the door. Approaching the door, Mrs. Briton picked up a smell. As she inched closer to the source, she let out a silent scream. Hands flew over her mouth as her eyes registered the unmistable resemblance to the chemist on seeing the decaying face.

She turned and ran back home. Owls hooted and bugs cricked, and branches were crushes as she ran, flailing her arms. Suddenly a tree materialized in front of her. She swerved at the last second, only to go tumbling down the hill. She screamed as the branches tore at her skin. Lying in a pool of blood and barely keeping conscious, she gaped in horror as the blood trail she had left on the trees and rocks were coming to life.

Thick red snakes began slithering towards her, hissing angrily with their blood-red tongues. Briton tried kicking at them, only to stop when they started climbing on her, leaving blood marks wherever they touched. Her bones cracking was the last sound they heard before she passed out.

She woke up in her bed, her son in her arms. “I’ve told you mom…spare some medicines in advance. Before you kill yourself trying to escape your hallucinations.” 


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