On her bed, an array of pills. An array of hope, hope that one day this would all end. It'd be over. She'd be gone. Her mind still waged wars, to take them or to not? She stared at her own reflection. The pathtetic, crying reflection. She felt sick to see that this was her. This was what she had become. This is how she was, trapped. But she knew the way out now. She knew the way out lay just meters away. Covering her bed. She took them out the packet. Counted them out. She had to take them now. She had too. She wanted to take more. Something stopped her, or someone. He loved her. He'd said so. She lied to him. She told him she'd be alright. She told him she wouldn't do it. She knew she had to stay. For him. For him, she survived.