Chapter 3

I walked over to the old cabinet, crouched down, and pulled open the bottom drawer.

Inside was a complete mess. I dug around for quite a while before my fingers finally brushed against that little bottle, yellowed with age.

I remembered when I was little, Mom used to take this whenever she couldn't sleep.

Back then, she'd always hide the bottle, pat my head gently, and warn me in a serious voice, "Barbara, you must never touch this medicine. If you do, you'll be gone forever."

I never forgot those words.

Now that I was older, I knew what she meant was death.

If I died, they'd finally be relieved.

I went to the kitchen, poured myself a glass of water, then sat back down on my bed.

I twisted off the cap and dumped all the white pills into my palm.

Staring at those tiny pills, Mom and Dad's smiling faces suddenly flashed before my eyes.

My nose stung, and tears splashed down onto the back of my hand.

Suddenly, I felt a little scared, and a little reluctant to let go.

But those smiles quickly faded, replaced by the exhausted faces of parents worn out from working day and night.

I closed my eyes, trying to convince myself not to be so selfish.

Leaving was the last way I could show them I was mature.

I took a deep breath, stuffed all the pills into my mouth, and swallowed them down with a gulp of water.

They tasted a little bitter, but the taste faded away almost instantly.

I set the empty bottle by my pillow, lay down, and pulled the covers over myself.

The heaviness inside me melted away.

Outside, the sky was getting brighter, and the birds began to sing.

I closed my eyes, feeling utterly exhausted. I just wanted to have a good sleep.