That night I decided...this is it; I'm going to do it. I walked into the kitchen, nobody noticed me take the bottle of Tylenol or grab the bottle of vodka from under the sink. Not like there was anyone to notice. My dad was at work, as expected, and my sister was tying up the phone line. I told my sister I was going to take a shower, HA!, she couldn't have guessed what was about to happen. I tip-toed to the bathroom, maybe I thought someone would notice or care, but no one did. I carefully shut the door, but I didn't lock it. I wanted someone to be able to get in easily, none of that firemen, axes, or battering ram kind of stuff. I turned the shower on, a sort of alibi I guess. I put the stuff on the counter. My palms were so sweaty it took me forever to get the cap off the bottle of Tylenol. I put one in my mouth and swallowed it with a swig of vodka. Then I did it again, and again, and again. When I stopped I had taken about half the bottle of pills. I suddenly got really woozy, maybe it was the realization of what I had done...maybe it was just the alcohol. I reached for the edge of the counter to steady myself, but I missed. I felt my arms flailing and my feet fall from under me. I don't think I knew I was falling, but I hit the ground and I was out like a light.
             I remember some distorted dreams. Flashing lights, dancing elephants like in Dumbo. Later, I tried to open my eyes, but the lights were so overwhelming. I was in a bed. The place looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I heard mumbled voices around the corner. My dad and sister were talking to Dr. Marks. He was my doctor when I was hospitalized for a breakdown. My dad's new wife was there too. They noticed I was awake and walked to my bedside. My dad hugged me hard, almost too hard. It was like he was trying to make up for the last few months in that one hug. Dr. Marks said I had less than five days to live. Someone should have to...