TEMPTING THE ENEMY (MM)
I don’t have time to ruin myself again.
I slide off the mattress quiet, bare feet smacking soft against the wood. Seth doesn’t move. Good. My bag’s under the desk. I crouch low and yank it open, digging past notebooks and wrappers till my fingers close around the bottle. White label, torn edges, the fucker’s old but the pills still work. Risperdal, 2mg tabs, tiny as shit but punch like a brick to the skull. I pop the cap and dump one into my palm, thumb rolling it over once before shoving it back on my tongue and swallowing dry.