Step 1

Rough draft of a story on depression. Not sure if I want to expand on this or not

Step 1:  Always use a Lure lock syringe.

Depression was always something Maddison struggled with.  On the outside she had the perfect life.  Loving husband, nice house, good job, great life.  She had money too, just the right amount.  The amount where there is extra after all the bills are paid. Enough to travel and live a comfortable life.  But the way she viewed herself was different from the world around her.  Most would call her a looker.  She had the type of comfortable/approachable attractiveness; enough that you would notice her but not enough that you would be scared to confront her.  She had a good body.  Thin but not anorexic.  Athletic but not butch.  The shade of blonde where it always looks sun kissed.  Most would envy her.  In her eyes, she was always flawed.  Thoughts ran through her of being too fat, needing a tuck here and there.  And what is with this hair?  Ugh, she hated her nose.

Her husband Tom was a loving husband.  He was a veterinarian and tried to give her everything she needed.  He had been married twice before and wanted this one to last.  This was going to stick.  Plaintive number 1 was a disaster.  Married too young and married her for her looks.  While he had his trophy wife, trophy wives come at a cost.  He was constantly lonely.  If the humidity level was great than 35% or the outside temperature was higher than 75, she refused to leave the comfort of the house.  Too hot she’d say.  My makeup will melt.  My hair will frizz.  He lived in North Carolina so for 75% of the year he was on his own.  It’d take her 2 ½ hours to get ready when they went to a party or gathering and she would have to leave early so she could strip all the makeup and concealer off and apply her face creams and lotions before bed.  Plaintive 1 does not cause Tom’s depression.

Plaintive 2 was the mother of his 2 beautiful daughters.  The only 2 things in the world that he loved more than Maddison.  Plaintive 2 was a disaster as well.  She struggled with bipolar syndrome.  The marriage lasted just long enough to conceive his twin girls.  After years of therapy, he is now at the point where he can have a civil conversation with Plaintive 2.  Plaintive 2 does not cause Tom’s depression.

Depression ran in his family.  He had a brother out in San Francisco.  A brother he loved dearly.  A brother who lived a different lifestyle from normal.  You see his brother liked other men.  While that is more acceptable in today’s society, it wasn’t 20 years ago.  His brother did the things that gay men do and experimented with drugs as well.  His brother battled depression while living in a society without acceptance.  He had 1 failed suicide attempt under his belt.  That was before he got AIDS.  The second suicide attempt was successful.  Tom’s brother and his brother’s death do not cause Tom’s depression.

Marriage counseling with Maddison was a failure.  It was difficult to council something that wasn’t completely broken.  They were happy together, or at least they told themselves that they were happy.  Being unable to make the woman he loved happy was the cause of Tom’s depression.

Tom worried about Maddison.  She’d often mention how to disappear.  She had a plan.  Drive off in a car.  Dump the car.  Hitch a ride over to the next state.  Wait until nightfall in a ditch on the side of the road.  One shot to the temple.  The cars as they rush by at 70 miles per hour wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t hear the gunshot.  Maybe wouldn’t even see the body until at least 12-24 hours later.

It shouldn’t have surprised Tom the day he found the letter on the bedside table.  The day he found empty bottles of Acepromazine and Butorphanol under the bed.  The empty syringes.  The bottle of Euthasol on the bedside table.  The sticky substance on the floor.  Her lifeless body with just the slight hint of a pulse.

Step 1:  Always use a Luer lock syringe.

                

Maddison had it all planned out.  She always was a planner.  She needed access to the correct drugs.  She was married to a veterinarian for over 10 years.  He always kept extra injectables in his veterinary bag for house calls.  He was the owner of his practice so she had access to the clinic at all hours.  She needed to make a few drugs disappear without getting the staff in trouble.  Acepromazine was easy.  A non-controlled substance, it was easy to make a bottle disappear.  The other 2 would be difficult.  She didn’t “Need” the opioid but figured it would help the transition.  She needed enough to fog her mind out so she wouldn’t tap out at the last second.  Tom was working late that night at the clinic to work on billing.  She’d stop by the clinic that day, maybe bring him lunch and slip the last 2 bottles out of his vet bag that was stored in the truck of his car.  She had already grabbed a few 60 cc syringes and various needles from the clinic.

While sitting on the bed she read over the letter one last time.  She folded it gently and allowed a single tear to soak the paper while she licked the envelope sealed.  She drew up the Acepromazine and slowly injected the contents into her abdomen.  She wouldn’t have long.  Based on her knowledge of the drug through Tom, she would have between 3 and 5 minutes before she was completely passed out.  She then grabbed the pre-drawn syringe of Butorphanol and injected that into her abdomen.  She was already getting woozy.  She continued to exhale until the syringe was empty.  She grabbed the last 60 cc Luer-slip syringe.  This one was different.  A bright fluorescent pink substance seemed to glow and fill the room.  Must be the drugs taking their effect.  She began to slowly inject the substance.  She was getting so tired.  She should have grabbed an IV pump too.  The pressure built higher and higher within the syringe.  Must stay awake.  Finish the job.  Suddenly like an explosion the pressure is gone.  The syringe flies out of her hand and the remaining Euthasol falls to the floor.  As she reaches for the syringe she slides to the floor and everything goes dark.

Three days later Maddison awoke in a hospital bed.  “Oh thank God Maddison.  You’re alive.  Oh thank God you’re alive.  I don’t care why you did it but your’re alive,” Tom rejoiced.

         Maddison attempted to open her dry mouth as it felt like it was glued shut.

“Quick,” Tom explained.  “Remove the tape from the tube.  I think she’s trying to say something.  What is it sweetheart?”

Maddison slowly whispered.  “I know what I did wrong.  Step 1: Always use a Luer lock syringe.”

 

Author's Note

Looking for any feedback and would love to return the favor