She opened her eyes, hopeful but pessimistic. It still loomed above her. Dark and dreary, the rain cloud over her head glared down at her. Sighing regretfully, she pulled her blankets over her head and allowed the darkness beneath to envelop her. Another day. What good would this one do? Perhaps drag her laden body one day closer to death. Nothing more. She knew nothing good could come from the outside and longed to stay safely wrapped in her bed. However, the scent of stale disinfectant and the sterile white washed surroundings she knew would come had she permanently resigned to bed pushed her. She mustered whatever strength she could and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, throwing her body after them.

            The sun peaked through the cracks in the blinds, begging to be let into the shadowed room. Birds chirped cheerfully, white clouds lay gracefully against the crisp blue sky. Beads of dew clung to the slips of jade green grass. She wanted none of it. Let them have their glory. She reached up and twisted the wand, squeezing the blades tighter to interrupt the small yet steady stream of golden rays from the gracious morning outside. As the light seeped away, darkened scars peered out from behind her sleeve. Fresh wounds covered those that had long since faded away.

            She sleepily dragged herself past her bureau. Plastic bottles with various labels and doses cluttered the surface. Not a pill had been taken from its snug nest amidst its brothers. Prescription dates trailed only a few years back. It sneered at the putrid and hopelessly futile attempt to destroy his reign, then followed her into the bathroom.

             Glancing over her shoulder, she felt its presence throughout the day. The cold hand that laid upon her shoulder and never loosened its grip pressed her on, careful not to push too hard for fear of losing its captive, but just enough to keep its power over her steady and strong. But there was no cause for alarm. After ten years her spirit and determination had been broken and was its to direct, to shape, and to wane. Even she refused the pills, those God forsaken pills, much thanks to the exaggerated side effects. And that damned therapist boring deep into her barricaded and troubled mind. She resisted. She was fearful. And he sat grinning smugly in the far corner, arms folded proudly over his chest, admiring his work.

            Even in the darkest hour they shared it. Every tear, every pain, every cut and drop of blood, it was theirs together. It followed her through the years, sat among her bears and dolls, looked on over her make up and mirrors. Unlike the many changes in her life, it was always there, always the same, disheartening but familiar. Frightening, but constant, stable. A loyal and yet destructive friend. How could she betray such a fantastic being? Her friends all came and went. She was a magnet for dramatics, a tangled mass of emotions and paranoia much too powerful for any of them to understand or contend with. It was easier to turn their backs and never give a second glance. He was always there to comfort her. They mourned the losses together.

            It was with her that night. He paced the floors while she sat at the foot of her bed, her head bowed. With every slight movement, the pills rattled in the bottle, echoes of each little tablet clacking against one another bounded off the walls, resounding in the dark corners of her mind. She pried the lid off the open bottle and poured out the remaining pills into her palm. It stared on silently, a streak of simple panic shooting through him. In losing her, it’d lose his own power. She gripped the plastic cup in hand, filled half way with water. Had it lingered too long? Pushed her too far? She poured out the tablets in her hand and forced them down her throat. Lying down on the bed, she closed her eyes and waited to die. He sat perched on her bedpost, keeping watch over her throughout the night, a gargoyle in the blackness. A fallen angel whose harmful intent cloaked his jagged and torn wings. He watched and waited.

            Failure. Like everything else in life she failed even now when so dreadfully close to death. The pills were not enough, the toxins had come and gone, and she went on to live another day. It smiled, even allowed himself a chuckle of foolish pride and self content. It had won once more. Its reign continued.

            More pills cluttered the bureau, not all for him. Some were for the unbearable pain that plagued her weakening body everyday; migraines, stabbing pains here, shooting pains there, excruciating, endless. Deep searing pains that drove her to utter madness, pains her therapist regarded as psychological, her doctor of course could find no source. He dragged his gnarled hands over her flesh, rended her skull with his ragged nails, breaking her body as he did her spirit. Soon the side effects of these pills were too much to stand either, and they remained where they stood, gathering dust with the rest.

            She lived on with it at her back, clawing at her neck, whispering in her ear, casting a shadow forward on the days to come. No light was seen on the horizon, no end was near to bring peace. Her body ached, tired and sore, her mind throbbed, confused, clouded, and her heart was all but dead, too battered to love, too scarred to trust. She faced the storm, day after day, pleading for it to end without the strength to carry out the sentence herself.

            It turned her head. It moved her hand. Her eyes fell upon the bureau, her fingers thumbed the child safety caps. Of all the samples of tried and failed pills, there were more than enough left over to end it all this time. Would tomorrow be different? Was there any hope left to cling to? Nothing but what ifs and maybes lingered in the air about her. She put down the bottle and, hand trembling, vision blurred, desperately called the doctor.

            It took a long wait at the office, stealthy avoidance of asylum commitment, and several phone calls for emergency psychiatry to insurance companies and MDs alike. It watched from a distance. It knew his power was still strong over her and she would retreat to him before the month was out. She was too scared. But she went to the psychiatrist; a step he hadn’t counted on. The doctor saw the severity of this storm overhead and prescribed two medications simultaneously; a feat she herself had never conquered in her practice. It laughed at her. Mocked her. It knew the girl would never take her pills. The nausea, dizziness, headaches, they would all keep her at bay. Her memory suffered already from a previous sample era.

            She took them. She continued them. Despite the side effects. Feeling betrayed, he shied away slowly, allowing a distance between the two, a hurt deep in the heart he never knew he had. She went to therapy. She carefully lowered her walls. She talked. Slowly, she healed. She slipped from his grasp.

            The pills tapered off. The therapy sessions spread in time. And it stayed himself in the darker corner of the room, watching helplessly, weakening with every stride she made, every feat she conquered. But she turned to him in her times of need and he was there. He heard her helpless pleas and rushed to her side, drawing from her the simple strength needed in his last flailing attempt to regain control over her. She stopped her pills once or twice, for a brief moment he allowed himself a sigh of relief. But the cold that bore deep into her, the darkness and loneliness, the despair and the bottomless pit she fell through awakened her better judgment. She continued her pills. His was a feeling she never wanted to know again. He slipped away, crouched over, beaten, mangled from this battle he’d never expected to fight, much less lose.

            She opened her eyes. The air above her was clear and fresh. She laid the blankets back and slowly pulled herself from her bed. Her heart trembled. She was alone. The room stood quiet. An uneasy quiet, a piercing silence. She yearned for her blankets, the soft of her pillows, but pulled herself to the window. The birds were chirping, the sun shone bright, and crystal clear droplets of dew clung to the vividly green grass. Reaching up, she twisted the wand and slanted the blinds, allowing for little light to fill the room. Breathing a sigh of relief, she admired the world before her. It was an uncertain world, a world she hadn’t known, hadn’t seen in ten long years. But it was a world she would soon come to know again.

            A dark corner remained in the room, but nothing was there to taunt her.