Chapter Twenty-Six

 

One
thing you should probably be told about Malory is that with every new doctor,
counsellor, e.t.c, came a new pot of pills or bottle of medicine that she was
trusted to take without reminder or complaint.

As
you can guess, this wasn’t what Malory did.

Her
medication was never taken; though she was clever enough to pour her daily dose
of medicine down the sink and hoard the ‘used’ pills in her jewellery box.

Malory
Whitebled was never going to be as conformist as to take ‘happy-pills’ as she
referred to the anti-depressants as, or ‘crazy-drugs’ as the lithium tablets
had been christened.

The
reason she didn’t throw out her pills was for a terrible reason.

In
case things got so bad she needed to take so many that she died, and a knife
entailed a very bloodstained deathbed.

The End

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