Chapter 21: Sickening Hallucinations

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ELARA
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"Mom?" My voice breaks when I see the beautiful woman before me.

Her eyes hardened and the wrinkles at the corner of her mouth become more defined as she frowns.

Shaking her head, she speaks, "Elara, what did you?"

I look at her with confusion. Suddenly, the bottle of pills in my hand become noticeable. I glance down at them. The memory stings as I try to breathe.

"I-I. . ." As hard as I try to explain myself, I can't. Stealing medication on the Ark was punishable by death. It was a capital crime.

My father pushes his way inside our flat. He wore a dark expression as he frantically made his way to my mother.

"They know the pills are missing. I overheard a guard from third shift saying they were able to trace it back to our room," he explains.

My mother quickly snatches the pills from my hand.

"You know what the consequences are, Elara. How could you do this?"

I don't look at her. "I'm sick. . ."

"You're sick?" Her voice comes out as sharp as a shard of glass. "You're a child. Feeling 'depressed' doesn't give you the right to go and steal pills to make it better,"

Depression was something that my parents never understood with me. They thought I was just going through a phase, but I wasn't. Depression is a real sickness that I couldn't control. The pills made me feel better. I had taken one a day, every day. I've been stealing a bottle a month from the infirmary without getting caught. . .until today that is.

"What're we going to do, Jill?" My father asks.

My mother slaps a hand to her forehead. Before she has anytime to speak, there's pounding at the door.

"Matheson family, open up!"

My parents hesitate before opening the door. About five guards push their way inside. I stand up from the chair I was sitting on and back away.

"By the law of the medical act, no medical supplies should be stolen for any purposes, no matter the situation." A guard informs. His eyes shift to mine and I bite my bottom lip, hoping for a miracle.

He clears his throat to speak once more, "A bottle of anti-depression pills were stolen at 7:38am. With the tracker on the pill bottle we were able to determine the-" he looks down at the bottle in my mother's hand.

She shifts from one foot the other. "Our daughter. . ." My mother starts to explain. "We did it for my daughter,"

I am taken back by her words. My mother was never one to take the blame for something someone has done, especially if it results in death.

"Very well," the guard says. He looks over his shoulders at the other guards behind him before saying, "take them,"

The four other guards slam both of my parents to the ground, handcuffing them. I scream for them to release my parents but they refuse to listen. I try to explain that it was me who stole the drugs, that it was me they should be taking. Tears spill violently over my eyes as I plead over and over for them to stop.

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