Losing Control

Losing Control

The school hallways were dimly lit after school let out and you could only hear the faint sounds of the basketball team practicing for the next game. The school was fairly new, but the gray painted walls made it look grim in any light. Everyone had already gone home and I stood waiting at the end of the senior hallways for my friend to show up. She was usually a little late, but an hour was ridiculous.

I glance at my watch. 4:35. Jane was not the most reliable person when it came to being on time, but I was beginning to worry. With most of the time to study already past, I decided to look for her. She had chemistry last, so I thought it would be a good idea to check the classroom. Though I didn't expect to find anything there, sometimes the teacher would stay behind to grade papers. At least, she might know where Jane went.

When I arrived it appeared that the teacher had already headed home, but something was out of place. Jane's backpack and notebook were still propped up next to her seat. I noticed a small bottle hanging out of her backpack. Picking it up I read the label out loud to myself. “Xanax” I began to worry about where Jane was. The bottle of Xanax was empty and it would only take one or two to knock somebody out. I tucked the empty pill bottle into my pocket and headed straight to the bathroom.

I knew Jane was having some problems with her parents, but I never believed that she would actually do anything so drastic. I was beginning to think I didn't know my friend as well as I thought. When I opened the bathroom door I heard something drop to the ground. I looked at the nearest stall to see Jane open the door.

“What are you doing in here?” I asked.

“I. . “ Jane started. “Rachel you were supposed to wait outside for me.”

“I've been waiting over an hour,” I stated. “I was beginning to worry, and you are not answering my question. What are you doing in here?”

“I was beginning to feel sick in chemistry,” Jane replied, simply.

I stared at her unbelieving and pulled out the pill bottle.

“What are you doing with this?”

“Where you looking through my stuff?” Jane snapped, grabbing the bottle. “My mom wanted me to fill her prescription on the way home.”

“It was in plain sight, and the pharmacy isn't going to let you fill that prescription for your mother. Xanax is a strong anti-anxiety drug.”

“Can you lay off the nursing references please?” Jane asked, grabbing her purse from the stall. I noticed a speck of blood on the side of the toilet and immediately looked at Jane who was stuffing something into her purse. I grabbed her arm and she tried to pull away, but failed as I pulled her sleeve up revealing her severely cut up arm.

“Jane. . .” I started.

“It's nothing,” she said, pulling her sleeve back down. “I fell.”

“That is the best accuse you can come up with?” I asked. “You need to talk to someone.”

“I'm fine,”

“No you're not. You went to three parties last week and every one of them someone found you passed out in the bathroom after drinking too much. You are stealing your mom's anti-anxiety medication and now you are hurting yourself. Those are clear signs that you are not fine. You're losing control.”

No I'm not,” Jane shouted.

“I know you are having a hard time at home. I didn't say anything when you changed your clothes and dyed your hair. Or when you tried to stay out of your house as much as possible, but this is effecting your well being.”

Jane sat on the bathroom floor and I sat down next to her. I could see the tears welling up in her eyes and I too began to cry.

“You're slowly killing yourself by doing all this,” I continued. “Believe it or not there are people who care about you. I don't want to lose one of my best friends and even if your parents are not there for you I know that you're grandmother is. She has told you that you can move in with her.”
“I know,” Jane mumbled, putting her head in her hands. “I just don't know what to do. I'm afraid.”

“I'm afraid for you,” I said, hugging her close. “The first thing you need to do is talk to somebody. The counselor comes in early. You could always talk to her.”

“She won't understand,”

“That is what she is here for. If she can't help you, she will find someone who will. You don't have to do this alone.”

Jane sat in silence for several minutes.

“Will you come in with me tomorrow?” she finally asked.

“Of course.”