AS TIRED AS I WAS, I couldn’t go to sleep, the same thoughts keeping me awake that left me staring into the dark most nights.
I kept thinking of Joan. And that night.
I had run the entire scene in my head hundreds—thousands—of times. That night was no different. I replayed everything that happened again and again. I couldn’t stop it, no matter how much I tried. It was as if I was forcing myself to relive it over and over again to punish myself. The only way it stopped is if I slept.
That night, thought, other thoughts ran through my head. Questions I had no answers to, questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answers to.
I got up, turned the light on, and went through my bag, pulling out a bottle of sleeping pills filled six months ago, a 30-day dose. There were still 20 pil
