“Where’s the IV? What is she? Forty-three kilograms? Dammit, that makes the dose too high. No, give me zero point two mils of tricyclic clomipramine. Now, please.”
A sharp, deep prick and burning. The voices didn’t stop, they merely sped up, getting louder, beating a strange cadence against the inside of her skull. The needles never shut out those voices, they only took away her understanding of them. Memory remained. Drifts of it, like autumn…
