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You grab the bottle of wind and chug down several big swigs, choking and gasping as your weeping sends it down the wrong pipe.  You slump back into the chair and stare blankly into the void.  You begin to imagine all the individuals that may have their hands on them.  You can't help but think that the photos are all over the internet by now.  Anyone could google you by now and have pages of torrid photos at their disposal.  A sudden disgusting image blankets you, imagining your Dad finding one or more of those horrible photos online.  You grab the bottle again, gulping down huge swallows until it sputters and dribbles from your lips.  You gasp for air and hurl the bottle across the room, shattering it against the wall in a blood red splash.  The wine drips ominously down the wall, pooling on your beige carpet.  You bury your face in your hands and cry, your whole body shuttering and wrenching with pain and indignation.  Your throat begins to get raw and hoarse from all the screaming and crying.  You stand to go get a glass of water, but suddenly your legs buckle beneath you, sending you crashing into the coffee table.  Glass shards rain down around you and a couple splinters of wood stick into the lush carpet.  You push your chest off the ground but are unable to stand.  Your head feels fuzzy and warm......the pills!  Suddenly you become aware that you are being overcome by the effects of the handful of painkillers....and the wine probably didn't help either.  You try desperately to pull yourself up, but to know avail.  You try to crawl, looking frantically for your phone but your thoughts become less and less coherent with each passing second.  You see your phone, laying in the middle of the couch.  You reach for the cushions but gravity seems to be pulling your harder and harder to the ground.  You grasp for the phone, digging your nails into the couch, trying to pull yourself closer.  Your fingers just graze the edge of the phone before your last bit of strength evaporates and you crumple, lifeless to the floor.  You lay there, staring underneath the couch.  Your slow breath moves the dust bunnies from side to side until finally, your vision fades to a dark tunnel, and then to black. 

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