Amy fled the lighthouse in a cloud of sorrow, desperate to get back to the hotel. A shortcut across the dunes took her down a quiet, windswept street, which snaked its way behind the beach and led her back to the town square. Keeping her head down so that nobody could see that she was crying, she crossed the lobby, hurried up the stairs, then rushed down the hall and disappeared inside her room. Thankfully, her dad wasn’t there; it seemed he had gone downstairs for a drink, just as he had suggested he might.

Unable to hold in the emotions any longer, Amy collapsed onto the bed and burst into tears. She was so upset that she ripped the chain from around her neck and clenched her mother’s pendant in her fist, squeezing so tightly that its jagged points dug deep into her flesh. She just couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the agony of missing her mother a moment longer. The grief was unrelenting. All she wanted was an escape, a chance to shut off her mind, to close her eyes and get just the tiniest bit of sleep, anything that would let her go one damn minute without having to be constantly reminded of her loss.

Then, amid her despair, Amy realized that her dad had something that could help.

Sniffing back the tears, she leapt off the bed and ran into the other room, straight for his duffel. She unzipped it and pulled out his toiletry bag, inside of which she found a small container full of white tablets: his sleeping pills. He had been taking these for as long as she could remember. They went with him everywhere.

Acutely aware that he could return to the room at any moment, and preferring that he not know she was pilfering his medication, Amy rushed to unscrew the cap, then went to the bathroom to pour a glass of water. She didn’t bother searching the label’s tiny text for directions, didn’t bother counting the pills; instead, she tapped out a small handful, chucked them into her mouth, took a gulp of water, then swallowed. She returned to the room, lay down on the bed, and closed her eyes.

But nothing seemed to happen.

Half an hour passed.

Still nothing.

How long was this supposed to take?

Despite taking them on an empty stomach, Amy didn’t feel the slightest bit drowsy, couldn’t even muster a single yawn. Taking an extra dose crossed her mind, but she decided to wait. To pass the time, she would run a bath, maybe try to eat something, and then if she still wasn’t feeling tired, she’d swallow a couple more.