It’s 3:00 AM. He’s sitting on the side of his bed, eyes wide open, fingers twitching subconsciously. His eyes darting back and forth, his mind racing, he can’t control himself. He needs his sleeping pills, but he doesn’t have a sleeping problem. He needs to get to a pharmacy or to call his dealer, but his dealer is on vacation and the pharmacy is closed. His eyesight is blurry now; he needs to get these pills. He stands up, and crashes to the floor. How did that happen, he thought. Forget it, I need those pills. He gathers himself and begins to walk to his bedroom door.
A picture of his ex-wife breaks on the floor and begins to combust, a voice similar to hers screaming,
“Jason what have you done?”
It’s 3:30 AM, and he’s only at his bedroom door. He hears the voice of Judge Sampson as he leans on the door.
“I hereby sentence you to 2 ½ years in a rehabilitation facility until your sleeping pill addiction is resolved. The court is adjourned.”
The Gonzalez family screams for justice as Jason serves no jail time for killing his daughter and wife. He punches a hole in the door, hollering,
“The pills did that, not me!”
This is an excuse every addict uses, but no one addresses. He’s in the kitchen now, steak knife in hand.
“How does it feel, killing your daughter you sick freak?” a schizophrenic whispers in Jason’s ear as he envisions himself entering the clinic only 3 months before. He yells at her to shut up, until he looks down, and sees the pills packaged in plastic in his hand. He needed to cut this package open, somehow, some way. As he begins to cut he hears his daughter Kylee kindly says,
“Daddy, please don’t, you don’t need those pills!”
“Go watch TV, honey, I’ll be out there in a minute,” he politely replies as he resumes carving into the package. He goes to back to his room, sensing he can cut it out and take the pills there. He finally cuts the package open, and Jason begins to take the pills right off his skin. As he begins to feel a sense of euphoria, his vision goes black, and he begins to hear a voice:
“Jason, Jason, can you hear me?”
He looks up, sees a doctor hanging over him, trying to bring him back to earth.
“Where’s Kylee?” Jason asks over and over again
“She’s been dead three years, sir, are you alright?” the doctor questions him once more.
“Yeah, I’m fine, where’s my wife?” Jason repeatedly asks.
“She died along with Kylee, sir, do you know where you are?”
“Of course, lying in my bed, having some sleeping pills to help me sleep, just like old times.”
The doctor knows Jason’s not in the right state of mind, the pills are talking, for he hasn’t been home since the trial 3 years ago, he’s been back and forth between the rehabilitation center and the hospital since then.
“He’s gushing blood from the hand, he cut himself open with the needle, I need some assistance here!” the doctor screams as Jason insists that his pills were in his hand. As Jason begins to mumble his “love” for his pills, his eyes begin to close, his body begins to shut down. He’s in withdrawal, everyone thought, and it needs to be stopped immediately. Doctors chest pump him and make numerous attempts at bringing him back to life. Jason has now lost consciousness, and the blood pressure machine went blank. Jason stopped breathing and he never came back. Time of death, 3:00 AM.