A Message From My Future Self

2: 2

The next morning I pulled on my coat and slid the marriage certificate into my bag.

"Where are you going?"

Samuel came out of the kitchen carrying two plates of fried eggs.

He was in his house clothes, that faint smell of disinfectant clinging to him.

"To pick up some pan-fried buns from that place I like."

My voice was calm, my eyes empty.

Serena wandered out of the guest room with a yawn and pulled out a chair, settling in like she owned it.

"Sam, I want some warm milk."

Samuel turned at once to pour it.

"Careful, it's hot."

Serena looked over at me, her face full of concern.

"Send the driver. You're not well. You shouldn't be running around."

"I want to walk a little."

I didn't wait for her answer. I changed my shoes and left.

As the door shut behind me, I caught Samuel's voice.

"Why do you even bother with her? When she's having an episode she's just a lunatic."

The county clerk's office.

I slid the marriage certificate and my ID through the window.

"Could you check these for me, please."

The clerk tapped at her keyboard a few times, then frowned.

"Ma'am, there's no marriage registration on file for you in the system."

She opened the certificate and studied it carefully.

"The embossed seal and the security markings are both wrong. This is a forgery."

"Ma'am, you need to call the police."

I took the documents back. My fingertips were cold, but my heart beat steadily.

"Thank you. I understand now."

I walked out of the lobby into blinding sun.

Eight years ago, he'd gone down on one knee and said he'd love me for the rest of his life.

To soothe the sense of security my depression had stripped away, he'd booked out the entire clerk's office and staged a grand ceremony just for the signing of our papers.

So it turned out that vow had been a line in the script too.

I went back to the house.

The moment I stepped inside, Samuel came to meet me.

He held a cup of warm water, a few pills resting in his palm.

"Empty-handed? They were out of buns?"

He took my bag from me on the way past.

"The line was too long."

I lowered my head to avoid his eyes.

"It's fine. Take your pills first."

He stroked my hair.

"Good girl, Bren. Take them on schedule and you'll get better."

Those eyes were full of tenderness.

If not for last night, he might have fooled me for the rest of my life.

I took the pills and swallowed them down with the warm water.

"Such a good girl."

Satisfied, he turned away.

I rushed straight into the bathroom, locked the door, and hooked a finger down my throat, bringing the pills up along with a mouthful of sour bile.

Once I'd rinsed my mouth, I sealed the pills into the bag I'd prepared in advance.

That afternoon, I said I was going to the hospital for a follow-up and dropped the pills off at a private testing lab.

At eight that evening, the results came through on my phone.

I sat in the bathtub and opened the file.

Component analysis: levonorgestrel, sedatives in excessive doses, and several hormonal compounds of unknown origin.

Conclusion: not antidepressants.

Taken together over a long period, they could cause endocrine disruption and nerve damage, worsening both the depression and the hallucinations.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, tears striking the screen.

A wave of pure terror and revulsion swept through me.

For eight years, my depression had only deepened, spiraling out of control again and again, until I was even seeing things.

So all along Samuel had been feeding me these, turning me into a madwoman they could handle however they liked.

The screen flickered.

Another video call from the future came through.

The woman on the screen was thinner now, her eyes sunk deep into their sockets.

"Don't cry. Tears are the most useless thing there is."

She coughed hard, blood threading at the corner of her mouth.

"Next, he'll send you to a sanatorium in Switzerland, in the name of treating you."

"There, you'll become a husk who can't even speak."

The words had barely left her when nausea hit me and I doubled over the toilet, retching until the room spun.

The future me watched, and pulled her mouth into a bleak smile.

"Go take a test."

Hands shaking, I dug out a pregnancy test.

Five minutes later, two red lines appeared on it.