Connecting the Meds

Antipsychotics. The word sat like lead in Sarah’s stomach. She clutched the amber vials, her thumb tracing the faded labels. *E. Vance. 1999.* The date on the prescription matched the exact months Elena was supposed to be sketching the Duomo.

She scrambled back toward her laptop, the floorboards groaning under her frantic movements. The blue light of the screen was the only thing piercing the gloom of the attic.

She needed to know if the chemical compound in these old vials was a match for the pill she had swiped from Lily’s nightstand. If Elena was using the same "management" on a sixteen-year-old that Margaret had used on her, the threat wasn't just psychological. It was a slow-motion erasure of Lily’s mind.

Sarah pulled up the pharmacology database, her fingers flying across the keys. She typed in the drug name from the amber vial: *Chlorpromazine*.

The loading circle spun. And spun.

"Come on," Sarah hissed, tapping the side of the laptop.

Suddenly, the signal bars in the corner of the screen plummeted. The browser window flared white. *No Internet Connection.*

Sarah looked at the router on the desk. The power light was blinking a rhythmic, mocking red. Margaret. She must have cut the Wi-Fi from the main box downstairs. Or perhaps Elena had done it remotely.

The walls of the attic felt like they were closing in. The heat was a physical weight, pressing the air out of her lungs. She couldn't stay here. If they had cut the internet, they knew she was digging. They were coming for her.

She shoved the vials into her tote bag along with the medical textbook and the unmailed postcards. She didn't use the stairs; she scrambled down the back fire escape, her sneakers slipping on the rusted metal rungs.

She sprinted for her car, the engine turning over with a desperate roar. She didn't go home. Her apartment was the first place they’d look.

Ten minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot of the Oakhaven Public Library. It was a low, brick building, a sanctuary of public information and anonymous Wi-Fi.

Sarah bypassed the rows of fiction and headed straight for the computer lab in the back. She sat at a corner station, her back to the wall, and logged in.

She opened the same database. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to grip the edge of the desk to steady them. She typed in the physical description of the blue pill she’d taken from Lily: *Round. Pale blue. Scored.*

The database populated with several matches. She narrowed the search by chemical properties, cross-referencing the antipsychotic listed on Elena’s old vials.

The screen flickered, then stabilized.

Sarah stared at the results. A cold, sharp shiver traveled down her spine, bypassing the summer sweat.

The chemical compound was a match. Elena was giving her sixteen-year-old niece heavy antipsychotics to keep her compliant.