I opened the first bottle of pills and started the pile. Bottles two and three helped it grow. Four and five made it look lethal. Six, seven, eight. The stash was high. The result is a certainty. I’d need at least a liter of whisky to wash them down. Luckily, I had one to the side of me.

I got the bottle ready and took hold of a fistful of pills, heart thumping to a different tune as I prepared myself. I’d been stalling for another few months again, backing out at the last minute every fucking time. But not this time. Not. This. Time.

Fuck earning credit by being...