She had only been back at work for a week and a half, yet if she could have chosen she would have stayed away much longer than she had. She was tired and ragged and unmistakably high most of the time, but as the Shack had told her to return to work, there was little she could do about returning. Still, it was all she could do to get out of bed in the morning, and out of the house when she was due.
Justin helped her in the morning, was there when she was tired and took Ella to school. All she had to do was get dressed and head to work, yet that alone seemed to be more than she could handle. Every morning she fell asleep on the sofa after Justin had gone, until she managed to wake up long enough to take one of the potions to help her stay awake. Even then she was high strung and had a hard time concentrating, but at least she was there. It kept her from running through the entire stock of potions far too fast. That at least was a good thing.
The longer it took for them to last the longer she could stay away from Quirke. The mere thought of going back made her want to throw up. Did in fact make her throw up. Yet the one she hated wasn't Orla - it was herself.
She was too wrapped up in her own thoughts, in her own prison of self hatred, as she stepped into the greenhouses today, and almost missed the concerned look Neville shot her. Until he spoke, making her jump.
Biting her lip she hoped she wasn't getting fired as she nodded. She needed the work, enjoyed it - or had before. Now all her mind was focused about was pain, and how to relieve it. Though even high she knew she was probably supposed to speak back when talked to, and so she tried (and somewhat failed) to smile.