Ellie watched David with frightened, owlish eyes. They followed him as he read the label, popped the cap, examined the little greyish pill -- and they saw, of course, the little instant that something like recognition lit his face. The fear in it afterward concerned her; she sat up immediately, nauseous at the sudden movement, and brought her hands over her eyes again. I'm going insane. Was David saying things? He seemed to be saying things, but Ellie couldn't quite hear them over the blood rushing to her head.
You said Margaret gave these to you?
She nodded dumbly, weakly. These can kill you. Of course, because trouble came in threes. Wasn't that the saying? She dropped her hands again, feeling helpless and emotional and odd; then the water felt nice against her dry tongue, but she found herself choking, overwhelmed. I'm hyper-ventilating.
There was a small, frustrated whimper as she attempted another sip of water; in the end Ellie nearly dropped the bottle entirely, eyes swimming with tears. "I-I-It can't be on purpose," she told David, sniffling. "Wh-why would...?"
Then she remembered the journal again. Too much. Too many things at once. "I can't," she whispered, rocking slightly. "Wh-Why. Why."