I know what triggered it. The boy she read about the other day. I was so worried that this could happen. I know that she needs to get things out but I never know how much is too much. If I know she's struggling I'm careful about what I'll even bring her to read. I know she gets stuff from others so I can't keep every trigger away from her, but I try. This time, I knew... I knew there was a small chance but I just let it go. She has been okay and I thought she could handle it. I should have known better. I just should have.

When she brought it up the other night I hoped that letting her talk and get it out would help, somehow prevent, something. Instead I handed her Pandora's Box and held the lid open for her. Now she's in a bed being pumped full of drugs.

Completely my fault. I have two things in this world that I need to do, go to work and keep my mother as okay and balanced as possible. This week I'm failing at both.

Her doctor made some comment about her coming out of this and he chased it with, "She's a lot like you." Could anything scare me more?