I stop as my hand bumps into a bottle of grape Nyquil. It toppples over, causing a chain reaction of tipping bottles, spilling pills all over the bathroom floor. The colorful pills mix with the sticky purple Nyquil, creating an amazing array of colors.

As I start pushing the pills around, a face appears in the puddle. Oh crap. I grab the toilet brush and start swatting at the face, which of course, doesn’t disappear as I hoped. Instead it splits into hundreds of little faces, one for every droplet of Nyquil, which now clings to every imaginable surface. Every face says the same thing, over and over.

“You are such a loser. Why do you even bother to live? You are a waste of space and precious air.”

I scream and run out of the bathroom, but the voice follows me wherever I go. As I run downstairs, everything starts spinning, I grab the railing, but can’t stay upright. I end up crawling down the stairs, into the kitchen, and try to reach the phone.