You start off as a pan shot of a girl's bedroom. She's sat at her desk clutching a pen tightly. She's writing a note. Due to her hair her face is obscured. But you can see the tears fall and soak into the paper. She puts the pen down, finished, and opens the bottle of drugs she had ready on her desk. She hesitantly pours some out into her hand. She's shaking so much most of them fall off onto the floor. Silently, she tells her family she loves them, tilts her head back and swallows.
The pills work quickly as she falls to the floor. Her vision is so blurry she can barely see and she ends up crying out for her mum. But it's no use. There's darkness at the edge of her vision. She feels the world melt away around her and suddenly she's floating in a void of black, her room floating above her.
Suddenly, her mother rushes into the room. She drops to the floor and clutches her daughter in her arms, tears already forming in her eyes. She screams for her to wake up, for her baby to come back. In the void, the mother embraces the girl in her arms. She kisses her on the forehead, as it fades to black.
The next scene you see is in a hospital. The girl is lying on a bed surrounded by doctors and her anxious parents. None of the treatments they try seem to work. In the other reality, the mother still clutches her daughter tight. There's nothing the doctors can do. The surgeon holds his hand up as the heart rat monitor runs flat. The mother's embrace with the girl is broken. She starts to drift away into the black as her mum returns to the world of the living, tear's dripping off her face.
You change scenes quickly. School memorial assemblies, friends and family crying in each other's arms. The doctor pulling a sheet over the girl's face. The final shot is back where we started. In the girls room. You see a shot from above, her hair spread out on the carpet. In the void, she is barely visible, just her arm is left, slowly sinking into the darkness. You switch focus to the desk. Picture frames with photos of family at the beach, birthdays with friends. You see the pill bottle, open and knocked over. The camera comes to rest on the note she was writing, but only the last line is in focus:
"It's just medicine."