Do You Really Think...

I furrowed my brows and shifted around uncomfortably on the floor.

"Mildred has been destroying her body?"

Ned leaned back in his seat and sighed.

"...That's the gist of it, yeah."

I turned to look in Mildred's direction, where her bed was. Although I couldn't see Mildred, it was not hard to tell she was there from the soft thumping sounds and creaking from the bedposts.

She was still convulsing.

After a few moments, I spoke up.

"Why... why is this happening? Is it because she drank too much alcohol?"

Ned was silent for a moment, but eventually answered.

"Kind of. When people drink alcohol, it makes their minds feel different."

I looked in Ned's direction.

"Different? What do you mean by that?"

Ned shrugged his shoulders.

"You know, drunk. Basically, it just makes them feel better."

I blinked a few times.

"Oh... ok."