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it’s swelling shut. I can’t get enough air.
“I need an ambulance,” I hear him say.
I roll my head around. When did he get to that side of the room? Where are we? He’s
on the phone. He’s talking about someone. Someone sick. Someone is sick. Dying.
Emergency. Pills not working.
He’s talking about me.
He’s crying. Don’t cry. Kara will be fine. Your mom will be fine. You will be fine.
The bed sinks. I’m in quicksand. Someone’s trying to pull me out. His hands are hot.
Why are they so hot?
Something glows in his other hand. It’s his cell phone. He’s saying something, but the
words won’t come clear. Something. Mom. Your mom.
Yes. Mom. I need my mom. She’s already on her way. I hope she’s close.
I close my eyes and squeeze his fingers.
I’m out of time.