No Exit by Taylor Adams 2

Okay.
Then count to five. Exhale—
“Darby.” The girl shook her. “Stop.”
“Yeah? I’m here.”
“You were closing your eyes.”
“It’s fine.”
“No. Promise me, promise, that you won’t close your eyes
—”
“Alright.” She lifted her duct-taped right hand. “I pinkieswear.”
“Still not funny. Please, Darby.”
She was trying, but she still felt her eyelids drooping, an
inevitable tug into darkness. “Jay, tell me. What was the name
of your favorite dinosaur?”
“I told you already.”
“Again, please.”
“Why?”
“I just want to hear it.”
She hesitated. “Eustreptospondylus.”
“That’s …” Darby laughed weakly. “That’s such a stupid
dinosaur, Jay.”
The girl smiled through tears. “You couldn’t spell it
anyway.”
Somehow, this patch of lumpy ice felt more comfortable
than any feather bed she’d ever lain in. Every bruised inch of
her body felt perfectly at rest here. Like settling into a wellearned
sleep. And again, she felt her eyelids slipping shut. No
pain in her chest anymore, just a dull, increasing pressure.
Jay whispered something.
“What’d you say?”