I fell into the living room.
I should stop. I needed sleep. So tired…
I could close my eyes for only a moment.
But…tourniquet.
I whimpered as I forced myself back to my feet and stumbled to one side, catching myself on the sofa. Bloody handprints stained the fabric as I pushed forward and gasped for breath. My energy flagged.
No time to make a tourniquet. Consciousness fled as blackness crept up. I staggered through the master bedroom into his communications room.
I lit upon the lamp, glowing a soft white. My finger grazed the button forREDbefore I collapsed onto the carpeted floor.
23
Until I Die
The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.
—ERNEST HEMINGWAY
Iswam in darkness with nothing but stars sparkling above me. Cold water crept into the cracks of my very soul. Like a vacuum, it lured me toward a looming void beneath.
Despite the cold, I burned. Every move stung and scorched, cauterizing me from the inside out. The water grew colder the deeper I went.
The void promised relief, and I swam toward it.
A jolt, a bright flash of pain, had me crying in protest.
“Stay with me, Sophia!”
I pushed the voice away. I wanted the void.
My heartbeat throbbed in my arms and knees, sharper in my leg and abdomen. Agony ebbed and flowed with the waves around me.
“Sophia, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking let go.”
I sank into the cold ocean, drowning, languishing in the knowledge it would end soon. Meaningless words drifted through the water—a voice I recognized, but couldn’t place. I bobbed in and out of the abyss, floating in freezing waves until the burning began to ease. A different sort of warmth enveloped me, enticing me away from the cold.
“Sophia, please. Open your eyes.”
I groaned, begging wordlessly to go back under.
“No, sweetheart, don’t fight. You’ll rip the stitches.”
Was I fighting? I let my muscles relax, and the pain of my various wounds eased. Again and again, a warm, worried voice coaxed me into obedience.
I liked that voice.
Comforting.
Safe.
At some point, the timelessness converted back to seconds and minutes. My body beached itself somewhere on the shores of consciousness.
“Please,”the voice whispered. “Please open your eyes.”
Powerless to disobey, my lids cracked. The world swam into focus. An IV line sprouted from a vein on my hand. The tubing led to bags of fluid hanging on a hook above the bed. I focused on the letters. Saline and antibiotics. The bedside table was littered with empty vials.
