I see it in my peripheral vision—a syringe. He's pushing the plunger down, injecting something into my muscle.
"No," I gasp, still fighting. "No no no?—"
The world starts to blur.
Edges going soft and fuzzy.
His face above me, the ski mask still on, his eyes visible now in the morning light. Blue. So fucking blue it doesn't make sense.
"I'm sorry," he's saying, but his voice sounds distant. Underwater. "I'm sorry, I didn't—you weren't supposed to?—"
The words don't make sense.
Nothing makes sense.
My limbs are going heavy. Too heavy to fight anymore.
"Please," I whisper, but I don't know what I'm asking for.
The cold is disappearing. The fear is disappearing.
Everything is disappearing.
His face. The snow. The light.
All of it fading to black.
