His eyes widen with pure fucking terror.
"EpiPen," I choke out. The word barely makes it past my lips.
Lorenzo goes pale. "Valentina!" he roars, and the entire room freezes. “Her bag. Now."
Valentina is moving before he's finished speaking. The chair crashes behind her as she sprints from the room.
Everything happens at once, there’s so much noise and yet I can’t make out much. Lorenzo helps me onto the ground, my breathing sounds horrendous as I struggle to gasp for air, everything is fading, but all I can focus on is Lorenzo, because he's kneeling in front of me, and his hands are shaking.
"Stay with me." His voice cracks.
"I'm okay," I try to say, but it comes out as a wheeze.
His jaw clenches. “Stay with me,” he pleads.
"Found it!" Valentina's voice.
She's back, and the EpiPen is in Lorenzo's hand. His relief is so immediate it almost hurts to look at.
"I've got you," he says. His voice is rough and unsteady, nothing like Lorenzo. "I've got you."
The injector presses against my thigh, and a second later it fires.
Pain blooms, then relief. Except it isn't relief, not really. I drag in a breath, but it catches halfway down. A horrible wheezing sound escapes me.
No, no, no, no. The EpiPen should be working.
It always works. Maybe not immediately, but enough that I can breathe, and the panic starts to ease enough that I know I'm going to be okay.
This isn't easing.
Why isn’t it working?
Panic claws its way up my throat, my chest feels tight. Too tight, like someone is standing on it.
"She's not improving." I don’t know who says that, they sound far away.
"Call an ambulance,” Lorenzo thunders, the order cracks through the room.
"It's already done," someone says. It sounds like I’m underwater.
I try to breathe again, but I can't. The room tilts slightly and I wonder if this is it? If this is how I die?
Lorenzo's hands are on either side of my face. "Quinn."
I look at him, or try to, but everything is blurry now.
His eyes are wild, terrified. I've never seen him look like this.
"Stay with me."
I nod, at least I think I do.
My fingers are tingling, my lips feel numb, the pressure in my chest is getting worse.
Not better, worse.
"Fuck." The word tears out of Lorenzo, raw and helpless.
