by C.L. Bevill
* * *
“Swallow this,” Kara said to me. My eyelids opened just a bit, enough to see the middle-aged woman looking worriedly down at me. “Or I’m going to have to give another shot. You’re shaking too much to do it safely. And Zach’s too much of a weenie to want to hold you down like we did for the IV.”
“Kara,” Zach said warningly.
“Get a sense of humor, kid,” Kara advised. “She’s lasted this long, so she’s a fighter.”
“Her name is Sophie.”
“Hmm.”
I swallowed the pill and the water that came with it, and then I choked again. “Relax,” Kara urged. “Relax. Try to relax that gag reflex.”
They said something else and then there was darkness again. I didn’t like the darkness. I kept expecting to open my eyes and see a man sharpening his knife on a whetstone while he looked at me with hungry expectation. And I wouldn’t have the sword my hand seemed to want so desperately.
