The silence of the room rushed in to fill the space Jason had left. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic bird in a cage. I tried to stand, but my legs were water; I collapsed back onto the silk duvet, my breath coming in jagged hitches.
Focus, Sarah. Think.
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the chemical fog that threatened to pull me back under. Through the haze, the digits flickered like a neon sign in the distance. 555... 01... No, that wasn't it. I gripped the sheets, my knuckles white. 555-0198. That was it. Elena’s son. My lifeline.
It took me nearly five minutes just to crawl toward the bathroom. My coordination was shot, my movements jerky and ungraceful. I managed to turn on the shower, the roar of the water drowning out the sound of my own despair. I didn't stand.
