She tried to answer, but nothing came out. Her mouth opened and closed. Her eyes were wide with panic.
She kept pointing at her pocket with trembling hands.
I immediately realized it was asthma and she needed her inhaler. I dropped to my knees and searched inside her pocket. But it was empty.
"It must have fallen when we ran," I said. My throat felt tight.
Althea’s chest heaved harder. Each breath sounded wet and desperate. Her hand clawed at her shirt like she could tear the air open herself.
Her knee buckled, and I caught her weight before she hit the ground. "What do we do now?" I whispered.
I didn’t realize I was crying until my vision blurred.
"Althea, please don’t die. We’ll get out of here safely, okay. Just hold on," Beatrice begged, already crying too. Her voice shook,
