13
I feel great. I’m not even all that concerned that Betty is about to try to kill me. The only thought I have is that it’s no wonder people ruin their lives taking this morphine stuff. It’s pretty awesome.
Somewhere I hear a door open. I’m only mildly interested.
I see Betty with a pillow in her hands. This reminds me that I’m supposed to remember something, but I’m distracted by this strange itch that I’m feeling on my arm. When I scratch the itch, it feels amazing.
Then Betty lowers the pillow on my face.
My respiration rate is slower than usual from the morphine; a memory surfaces, and through my opiate haze, I realize this pillow will make it even harder for me to breathe.
Phase into the Quiet, that’s what I’m supposed to do. But it requires me to be scared, which is hard at th
