Turning off the light, she closed her eyes, told herself that she’d imagined the horrid voice condemning her to death and that her memories of that blue gown were all part of her confusion. She needed to sleep. To rest. To start all over in the morning. That was it. Sleep.
Her stomach quivered.
Calm down, for God’s sake.
She wanted to spit.
Don’t let this upset you. You’ll be fine.
Nausea threatened.
Just breathe deeply, think quiet thoughts, relax
. . . oh, no!
Bile climbed up her throat.
She was going to throw up!
Panicked, she slapped at the lamp. Hit the switch but knocked the base with her arm. Illumination flashed. The lamp fell onto the pitcher. Water splashed. The bulb splintered into a million shards. The room sizzled into blackness.
No!
Her stomach churned. Scrabbling for the wire cutters with one hand, she pushed the button on the intercom with the other.
“Nick! Carmen!” she yelled, knowing she was about to vomit. “Help!”
Oh, God, she couldn’t stop it. Nausea overtook her.
“Can you hear me? Help!” Please, Nick, please!
She dropped the pliers, picked them up and then doubled over with the cramps. Bile spewed up her throat and into her nose. Burning. Choking. Hunched over, she stumbled through the suite and onto the landing. Her fingers clamped around the wire cutters and she ripped at the bindings on her teeth.
Footsteps thundered two floors down.
Too far away. They couldn’t make it.
The door to Cissy’s room burst open. She took one look at her mother and screamed. “Mom! Oh, God, Mom! Help!”
Marla was on the floor, writhing and gasping, choking, working the cutters. Her nose burned, her lungs were on fire, water streamed from her eyes. The hall began to spin and darken. Footsteps. She heard thundering footsteps.
Suddenly Nick loomed above her, his face a mask of concern. “Jesus Christ!” Straddling her, he yanked the cutters from her hand and yelled to Cissy, “Call 911. Now!”
The teenager didn’t move.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, forcing her mouth open, snipping wildly at the wires as Marla retched and struggled for air. She choked, convulsing, her eyes feeling as if they were bulging from their sockets.
“Hold on Marla, for God’s sake, hold on,” Nick ordered, as her jaw began to loosen. “Shit!”
Marla convulsed, certain she was dying, her lungs bursting. The world turned dark.
Wires snapped. Pain shot through her mouth. “For Christ’s sake call the paramedics!” Nick bellowed. “Where’s the damned nurse?”
She couldn’t breathe . . . it was so dark . . .
Snip! Snip! Snip!
“Hang in there, Marla, just hang the hell in there,” he said and she was vaguely aware of his face, all tense angles, sweat running down his jaw as her body wracked and the blackness of unconsciousness swept over her. “For the love of God, Marla, hang in there!”