Page 58 of Dangerously Tempting

“Air,” I question. “Isn’t that a myth?” Maybe it’s stupid to point that out, but I’m not really willing to just let her try it and find out. Not that I have too much of a choice in the matter. She scoffs and while she’s rolling her eyes again I look down at where the IV is inserted into my vein, rolling an idea around in my head.

She chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure you’re really praying that’s the case right now. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but it’s not a myth at all. Do you know what happens when air goes into your veins?”

I shake my head, honestly not knowing, but sure that she’s about to tell me. She turns towards the machine as she starts telling me about it, and I work on loosening one side of the tape holding the IV in place with my injured arm, trying not to grimace at the movement, before sticking it back down so she doesn’t notice.

“See, when the air goes into the IV, it will make its way down the tube. Just like this fluid drip they have you on, it’ll follow it right down into your vein.” She runs her fingers down the tube, stopping at the full extension of her arm, not moving away from the machine. “From there, it may as well be a blood clot. If it goes to your brain, you’ll have a stroke. If it goes to your heart, you’ll experience cardiac arrest. Your lungs would be in respiratory failure if it went there.”

She smiles widely like she’s proud of herself for introducing me to the many ways that I might die. I’m sure that’s exactly what’s going through her head right now. She’s overjoyed with being the one to drown me in terror. She’s succeeded, that’s something I won’t deny, but if she thinks I’ll just lay here and die she’s dumber than I thought.

“So it’s that simple, huh? You’re just going to put the air in there and then that’s it for me? Doesn’t seem very fair, honestly. Feels like the easy way out. For you at least.”

“Well, that is the idea. Get in, get it done, and get out,” she shrugs. “But you’ve been distracting and your friend in there was an added nuisance that I didn’t expect, so I’ve already been here too long. Let’s get this show on the road!”

I tense. I don’t know what to do, but at the same time I have a plan in mind that I don’t know will even work. Making a ruckus might be my best chance to get out of here, but if whoever hears it doesn’t have a key to the damn door, that’s not going to do anything at all. I suppose at least she’ll get caught that way, no matter what happens to me. She’ll go to jail and Jameson will be free of her.

I square my shoulders. Fuck this. I’m gonna make a commotion and I’m also going to rip this damn IV out of my arm just when she starts to think that she’s succeeded. She’ll have to put some damn effort into my death if that’s the way this goes.

She pulls the plunger back on the syringe, getting it ready as she watches me. “You gonna start begging for your life? It’s not gonna help any, but I like to know the way that things are going to go. Gotta plan for the speedbumps, ya know?”

“No. I’m not going to beg.”

“Ah, so you’ll do it for Jameson but not for your life, huh?”

I bristle. This bitch and the level of audacity that somehow fits into her skinny, no-assed body is absolutely beyond me. For her to think she knows absolutely anything about Jameson and I spirals me into a rage, totally blacking out any lingering fear that I may have had.

She reaches up to push the syringe into the little port for adding extra medications and with no hesitation whatsoever, smashes down the plunger. I can see the bubbles in the tube almost immediately as the steady drip of fluids surrounds it and my focus narrows on it.

It’s somehow moving both faster and slower than I thought that it would, and I lift my eyes for just a moment to find her watching it too. I’m almost certain that she’s holding her breath, and it’s almost laughable that she thinks I’m just going to sit here until my veins suck this shit up.

She’s so focused on watching the bubbles descend down the line that she doesn’t see as I peel the tape away from my skin again, this time working the whole piece back. It’s already getting too close for comfort for me, so I go ahead and yank it out. I’ve never removed one by myself before, so the initial spray of blood startles me at first, but I decide better out than in, in this case, and push myself up.

Her eyes follow the tube as it drops to the floor, her mouth falling open in surprise. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, staggering to my feet, and throw myself at her. I might not be able to keep my legs solid beneath me, but I can sure as shit take this bitch down with me.

I tangle my fingers into her hair, yanking her head back as we both tumble to the ground, and she curses, throwing her elbow back into my ribs. I’m still so sore from everything else that I hiss in pain before tightening my fingers in her hair to smack her face on the floor. The move is purely revenge for the amount of times she smashed my own into the floor, and I get a sick satisfaction from the crunch that follows. She shrieks, and her nose starts gushing blood. Her head is close enough to get my injured arm to grip as well, and I take it, even though pain screams through my shoulder.

“Did you think I’d just take it, you dumb bitch?” I shout, smacking her face on the floor again, as she claws at my hands in her hair, trying to get free from me. I won’t let her. I don’t care if she’s breaking skin or that we’re rolling around on the floor in a mix of her blood and my own. I just know that I have to hold out until help comes.

I consider trying to make a run for the door, but I don’t exactly trust my legs right now. She’s given up on trying to get my hands out of her hair and has started trying to claw at my face instead. I keep hold of her, even as she rolls and bucks like a bull beneath me, swinging her arms at me as she kicks her legs out. She’s flailing so much that the IV pole loses balance and I let one hand free of her hair to give it the additional push it needs to fall over and make a loud noise.

Surely someone heard that shit, if there’s someone in the next room over, they’re having to hear all this, right? Is a hospital like a big city, and they just ignore any strange noise that might reach their ears so long as it isn’t them? I sure as hell hope not. I might have the upper hand right now, but I’m losing steam pretty quickly and don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold out like this.

Removing my hand from her hair gives her more freedom than I thought it would, and her elbow catches me in the side of my head. The blow stuns me for a moment, causing my other hand to lose its grip. It’s all the upper hand she needs to turn the tides and I curse my stupidity as she pins me to the floor. She wrenches my injured arm at an odd angle and I scream.

It’s absolute agony, and my stomach churns violently at the pain. I suck in a breath to steady myself to use what little strength I have left and throw my good arm into a swing, clapping her over the ear. She drops to the side like a sack of rocks, wailing. I must have burst her eardrum like I was trying to do, but I don’t take the time to be satisfied with my success.

I quickly drag myself across the floor, trying to get to the door to unlock it. It’s the last hope that I have. I don’t know what her plan will be since the other one failed, but I don’t doubt that she’s mad enough now to make it something incredibly painful.

I’m just a few feet away when she latches onto my ankle, dragging me back. “Get the fuck off of me,” I yell, kicking at her with my other foot, but she still doesn’t let go. My kicks have no power behind them with my energy draining so quickly, and she seems to still have some to give.

“I should have killed you the first time! You’ve ruined everything!” She drags me down to her in her rage, and she’s on me before I can prepare myself, raining down blows that I can’t even raise my arms to block.

My vision goes fuzzy, and I’m mere moments away from giving up when the door flies open. She’s torn away from me, screaming the whole way, and then Jameson’s face is hovering over mine. I think he’s talking to me because his lips are moving as he cups my face in his hands, but I can’t hear a word of it with how loud my ears are ringing.

Can you die from exhaustion? From being hit? From pain? Because I feel like I’m there, standing on one side of a doorway that a small, simple step would take me through. I don’t want to go, especially not now that he’s here. I want to at least smell his scent one last time, but all I can smell is the blood all around us and the smell of the hospital. It’s a depressing kind of smell, one that doesn’t offer much hope for me.

I use what little strength I have left to reach up and grip his wrist. His hand slides away from my face to take my own, and the worry that swims in his eyes makes me so sad. I don’t want things to be like this, but I’m not the one in control anymore. My eyelashes flutter as my lids grow unbearably heavy until I can’t keep them open any longer.

32

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