Page 140 of Ruthless Lullaby

Panic tightens its grip on my chest, stealing my breath away. “Hand it over, Maurice. Now,” I demand, my voice sharp and edged with barely contained angst. “Give me the damn thing.”

Maurice is not backing down. It’s as if he’s finally discovered a way to manipulate me and is savoring every moment of it. Clutching the box to his chest, his entire body trembles with raw, unrestrained tension. “You think you can stop this, Mindy? If I die tonight, it’ll be on your hands!”

I take a hesitant step towards him, my heart pounding so hard I fear it may burst from my chest. "Maurice, please stop playing this game. Give me that Tramoxine."

"Why? Why do you care?” He yells at me, tears streaming down his contorted face. "You never even loved me. Never!" His voice cracks with madness as he tightens his grip on the blister even more.

I lower my voice but my heart continues to race. The pounding sound of it in my ears almost drowns out the muffled noise coming from the Silver Room where guests are enjoying themselves. All my focus is on Maurice right now and getting out of this situation without letting him take that Tramoxine. "That's not true," I say, trying to soften my tone. "I did love you once, Maurice. But things change. People change. Relationshipschange. And this, what you're doing right now? This isn't love. This is manipulation."

He stares at me for a long moment. His eyes are full of tears and his breath comes out in ragged gasps. "I can't do this shit anymore, Mindy. I can't bear the thought of you being with my brother. It's killing me."

I really don’t know what else to say to him. My mind frantically searches for something that might calm him down and change his mind about his crazy plan. Whatever the case, I need to talk him out of taking those pills. It’s going to kill him, especially if he takes the entire dose. So, I change my strategy.

With a trembling hand, I reach out, asking for the small blister he’s clinging onto. "Okay, Maurice. Let's figure this out together. You don't have to do this alone." His eyes dart back and forth between me and the medicine in his hand. He hesitates, seemingly considering my plea. "Maurice, please don't do this," I urge him. "I'll find help for you."

His eyes continue to dart between me and the pills. But just when I think I managed to win him over, his expression shifts from confused to determined. He shakes his head and a twisted smirk spreads across his face.

"I don't need your help, Mindy. I need you. And if I can't have you, then so be it."

Everything happens so quickly that I barely have time to react. Maurice rips open the blister pack and dumps its contents into his mouth without a second thought. I lunge forward in desperation, begging him to spit out the pills, but he remains unmoved. His wild determination is evident as he swallows every last one and fixes me with a disturbing sense of certainty.

It only takes a few seconds for the effects to take hold. Maurice clutches at his throat, gasping for air as he starts to choke. His eyes bulge with sheer terror, his face contorted in agony as the Tramoxine mixed with alcohol takes its toll.

I watch the unfolding events in horror. Panic rises in my throat as I watch Maurice collapse and convulse on the floor. A scream wells up inside me, but it remains trapped as I am paralyzed by the sheer terror of the scene before me.

"Oh my God, Maurice!" I cry, dropping to my knees beside him. I gather him into my arms, cradling his head against my chest as I try to keep him still. "Please, Maurice, don't do this. Don't you fucking die on me!"

Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision as I look around, desperately searching for someone who can help. There must be at least one security guard around here.

"Help!" I scream as loud as I can. My voice rips through the suffocating silence. "Somebody help us, please!" Nothing. It's just me and Maurice in this nightmare.

I gaze down at him and what I see sends a jolt of sheer terror through my entire being. His skin is pale and clammy now, his breaths shallow and strained. Foam gathers at the corner of his mouth. My heart is breaking into millions of pieces.

"Maurice," I choke out, my voice barely recognizable as my own. "Please, don't die! Just hold on, okay? Stay with me!"

His skin grows paler by the second and until his breathing stops altogether. Panic sets in as I shake him, hoping for any sign of life. But he is heavy and unresponsive. I close my eyes and wish to disappear into thin air. Evaporate. Cease to exist.

“Heeeelp!” I yell again as loud as I can, but it’s met with an eerie silence. Reality crashes down on me: Maurice might actually be dead. Right here, on my lap. The thought is so surreal, so horrifying, that I can't even breathe.

Focus, Mindy!

You need to get help, ASAP!

I need to set Maurice down somewhere, but where? On the floor? I have to move first, but my body feels paralyzed with shock. My hands are heavier than ever, trembling uncontrollably. My heart pounds so hard that I think I’m about to pass out.

My mind is racing, a million thoughts crashing into each other. What the hell are you supposed to do when your ex-boyfriend dies on your lap? Is there a guidebook for this?

"Please, Maurice, don't die," I find myself begging, my voice breaking. "Please, stay with me." The words tumble out, a desperate plea to a universe that seems cruel and indifferent. I'm not even sure if I'm saying this to Maurice or to myself.

Then, to my surprise, I feel it - a tiny movement. Maurice winces and blurts out an, "I love you, Mindy," before his body goes limp again.

Dammit! I can’t just sit here waiting to faint from stress. I need to force myself up and find help. The more time I waste here, the worse this situation is going to get. Maurice needs medical attention, like yesterday. I can pass out from the adrenaline rush afterwards, but first, I need to save his life while I still can. It doesn’t matter that he’s my ex and that we have a history. All that matters is that he’s a human being and no human being deserves to die like this.

“Heeelp!” I shout once again, my desperate scream echoing in the empty room. I try to move Maurice’s limp body from my lap but to no avail. He might be a lot smaller than Maron, but he’s still a heavy guy. Definitely heavy enough for my muscles. “Heeelp!” I try again, but it’s futile. I’m sure nobody can hear me.

Then, I remember something. My phone! I must call Maron.

With trembling fingers, I fumble through my purse for my phone and frantically search for Maron’s number. I press dial and wait for the line to ring, but it goes straight to voicemail. Dammit! He’s either still caught up in interviews, or he’s already upstairs, presenting Tramoxine.

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