I open my eyes and stare at the white ceiling above me while the smell of sweat infiltrates my nostrils. Yeah… the happy memory trick never works that well.
Mr. Miller keeps pounding into me, his laboured breaths blowing into my face, and beads of sweat drip onto me. He groans loudly, the sound reminding me of some huge animal in rage. Abruptly, he stops and pulls out. His weight disappears. I lift my head off the pillow and see him slumped on his knees at the foot of the bed, his hands clawing at his chest. He's breathing hard. His face is red as he stares at me with wide eyes.
"The… pills," he chokes out. "In… the jacket."
I just gape at him for a few moments before getting up off the bed and running toward his jacket, where he had left it on the back of a chair. I find an orange bottle in the left pocket and take it out. Mr. Miller is slumped on all fours, trying to draw breath.
"Give me…" he wheezes, raising his arm in my direction.
I look down at the bottle in my hand and back up, taking in his flustered face and rheumy eyes. Slowly, I step further back. Mr. Miller's enormous eyes glare at me. I retreat a few more steps until I feel the wall behind my back.
And then, I watch.
It lasts less than two minutes. Wheezing. Shallow, laboured breaths. And finally, a choking sound. Mr. Miller collapses sideways onto the bed, his head tilted up in my direction, eyes bulging. It looks like he is trying to speak, but the words are jumbled. I can't make out what he's saying, but I see it on his face. He is begging. I stay rooted to the spot, clutching the medicine bottle in my hand, and watch a man dying before my eyes. With each breath he takes, I feel the remains of my soul, or whatever is left inside me, die a little more. Until there is nothing, just a black hole.
The door on my left bangs open, and my driver barges inside. He runs toward Mr. Miller's body, which is lying still across the bed, and places his fingers on the man's neck.
"Fuck!" the driver spits out and turns to me. "What have you done, bitch?"
I ignore him. For some reason, I can't take my eyes off the body on the bed. The eyes are still open, and even though I can't see them clearly, it seems like they are still looking directly at me. A slap lands on the side of my face.
"Wake the fuck up! We need to leave," the driver barks.
When I don't move, he grabs my arm and starts shaking me. A moment later, I feel the prick of a needle in my arm.
No!
That prick awakens whatever is left of my self-preservation. The pill bottle falls out of my hand. I pull my arm away, turn, and run out into the hallway.
It's well into the night, and the inside of this place seems deserted. The two wide yellow stripes running the length of the carpet help me orient myself, and I follow them, running along several hallways in search of an exit. My vision clouds, and I'm becoming lightheaded. Every step I take is harder than the previous one, and it feels as if my legs are weighed down by concrete blocks. I turn the corner and keep running until I see a door at the end. There is a green-lit sign above it. I can't read the letters, but there is only one thing it could be: the exit.
As soon as I reach the door, I grab the knob and dash outside. It's a fire escape. I'm seeing double, and my head spins, making me dizzier with each passing second, but I manage to grab the railing on the third try. Clutching the cold iron, I fumble down the steps, miraculously without falling. The moment my bare feet reach the ground, I turn left and run into a dark alley.
A car horn blares on my right, and I turn just in time to see blinding lights shining into my face before the darkness swallows me.