The pain is too real. It emanates from the core of my being. Consuming me. I reach for the needle.

“Mommy?”

Sam.
My hand quivers madly in front of me. I bring it back and press it to my heart. I must try for Sam. The shaking starts up my spine again. Inhale. Exhale. Standing on the brink of death. I stretch out my hand once more.

Sam’s picture hangs on the wall.

Teeth clench. Goose bumps rise all over my flaming cold skin. Tremors rack my scarred, weakened body. I need it. Sleeping was the first simple ability that was lost to me. Then eating. I refuse to live this life.

Cool breeze. The little blond boy is pointing at a seal as it swims by in the aquarium. He turns around and beams at me.

But I can’t find the strength. Another wave of agony washes over me and the vomit comes up; sweet and yellow. It burns. I reach for the needle above my crumpled form, knocking a compact off the table.

Slipping the needle into my vein, I see Sam’s beautiful face in the fragments of mirror.

Darkness.