I sit up with a jolt, scaring the two EMTs who are riding in the ambulance with me. I tear at the cannula in my nose, glaring at them. “Take me to Tulane Emergency. There’s something there I need to speak to.”
I promptly pass out.
I didn’t scream, but the bottle slipped through my fingers, landing and cracking against the already scratched wood floor. There was no dramatic shatter as I stared at the man before me. The vodka, the once desired liquid freedom, oozed out across my bare feet from the crack now lining the bottle. It soaked into my skin as I tried to force myself to breathe.Read More