Page 142 of Toxic Temptation
She smirks. “You’re a sassy one. I like you.”
I grin. “Then may I proceed with my questions?”
“Oh, I suppose so. Fire away. I’ve got nowhere else to be.” She clicks off the television and faces me with her hands folded primly in her lap.
I check her pulse—steady, strong. But her skin feels warm. Not feverish, just… warm.
“You run hot,” I observe.
Carmen shrugs. “Since menopause. My internal thermostat went haywire.”
The pieces slam together so hard I nearly gasp. “Carmen, I think you have febrile seizures.”
“Fever seizures?” Jane steps closer. “But her temperature is normal.”
“Not all fevers present traditionally.” I turn to Carmen, excitement building. “Some people’s bodies don’t show typical fever symptoms. The only way the fever manifests is through?—”
As I’m talking, Carmen’s eyes suddenly lose focus. They roll back, white and terrifying.
“Jane!” I shout at Dr. Hastings, but Carmen’s body is already convulsing, violent and rhythmic.
Jane smashes the emergency button. An army of nurses floods in with equipment. I scurry back against the wall, my heart thundering as Jane takes charge of her patient.
“She’s coding. Charge to two hundred.”
The defibrillator whines. Carmen’s body jerks.
Nothing.
“Charge to four hundred.”
My hands clench into fists.Come on, Carmen. You said you weren’t a quitter.
“It’s not working. Charge to eight hundred.”
No. Eight hundred is too much for someone her age. I want to scream, to tell Jane to stop, but this isn’t my patient. This isn’t my call.
The machine charges. Carmen’s body arches.
Then the flatline sound fills the room, long and unforgiving. Then:
“… Time of death, 2:37 A.M.”
I’m moving before Jane finishes speaking, stumbling out of the room and down the hall. My vision blurs. My chest feels crushed.
She was ready to die. She said so herself. But that doesn’t make it easier.
That doesn’t mean I didn’t fail.
I find the doctor’s lounge empty, thank God, and I sink into a chair by the window. The silence wraps around me like a blanket I don’t want and never asked for. I sit as my eyes stud with hot tears. They splash against my hands, folded in my lap just like Carmen’s were. I feel the liquid shame trickle between my knuckles.
Some time later—thirty seconds or thirty minutes, I’m not quite sure—the door opens behind me.
“Dr. Fairfax.”
Jeremy’s voice makes my skin crawl. I don’t turn around.
“What do you want?”
