Frida tossed and turned in her bed, the steady drip of the IV filling the echoinh silence.
Her dreams where nothing but fever crisis confusing andfragmented, filled with faces that swirled in and out of focus—Evelyn, Laz, Delancie, and even Pierre's smirk.
She opened her eyes slowly to the blinding room light, her body was achinf so badly the bed seemed more like hell than comfort, as though the saline had only added more toxicity to her veins, leaving her poisoned.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen glowing with Delancie's name, that's true...what happened to delancie that day? She never came, never called... Frida hesitated before answering, her voice coming out deep from the cold she was suffering. "What?"
"What up you still alive ?" Delancie's voice was sharp but carried a hint of concern.
"What's up? You left me to die?" Frida groaned, her head throbbing at the reminder. "The fuck is wrong with you Delancie?"
