Tessa (From Fear to Faith) Read Online Free PDF Page B

stupidly at the diagrams on the page. The little ink lines seemed miles away. Why could I barely see? Was the light dying?
    Air. I’ve got to get some air. It wasn’t even a conscious thought. Raw instinct drove me across the room toward the door. Back at the table, the poster slid to the floor with a slap.
    Grasping the knob with both hands, I tugged at the door. It didn’t budge. I braced myself and yanked harder, but still no luck. Crazed with panic, I began kicking and beating the steel with my fists. The exertion only intensified my critical need for air. I clung to the slippery knob as the world dissolved into a vibrating blackness. The roar in my ears was deafening. A powerful force seemed to be pressing down upon my ribs, crushing the breath out of me. The roaring grew until it swallowed me up. Underneath it, barely audible, someone was talking very fast in a monotone, or was it the radio?
    My thoughts fractured into multiplied thousands of tiny pieces, like shining bits of glass dust. I watched as they continued breaking down into ever smaller particles, then began falling like meteors. Only they were falling ever so slowly.

6
    I awoke to the familiar sound of my own coughing. My bedroom was dim, lit only by what little daylight permeated the drawn window shade. Flashes of things from the night before swept my mind like strobe lights. Confused voices, bright lights, someone pounding me on the back. Muffled arguing that droned on and on. And my own desperate attempts to escape an intangible terror. Had it been only last night? It seemed like weeks ago.
    Pushing back the covers, I stared bleary-eyed at my denim-clad legs. What was I doing in bed fully dressed? My eyes were watering so profusely I could hardly see. I slid out of bed and managed to stand up, but the room wobbled and turned around me in a slow, drunken motion. I blinked, trying to clear my vision and get my bearings. Hadn’t I taken a shower last night? My clothes, my hands, everything was filthy. My eyes locked onto an ugly raw spot on my left hand near my thumb. About the size of a half dollar, the wound had blistered like a burn and was stinging like fire. What on earth hadhappened?
    I collapsed onto the bed as another fit of coughing shook me. Even lying down, the room was spinning. My throat burned as if I had a bad cold. Was I dying? I recalled the strange dizziness of the night before. Maybe the fumes had grown so powerful they’d knocked me out. I pictured Walter returning late and unlocking the door to find me slumped behind it, cold and dead. Maybe that was what had happened. But then how could I still be alive? Was I alive?
    I tried to shake off the irrational thoughts that clung like cobwebs in my mind. I had to find a way out of working in that stupid drug lab before it was too late.
    But what could I do? I had tried everything – running away, hiding out in the basement, faking illness, outright refusal. I had even tried appealing to Mom, but for whatever reason, she turned a deaf ear to me. I couldn’t talk to the police. Walter had made it clear that if I did, we’d both end up in prison, but first he’d kill me. Was suicide the only option I had left?
    Tears slipped down my face. Sure my life sucks, but I don’t want to die! There’s got to be another way. But in my weakened state, the only thing I could think of was to talk to Mom again. Somehow I had to make her understand.
    It took me several hours to muster enough willpower to get out of bed again. I tugged on a cleaner pair of jeans, swiped a damp washcloth across my face, and stumbled out to the kitchen.
    I found Mom at the table, dozing over a cold cup of coffee. She stirred and yawned when I entered. “Oh good, you’re up. How are you feeling?”
    “Okay, I guess.” I was scared to say more. Suppose she belittled or laughed off what had happened? Avoiding her gaze, I sank into an empty chair and pulled a banana from the bunch in the center of the table. I pulled