It was like trying to breathe water, so thick and heavy it fills my mouth and burned my eyes. My stomach convulsed, heaving air as I struggled to breathe. The white rabbit ran just ahead of me, those beady pink eyes glaring at me. I'm late. I'm late.
The world spun faster as I stumbled towards the door. I can't feel. I can't breathe. I'm late. I'm late.
I barely notice the bench beneath me as I am seated; trying to convince myself I'm fine. People gather around. The white rabbit shakes his head and taps his foot. I'm late.
I can no longer feel my arms and legs and so I fall. I don't fall far, the floor stops me but I'm late. I know I'm late.
It's like going to sleep now, my body slowing to a halt, my heart drowsily yawning its compliance to the darkness enveloping me. Almost there.
Someone thrusts a needle into my hand. I recognize it's smooth casing. I have little time. I'm late.
I scream as pain seizes my leg. Synthetic adrenaline courses through my veins racking my body with tremors.
I'm not late. The rabbit is gone.