The arms holding her down were rock solid. She tried to scream. Only a muffled, broken sound escaped.
Her lungs burned. The darkness behind her eyes began to spin, turning thick and violent, full of sparks that were the body's final stupid protest. Her hands weakened. She could not breathe. God, she could not breathe.
No.
No, no, no.
Her mind began throwing images at her. Matteo asleep in his crib, tiny fist near his cheek. Marco smiling. Vee laughing with her. She thought of every precious thing she had tried to protect.
Her baby.
Her husband.
Her sister.
The pillow pressed harder. Her body arched. A terrible, animal sound lodged in her throat. The darkness deepened.
Her hands slipped from the attacker's wrist. Her body began to betray her, the fight draining out of her limbs as her lungs emptied. A strange heaviness moved through her, peaceful in its horror. The last of her breath left her body in a silent, useless rush against the pillow.
