Help me.
Rachel Maloney grasped at her burning throat, eyes wide as the searing, swelling pain clawed its way up her neck, pulling at her nerves and stealing her breath.
Help me.
Staggering across the dark hotel room, her heavy feet led her to the large wooden desk opposite her bed. She reached out, barely registering the loud crash as the entire refreshment tray fell to the floor beside her. With a pencil in her hand, she steadied herself.
Breathe, she thought.
Just try to breathe.
The hotel-branded note paper was quickly filled with large, shaky letters. It was the only way she could guarantee her writing would be legible. It was the only thing left that she could do to save everything she had been working for.
The pencil dropped onto the table.
Rachel slipped off the chair and onto the floor, her eyes wide and dark and her skin pallid. A bruise formed where her head had hit the bed post on her way down.
As the dim light of the early morning bled through the heavy curtains, a loud ringing sound filled the room.
Click.
Voicemail.
Click.
Speak.
"Rachel, if you have information, you need to call us. Let us protect you. You're not safe."
Click.
Silence.