(Lara)

Darn. I shouldn't have broken that glass. I can feel the razor-sharp bits of glass pricking as I get thrown none too gently into a corner of the stupid washroom.

I can only guess what's happened to the plane.

But I can only know- and ignorance would've been bliss- that we're going to crash.

I'm thrown onto the door this time and fumble with the catch. Suddenly I feel a sharp sting and my fingers come away bloody.

Cursed glass. How the heck did that piece end up there?

The plane spins- sort of like Wheel of Fortune. I picture myself landing on numbers- the numbers of my hospital bill, if I were to get out alive.

Five thousand. That's the sink in my abdomen. I clench my teeth together and taste blood.

A thousand five. Everything on the door again, plus little bits of glass.

I cry out as I'm thumped on the ceiling. That had to be a free vacation. My hand gets caught on some more glass. The world starts to spin- and fall. We're plummeting down.

Bankrupt.