Page 79 of Kiss Marry Kill

“N… none. I was sleeping. Or… t… trying to.” A tear streaked down her porcelain cheek.

It seemed apparent to me that what she was experiencing was a panic attack. The more worked up she got, the harder it was for her to breathe. And the harder it was for her to breathe, the more worked up she got. It was a vicious cycle. She needed to calm down and allow her breathing to return to normal.

“Janelle, I’m going to give you something to help you settle. You’re having a panic attack.” As I spoke, I tugged a small bottle and hypodermic needle from my bag.

Wheezing, she held my gaze. “Are you sure? Are… you… s… sure it’s n… not a heart attack? I feel like I’m going to… d…die. I think I’m going to die.”

“Calm down,” I said in a soothing voice. “You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay.” She grabbed my arm, and the trusting gleam in her eye gave me a lump in my throat.

“I’m going to give you a Diazepam injection, which is just a fancy name for Valium.”

She eyed the needle. “I… h… hate needles.”

“Everyone does, but you’re too agitated to swallow a pill right now.” I gave her what I hoped was an encouraging smile. “I don’t need you choking to death, right?”

She winced. “What?”

“Never mind.” I pressed the plunger, expelling any air bubbles from the hypodermic needle. “Relax and hold still.” I pressed the needle to her inner arm and swiftly administered the sedative.

“That didn’t even hurt,” Janelle mumbled.

I glanced up at Angela. “Could you get some water, please?” She nodded and hurried away. I returned my attention to Janelle. “You’ll be feeling better in a few minutes, I promise.”

Janelle still looked frightened, clutching her slender throat. When Angela returned, I took the glass of water from her and handed it to Janelle.

“Take a few sips.” If nothing else, drinking the water would distract Janelle and slow her breathing. She was far too focused on every little breath and beat of her heart. That wasn’t helping at all.

Hand shaking, Janelle took the glass of water from me. She drank a few gulps of the liquid, and some of it dribbled down her chin.

“Excellent,” I said, taking the glass from her and handing it back to Angela. “Now, breathe slowly, in and out. Can you do that for me?”

Janelle nodded and took a few shallow breaths. I studied her, observing her disheveled appearance. Janelle had always been well-groomed and nicely dressed. It was obvious she wasn’t taking care of herself. From the hollows in her cheeks, I suspected she hadn’t been eating or sleeping since well before the day of the wedding. She looked like she’d lost ten pounds since her visit to my office a few days ago.

“I had no idea what was happening,” Angela said tersely. “She just started screaming like a maniac.”

I’d almost forgotten Angela was in the room. “Panic attacks are terrifying.”

Angela nodded, watching her daughter distractedly. “Apparently. She scared the hell out of me.”

Annoyed at how uncaring Angela seemed, I turned to Janelle and gave her an encouraging smile. “How about we get you off the floor and into your bed?”

Janelle nodded, although she made no move to stand.

I got to my feet, and I held out my hands. She grabbed them, and I pulled her easily to her feet. She swayed and leaned on me, and she seemed to be breathing easier now. I led her to the big bed and helped her to get under the sheets. I sat on the edge of the mattress and made a quick call to cancel the ambulance.

“Feeling a little better?” I asked Janelle as I tucked my phone away.

She nodded, but her bony fingers moved to grip my wrist. I smiled down at her and patted her hand. She let out a shaky breath, relaxing against the mountain of pillows.

“Maybe you could leave some drugs here, Doctor,” Angela suggested.

I frowned. “I’m not comfortable doing that.” With someone as emotionally unstable as Janelle, handing them a bottle of drugs could be a recipe for disaster.

“But why not?” Angela scowled. “We can’t keep having this sort of thing happen.”

I met Angela’s disgruntled gaze. “Janelle doesn’t just need drugs. She needs to speak to someone. A professional. She’s had a traumatic experience. She’s grieving, and she needs to talk to someone who’s skilled in that field.”