Iyisha's POV
She scrubbed her teeth hard, the brush moving fast against clean enamel, the taste plain and dull without toothpaste. It still felt right. Routine. She had kept it even without toothpaste, the tube still left in the car.
She leaned over the sink and rinsed.
"Iyisha!" Marybeth's voice snapped through the house.
She spat the water out and ran.
Lance was on the sofa, his body jerking hard, limbs hitting the cushions. Marybeth had his legs pinned, struggling to keep him from falling.
"What happened?"
"He just started. He just fucking convulsed."
Iyisha dropped beside him and pressed her hand to his neck. Heat. Too much. She couldn't check how high, not with the useless battery-operated thermometer they found. She grabbed the flashlight and forced one eye open. No reaction. The pupil didn't react to the light.
"What can I do?" Aljun asked from the side.
"Help me. Turn him."
