Three long hours. That's how much time I wasted flipping between two mind-numbing shows. I couldn't even remember the plotlines; they just blurred together into a mess of smiles sex and over-the-top drama. After updating my Instagram for the third time, I posted a message: Moving soon. Aura by Blakely orders on hold until next month. Warehouse still in Mexico. Simple, direct. Not like I owed anyone more than that. But, you get…
The first glass of wine had been a distraction, the second a necessity, and by the third round, I was just trying to kill the numbness in my head. I leaned back in my seat, letting the buzz settle in as the PA system crackled to life.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Las Vegas," the flight attendant announced in that overly cheerful tone they all used. "Where the local time is 10:00 a.m., and the temperature is currently 82 degrees. Please keep your seatbelts fastened until the captain has turned off the seatbelt sign. We ask that you remain seated and keep your carry-on items stowed until we've reached the gate. On behalf of the crew, thank you for choosing to fly with us today, and we wish you a pleasant stay."
I sighed, pulling out my phone to adjust the time to the new zone. My fingers hovered over the screen, but before I could tap anything, something yanked me backward.
Hard.
I felt my body being dragged down into the seat, an invisible force pressing me flat. My breath caught in my throat. My phone slipped from my hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud. I tried to scream, but the air was sucked out of my lungs before I could make a sound.
Darkness blurred the edges of my vision. My heart pounded. Panic set in, but there was nothing I could do. The last thing I remembered was the distant hum of the plane, people shuffling to their seat, items being stowed away, and the cold, hard pull of whatever had me pinned.
Then everything went black.
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(NOTE:: MY LETHAL MEN is in first person omniscient pov, first person being the female lead, makes you understand the characters better without being restricted to only the female leads thoughts, and sight of things)
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A boy was sitting beside me—sixteen, maybe. A scrawny kid with too much gel in his hair and the kind of nervous energy that made him tap his fingers on the armrest. I barely noticed him before, but apparently, he noticed everything.
"Oh my God, I think she's dead!" he blurted out, his voice cracking halfway through.
His ridiculous conclusion was almost laughable if it weren't so pathetic. Sixteen. Yeah, that explained it.
The flight attendant closest to us turned her head sharply, her eyes widening as she hurried over. "What happened?"
"I—I don't know!" the boy stammered, his face pale. "She just... like... collapsed or something."
She frowned, glancing at me, and then called over another flight attendant, this one older and clearly more experienced. The second attendant carried a small kit, her steps quick but calm not to alert the oblivious passangers. She knelt down next to me, opening the box with ease.
Wendy must have noticed the commotion because she shifted in her seat, one hand reaching for her seatbelt. Looking ready to jump in and take control, even if it wasn't needed.
The attendant with the kit noticed too and shook her head, her eyes meeting Wendy's with a calm, professional expression. "Ma'am, please don't worry. I don't see anything immediately wrong. It's probably just fatigue," she said, her voice sounding low and soothing. "We're landing in a few minutes, and I'd advise just letting her rest."
Wendy's hand hovered over the seatbelt for a moment longer, her lips pressed into a thin line, before she sat back with a sigh. She didn't say anything, just folded her arms across her chest and watched.
The attendant checked my pulse, her fingers gentle against my wrist. She leaned closer, her voice softer this time, almost like she was talking to herself. "No visible injuries, breathing normal…"
I wanted to snap at them, tell them to stop fussing over me like I was some delicate porcelain doll. But I couldn't. My body felt heavy, like I was pinned down by an invisible weight. I could hear everything—the rustle of the flight attendant's uniform, the nervous tapping of the kid beside me, the hum of the plane—but I couldn't move.
It was like being stuck in a nightmare, my mind awake but my body refusing to cooperate.
The boy's voice cut through the fog again. "Is she going to be okay?"
The attendant offered him a reassuring smile, clearly trying to keep him calm. "She'll be fine, sweetheart. Like I said, it's probably just fatigue." Her voice was smooth, almost motherly, but I could tell she wasn't completely sure.
The kid nodded, but one could still see the worry in his eyes. He kept sneaking glances at me, like I might suddenly sit up and start screaming. I would've rolled my eyes if I could. Drama much?
The attendant stood up, gently closing the kit. She pressed a button on the armrest and leaned down to speak quietly to someone over the intercom. Probably the pilot or whoever was in charge of handling situations like this. Meanwhile, the first flight attendant stayed close, watching me like a hawk.
I could feel my mother's eyes boring into me from across the aisle, her concern hidden behind a mask of irritation. Classic Wendy—always more worried about appearances than anything else. I knew she was probably calculating how this would look, wondering if this "episode" would draw unwanted attention.
The kid beside me finally broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Are you sure she doesn't need a doctor?"
The attendant crouched back down, her smile tight. "We have medical personnel ready to assist as soon as we land. There's nothing to worry about right now."
Nothing to worry about. Easy for her to say. My head was spinning, and my body felt like it was made of lead. I tried to focus on the little things—the faint smell of coffee in the air, the way the seatbelt pressed against my waist. Anything to ground me, to pull me out of this strange, heavy fog. Was I dead?
The fuck is going on.
I felt the plane start its descent, the subtle shift in pressure making my ears pop. The flight attendants hurried back to their stations, preparing for landing. The kid next to me was still jittery, his leg bouncing up and down like a jackhammer.
"Please ensure your seatbacks and tray tables are in their full upright position," the PA system crackled to life. "We'll be landing shortly, please remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the gate."
I felt a small surge of relief. Almost there. Just a few more minutes, and I'd be off this shit.
As the wheels touched down, the sudden jolt shook through me, but I still couldn't move. My fingers twitched slightly, but that was it. The kid let out a breath he'd clearly been holding, and I heard him mutter, "Thank God."
The world in my head was dark, I couldn't see anything.
The plane rolled to a stop, and people started standing, grabbing their bags from the overhead compartments. The noise was deafening—zippers opening, bags thudding down, people chattering. At that moment, my hearing stopped and so did my brain, I could no longer hear or feel anything.
What's happening?