When Winn finally pulled into his own driveway, music was floating faintly from the living room. He stepped inside, his gut tightening with unease.
The first thing he saw was her hand draped carelessly off the side of the sofa, pale fingers dangling toward the floor. The second was the near-empty glass of water tipped over on the coffee table, its contents staining the rug. He moved closer, his chest constricting when he spotted the open case of painkillers lying beside her.
His stomach dropped instantly. "Syl! Syl! What did you do? What did you do?" He dropped to his knees, and cradled her limp body in his arms. Her skin felt clammy under his touch. "God, Syl…no!" His vision blurred but he forced his trembling fingers to dig into his pocket.
The phone slipped once, his hand slick with sweat, before he managed to press the numbers. He dialed 911, pressing the phone hard to his ear.
*****
