“No!” Ana cried, panic exploding through her. “Please, please…”
Her fingers brushed the edge of the table. The rescue inhaler rolled under her palm. She snatched it, fumbled with the cap, hands slick with sweat and tears.
“Ana, no—” someone behind her said, voice shaking. “You shouldn’t—”
Ana ignored them. She pulled Emilia upright, sliding behind her so Emilia’s back pressed against her chest, keeping her from collapsing again.
“Look at me!” Ana shouted, her face inches from Emilia’s. “Mili, look at me!”
Emilia’s eyes fluttered weakly.
“That’s it,” Ana said, forcing her voice to slow even though her heart was racing. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
She pressed the inhaler into Emilia’s trembling hand, guiding her tiny fingers around it.
“Breathe with me,” Ana said, voice breaking but determined. “In… out… with me.”
She exaggerated her own breathing—deep, slow—even though every instinct screamed, her chest burned, her throat ached from yelling. Emilia tried to inhale. Failed. Coughed violently.
Ana tightened her arms. “It’s okay,” she cried. “Try again. Please try again.”