The Sweetest Berry

Chapter Four - Donna

"Ma'am.", a bartender says, while he cleans all the dirty glasses. I suddenly wake up, like I've been shocked with a Taser gun. "Are you going to order anything?"

"Oh. Shoot. Sorry.", I apologize, simultaneously reaching for the menu. "I'll just take a... Berry jam whiskey"

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh", I assure him. He double checks with me about the drink like he was sure there was an issue with the drink. He doesn't refuse to give it to me though.

My drink comes after 5 minutes. I take my first sip, wincing because I suddenly got the worst headache possible. Brain-freeze? Nah. I quickly let go of the cup, refusing my body to drink anymore. I guide myself to the nearest couch and steady my body, concurrently sitting down on the couch. I feel so dizzy, I fall asleep, and my head feels like it's getting bashed on the table.

God. It's 2:30. 2 hours. And 30 minutes. I was supposed to be back at the hospital by noon. I force my body to get up. I mumble something that sounds like 'thank you' as I leave the bar, darting through the streets, trying to make it to the hospital in a new world record. By the time I reach it, it's 2:43. I scan my ID at the front desk, approaching a big mirror door. I see my reflection, almost getting scared. I ignore it though, because I don't have time, and I walk into the room.

"You good, girl?", Kayla, my coworker, asks with full concern. "You look like you got chased by a raccoon and it tore through your hair."

"Yeah, I'm fine.", I respond, attempting to twirl my tangled hair around my finger and try to normalize my tangled hair. Now, I'm super self-conscious about my hair.

"Just continue whatever you were working on. What's that? Also, where's Chester?", I'm making an effort to divert the attention off of me and my hair.

"He left. He was waiting for you before noon, but he left work at 2:00. Anyways. Huh. That's weird. Anyways. I was looking at the death count today and there were 5.", Kayla responds.

"Five? That's it? That's great! Well, not great... But better than the death count yesterday. I think our problem is slowly getting-"

"Let me finish. The death count for alcohol poisoning was five."

"Nu-uh. No way. Not possible. It's the fifth 'alcohol poisoning'-related death we've had today", I say emphasizing "alcohol poisoning" with air quotes. I scrolled through the death count again on the iPad, just to double-check. My iPad isn't working today, so I can't see the names of the people who died. I shake the iPad, crossing my fingers so that the names magically appear.

"It is, though. All 5 people died about thirty minutes to an hour after they had drinks at Anchor's Bar. They all had similar, yet different drinks. Which is weird.", Kayla argues in a sweet voice.

"Anchor's Bar?!"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Are all the deaths from yesterday or today?", I try to seem calm, but I can tell I'm failing to conceal my feelings.

"Today. Anyways. There was a sort of common theme. Yesterday, the three people that had the 3 different drinks died, which were similar to the drinks that the people today ordered then, um, you know, died."

I feel so sick to my stomach.

"Kayla. I'm not feeling so well. I'll be back in about 20 minutes.", I call out, speed-walking my way out of the room.

"Do you want me to come with you?", Kayla confused, but with sentiment.

"No. I'll be fine. Just wait for me."

I dash down the hall, looking for the nearest bathroom. Spotted. I run towards it, and into the nearest open stall. I doubled over, hurling whatever was left inside of me. I can't tell if it's the bathroom stench or the drink I had at the bar that's making me so nauseated. I feel so queasy that I want to go home. I gag over the nasty taste left in my mouth. Ugh. Ew. I grab a bunch of toilet paper and try to flush it down with the barf. It doesn't work, but no one's in the bathroom. I act like I didn't do anything. I go to the sink and wash my face. Several times. Trying not to retch in the sink is a big commitment. Which I failed. I vomited so bad. Just when I thought I didn't eat anything. I was my face again, in a different, cleaner sink. I look terrible. My dark auburn hair is tangled, my gray eyes are bloodshot and teary, and my warm ivory skin is contrasting with something covering it in some places that looks like a black-gray powder. Even worse, I can't find my glasses. I sprint back to the room, scan my keycard, and Kayla is sitting in the exact same spot that I left her. She looks like she hasn't moved a muscle.

"Hey. Are you doing okay?", she finally looks up at me, stands up, and reaches to stroke my shoulder.

"Uh-huh. Can you tell me the names? Of the people that died?"

"Are you positive you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely positive."

"Honey, we're in a hospital. I can take you to the emergency room if you'd like."

"I'm fine. Just. Tell me the names already."

"Daniela Gomez, Laila Al-Somat, Jude Ng, Theodore Ng, and the most recent one from approximately 10 minutes ago, Andrew Thomas"

My jaw drops and my iPad falls out of my hand and clatters against the tiled flooring. It cracked but it's the least of my problems right now. Andrew Thomas. Andrew. Thomas. My sister's best friend, my secret boyfriend.