"NO, please." Her arm smacked the syringe out of his hands. Henry was surprised that she had it in her to move so quickly. The open needle could have pierced him, but instead it knocked completely out of his hands and the glass blew out as it shattered into the wall. The liquid was clear so it just looked like water against the paneling.
He looked at her as he could smell the sterile alcohol next to his head. Her calm and jubilation had been changed to a kind of a frenzy. "I apologize for being rude," she said slowly, "I didn't mean to almost skewer you with broken glass. I . . . I just don't want to touch morphine or have it in my system every again."
"Why do you feel so strongly?"
