Mr. Benfatti’s right hand waved weakly. His left hand, with the IV going into his arm remained perfectly still. Mrs. Benfatti said good-bye to Samira and departed.

Samira found herself in an awkward predicament. She wasn’t interested in getting into a conversation with the man if she was going to go through with her plan, yet she couldn’t just stand there. Plus, having run into Mrs. Benfatti, was there more reason to cancel? The only thing that was for certain was what she’d thought was going to be so simple was turning out to be anything but. Unable to make up her mind, Samira just dumbly remained rooted to her spot.

Mr. Benfatti waited for a moment before inquiring: “Is there something I can do for you, like run down to the kitchen and rustle you up a snack?” He chucked briefly at his own attempt at humor.

“How is your knee feeling?” Samira questioned, while she tried to organize her thoughts.

“Oh, great,” Mr. Benfatti scoffed. “I’m ready to go for a jog.”

Unconsciously, Samira’s hand slipped into her pocket, and her fingers encountered the full syringe. With a start, she was reminded why she was there.

While Mr. Benfatti carried on about the details of the pain he’d been suffering, Samira struggled with what to do. Recognizing there was no rational way to make a decision short of the crystal ball she didn’t have, she opted for the more simple choice of acknowledging her impetuosity and just proceeding as planned. The deciding factor was the realization that Mr. Benfatti would not be discovered for hours maybe, since his wife had just left and the nurse had just given him a shot. What that meant was that Samira would have lots of time to be far from the scene when he was discovered. She pulled the syringe from its hiding place. Using her teeth to remove the needle cap, she reached for the IV port below the millepore filter.

Mr. Benfatti had seen Samira suddenly approach the bed, had caught sight of the syringe, and had stopped his diatribe about pain. “What’s this?” he questioned. When Samira ignored him and raised the needle up to the IV port to inject, he reached out with his right hand and grasped Samira’s right wrist. In the next instant, their eyes locked. “What am I getting?”

“It’s something for your pain,” Samira nervously improvised. The fact that Mr. Benfatti was holding her terrorized her. For a second, she irrationally worried that what she was about to give Mr. Benfatti would pass into her from the contact.

“I just got a pain shot two seconds ago. Isn’t this overdoing it?”

“The doctor ordered another. This is more, to get you to sleep longer.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Samira repeated, reminding her of the unpleasant conversation she’d just had with Charu. She looked down at Mr. Benfatti tightly gripping her wrist. The man was strong, and although she wasn’t yet experiencing pain, it was close. He was restricting her blood flow.