She fought the sting of the needle as the calming effect of his singing subsided, but it was too late, and she looked down at her arm and then up at his face again. "I don't-" she said, but then she stopped. He was right, she did pretend. Her whole adult life was pretend, but how would he know that. "What was-" she looked down at her arm again, a wooziness starting to overtake her. "What was in that?" she asked, her eyes becoming heavy with sedation, which she fought with all her might. She screamed again, but it was barely a sound. And the vines, which tried to revive, barely managed to lift their brambles as the sedation began to take full effect. "Please, I didn't want to post-"
She couldn't finish the words, her eyelids had grown too heavy, the corners of her vision too dark. She was conscious, but she was having trouble staying on her feet, and a moment later she crumpled at his feet like a rag doll, unable to do anything but look up at him with pleading eyes.