9:32 am. The Passenger awakes to find the drug inside of him. The wicked chemicals mimic and fool the receptors as he begins to sweat. Soon he will believe his vessel is going to crash; soon he will die. Vertigo overwhelms him and he is soon stumbling and falling to his knees. When they ask if he is alright, he will puke his lungs onto their feet. "I hope you bleed to death, you son of a bitch." He does, but not right away. He thinks a small child is licking it up, but there is no child. The faces of those close to death appear twisted and hideous. He can't look at them. He can't look at anyone...not even himself. He strangles himself with a blanket and misses his choice of either chicken cordon bleu or the salad. The Passenger is dead.
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