Nora’s heart plunged into her stomach, her throat raw with the ripping, clawing urge to scream. White as a sheet, all she could do was grip onto the seat like a life preserver and hope that it was enough to spare her life. That seemed impossible, though, given the grim reality of her situation. She just saw the wing get ripped off of the plane, for crying out loud.<br/><br/>When the explosion came, rumbling the entire plane as metal scraped against metal, Nora was too terrified to open her eyes. She imagined what was going on around her, the plane had split into two and people were screaming as they fell perilously to their deaths, however many feet below. If the fall wouldn’t be their demise, then surely exposure would.<br/><br/>Her own dizzying head made it impossible for Nora to tell whether the plane was still nose-diving and spinning, or if it was all in her imagination. By the time the plane finally stilled, she realized that she was on the verge of fainting. Deep breathing was her only solace at that point. The Xanax was evidently ill prepared to handle an imminent death situation.<br/><br/>Mark’s question found her some time later, making her aware enough to force her eyes open. “I don’t know…” she confessed. “Am I?” One hand finally left her armrest and pressed against her chest, as if checking for a heartbeat in order to confirm one way or another. “And for how much longer…?” She muttered to herself.<br/><br/>Nora looked to Mark, then at the rest of the plane and realized the horrors that had happened. She blinked, her eyes instantly prickling with tears. “Oh my god,” she exhaled. “That… That would have been me…” She unfastened her seatbelt, too afraid to stand. “I… I had a seat in coach and they just happened to upgrade me this time.”<br/><br/>A wave of nausea bubbled inside of her. “Are you okay?” She turned to Mark, needing some sort of a distraction as she struggled to think and process.