where only the sweetest words remain

chapter six

December 2030

Carla is not a morning person.

In fact, she is probably everything but that, including grumpy, irritable, and prone to minor acts of violence—she might have kicked Samuel and accidentally sent him tumbling off the bed once, although that's entirely his fault for bothering her over the fact that he was bored. Of course, she'll get up early if she absolutely has to, because while she isn't a morning person, she's still definitely a responsible one. But if given a choice, she'd much rather sleep in past ten, undisturbed, since Samuel knows better by now than to wake her up on her days off for anything other than breakfast in bed or sex.

It's five-something in the morning, however, and the reason she's up at this god-awful hour has nothing to do with either of those things.

She's surrounded on all sides by marble. The floor is hard with it beneath her knees, the wall is cold with it when she presses her clammy cheek to the surface, and the sound of the toilet flushing echoes off of it when she weakly raises her hand and pulls the handle. It seems blaringly loud, though not nearly as much as the dry heaving she'd been doing mere seconds ago had.

Somehow, Carla musters enough strength to shift around until she's sitting with her back against the wall. She swallows thickly and closes her eyes, because the combination of throwing up and being tired has apparently kickstarted a slight headache throbbing between her temples. But since it isn't the most comfortable of places, she only allows herself a moment to rest here before slowly rising to her feet. She turns the faucet on and cups some water over her face, then grabs her toothbrush.

Her throat is still a little raw by the time she's finished, though the bad taste in her mouth is gone, at least. And thankfully, the nausea that had woken her up and caused her to stumble into her and Samuel's bathroom in the first place has subsided as well. All she feels now is drained.

And a little confused. She felt normal before going to bed, so she really has no idea what could've brought this on. It might be food poisoning. Then again, she and Samuel ate the same thing for dinner last night, and she'd only had a few bites, besides. She hasn't had much of an appetite lately.

What she has been is exhausted though, and getting abruptly woken up before the sun has even risen certainly isn't helping with that fact. Carla stares at her reflection in the mirror and wonders what the hell is going on. Outside of the faint circles around her eyes and the pale hue to her skin, she doesn't look all that different.

The biggest change is probably what she's wearing. Instead of her normal sleepwear, all she has on is one of Samuel's t-shirts, just large enough that it's somewhat slipping off her shoulder. She's recently started sleeping without pants and in baggier clothes since it's been warmer at night, which is weird, considering it's December. It's only a few days before Samuel's birthday actually, but that won't stop her from getting pissed off at him for continuing to not listen to her about their heating system being broken. Maybe the reason she got sick was because she overheated?

That has to be why. Because if not, the only other explanation would be that Carla's body is going through weird changes, and that doesn't make any sense.

Unless, her mind suddenly adds, and she pauses as her reflection goes wide-eyed in the mirror. No. That can't be it, either. She refuses to believe that could be it. There are plenty of other things that can cause someone to feel nauseous, and just because she so happened to experience it in the morning doesn't mean that she's—

"Carla," a sleep-rough voice interrupts her thoughts, causing her to whip her head in its direction and fight off a subsequent bout of dizziness. Despite his obviously half-awake state, Samuel notices, and whatever grogginess that had still been clinging to him evaporates instantly. "Hey, what's wrong?"