Kylie and Keith survived their... eventful week together.
And, now they're living their life like each other's yin and yang. Balancing each other out, and reigning each other in.
Until, news is heard.
Good news.
Keith gets selected to tour Europe wi...
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(Kylie's POV)
All I could hear was myself retching. And it was not a pleasant sound. In fact, it made my throat raw and painful, and briefly at the back of my head, I was wondering how long more this was going to take.
A selfish though, I know. But, I couldn't help it.
Bile and blood rose up my throat again as the doctor braced me for another round of vomiting.
This one more painful than the last.
Finally, about five or six more rounds of throwing up my guts, the doctor's swapped out my IV, and my vision began to dance around giddily.
It spun faster, and faster and faster, until finally it just gave way and everything faded to black.
~~~~~~
My eyes fluttered open to a room that was not mine, to realise I was in a bed that was not mine either, in clothes that were most definitely not mine.
And, then I remembered.
My throat still felt sore and raw and I could still taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. It was almost strong enough to make me want to gag again.
I twisted around in bed, eventually getting myself into a position comfortable enough to look out the bright window.
Greenery and concrete jungles awaited me on the other end of the floor to ceiling glass windows, all hit by the sun in a way that made them look like paradise.
I felt a faint smile form on my face, until I detected a red tube on my peripheral vision. I turned my head and traced the tube to a plastic bag of blood hanging from an IV stand.
My smile faded immediately, as I realised what had gotten me there in the first place, and how much trouble I was going to get into for it.
Then, my stomach grumbled and on cue, a nurse walked in.
The nurse looked like one of those people who seemed to have done weights ever since they were born, the kind of people who wouldn't look out of place at all with the Olympic weightlifters. She also had a stern face and a tight set to her jaw.
But when she looked at me, her face softened immensely, making me feel safe.
"How are you feeling?" She asked gently, as if any loud sound would shatter me.
"Better?" I croaked out, immediately wishing I hadn't spoken. "My throat..."
I whisper groaned at her.
A thoughtful look took over her face.
"I know. You had quite a bad night. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do except offer you a pen and a pad of paper to write on. You can't take any medicine or any food or water or anything for at least another day. Your stomach needs to settle, and we can't afford to anger it."
