Tell Me The Truth | D.D.

Chapter Seven

I slouched back on the couch and let out a loud groan. Today was a day. And by that, I mean we had a whole new shipment of clothes, which meant I was sorting and marking clothes all day.

I had the apartment to myself tonight. Vic was out clubbing tonight, and Damiano was busy. I didn't mind though, hell I was almost happy that I could be by myself for a little bit. I sighed and went to go change.

While I changed, my stomach caught my eye. I went up to the mirror and frowned. Deciding to eat two meals today was not my best idea. My stomach looked bloated, and I tried to pull the skin different ways to hide the flab of fat.

I felt hot tears of frustration creep into my eyes. I don't know why, but seeing myself like this broke me. I slid down the wall as sobs raked my body.

You do know why my brain reminded me, and that cruel memory made me clench my stomach and sob harder than I was before.

It took me almost an hour to calm myself down. And I was so exhausted that I decided to go to bed. I went to the kitchen and found a bottle of tequila and took some gulps of it. Probably more than I should, I thought. But in all honesty, I didn't care. At that point, I don't think I would care if I didn't wake up at all.

Putting the bottle of tequila back, I went to my bed and passed out.

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I opened my eyes and immediately ran to the bathroom and started to violently throw up everything that could possibly be in my stomach.

"Are you throwing up?" I heard Vic scream from our living room. I let out a groan in response. I heard her stomp into her room and shut the door.

I laid down on the cold tile and drifted in and out of sleep. It felt nice on my face, especially since the naseau wouldn't go away. My head was also pounding, which made me oh so comfortable (note the sarcasm).

At some point, I heard the front door opening. But did I really care? No. I was too weak, and tired, and nauseated to care if someone broke into the apartment.

It was only when I heard my name being called that I realized it was Damiano. "In here," I said lazily. I heard his footsteps approach, and I slightly lifted my head just in time to see him walk into the room.

"Hey, Lina, you okay?" He asked, crouching next to me. I glared at him and said, "I feel like shit." He chuckled, "C'mon let's get you off the bathroom floor."

He gave me his hand and helped me up. "Lean on me," he told me, helping me get into my bed. "There you go," he said, tucking me in. "Could you get me some water?" I asked him in a small voice. He nodded and went into the kitchen.

He came back and gave the glass to me, sitting by my feet. I didn't realize how thirsty and dehydrated I was, so I ended up chugging the whole thing. I put the glass down on the nightstand and looked at Damiano.

He was staring off into the distance. He looked like he was thinking hard about something, which gave me an uneasy feeling. I pushed that feeling away in hoped of not throwing up again.

"Is Vic still locked in her room?" I asked as an attempt to make conversation. "No, she left after she called me. She has a fear of vomit," he told me. His voice sounded distant as if he were a thousand miles away. I hummed in response.

I turned onto my side and felt a surge of sleepiness kick in. I kept my eyes open, though. I didn't want to go to bed before Damiano said what he needed to. As if on cue, he met my eyes and took my hand. "Why are you hung over," he asked softly, using his other hand to stroke my hair.

My stomach dropped, and I realized I had to lie to him, a man that I possibly loved. It was easier to withhold the truth when no one asked, but this was a whole different category of complicated.

And of course my tired brain thought it was the best idea to go with the logical answer. "I was out last night with Vic," I said, looking him in the eye. I hoped and prayed that he bought it and didn't see the pan that it caused me. He nodded and kissed my forehead, "Go to sleep, Lina, I will make you some soup for when you wake up."

With his comforting words, I let myself drift off into a dreamless sleep. Or so I thought.

"It's fine, he'll come around," my mom said as we walked to the beach. I sighed, hoping that she was right. I had to say I wasn't surprised by my dad's reaction, but it still hurt me. "How about we go to the beach?" She asked, grabbing my hand. I smiled as she led the way to one of my favorite places.

When we got there, I immediately felt better. It was late summer, but the water was still warm. "Come one, let's go in," she said, running like a little kid into the water. I laughed, "I don't have a swimsuit on." She shook her head, "It's fine, I'll wash it." I shook my head and followed her in.

We swam around and splashed each other like little kids. But what we didn't notice is the weather. It had turned stormy very quickly, and we also didn't realize how far we had drifted. It all happened in a few seconds.

We crashed into a cluster of rocks, my mom getting hit in the head, me getting hit in the side. I think I blacked out after the second hit, I don't remember what happened after that. All I remember was the pain.

"I'm sorry your mother didn't make it," Were the next words I heard. They had come from the doctor. I had been waiting outside of her room, in my wheelchair.

I ripped myself out of the wheelchair and ran into the room, with doctors trying to push me back. "Mom, it's me, Coraline! Mom, please come back!" I said, shouting, grabbing onto her hand. It was cold and was drained of color. I sobbed harder.

I felt someone shaking my shoulder and felt blackness entrap me again. I tried to fight it, to stay with my mother longer. I was losing, though, and soon the shaking became more intense.