Beyond the Family Ties

Part 10

Groaning as she came to, a beam of sunlight falling across her face, Becky burrowed deeped under the covers, burying her face against the mattress as she willed sleep to creep back over her. Her head was throbbing and the room felt stiflingly hot, heavy blankets weighing her down. Kicking them off, Becky lay spread across the bed in her underwear, her forehead furrowed as sunlight painted the inside of her eyelids orange. Grumbling, she blearily opened her eyes, realising that the slant of the sunlight filtering in through the windows was coming from the wrong angle.

Blinking back sleep, she pushed herself up, running a hand through the stiff, frizzy curls and taking in the layout of Freen's room. Becky's dress was carefully hanging up on the back of the door, two medical books and a romance novel stacked on the nightstand, a messy pile of pillows on the floor. Scrambling upright, Becky felt her cheeks flush red as she pulled the blankets up to her chest and turned to look at the empty space beside her. Hazy thoughts slipped through the blackness of the night before. The smell of rain, warm hands, the taste of peach liqueur, Freen whispering that it was just for fun. A look of panic flitted across Becky's face, and her stomach twisted uncomfortably. It took her a moment to figure out that it was nausea.

Short of vomiting in Freen's bed, Becky clumsily staggered to her feet, nearly tripping over herself in her haste. The bathroom was right next to Freen's room, on the opposite side of the apartment from Becky and Laure's rooms, and she was grateful for it as she stepped out into the hallway and burst straight into it. Falling hard on her knees, pain dully flaring up, she threw the toilet seat up and vomited straight into the bowl, her skin rippling with goosebumps as she tried to keep her hair out of the way. Her throat burned as she heaved, last night's alcohol tracing a fiery path back up her throat as her skin turned clammy with a cold sweat.

The patter of footsteps grew closer and closer, followed by the heavier sound of footsteps chasing after them, before a small figure paused in the open doorway. Becky was hunched over, her mouth dry, throat aching, and the sound of Freen's whispered coaxing floating into the bathroom behind her. Turning around, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, all too aware of her state of undress, Becky glanced at her daughter over her shoulder, her eyes darting up to Freen for a moment, before a wan smile faintly curled her lips as Laurel stared at her with wide brown eyes.

"Hi baby," Becky murmured, resting her cheek on her arm as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Mommy," Laurel exclaimed, her high pitched voice making Becky's headache more pronounced, despite the lightness that filled Becky at her presence. Moving to step into the bathroom, Laurel was stopped by Freen's hand darting out to gently catch her, pulling her back a few steps.

"Come on, Little Duck, let's leave mommy alone for a little bit. How about we go and draw her a nice picture?" Freen said, holding out a hand, which Laurel willingly took, already tugging on it to get her moving, and with a grim look of understanding, Freen shut the bathroom door. She left Becky sitting on the cold floor, her skin feeling hot, despite the fact that she seemed to have lost everything except her underwear, and the bathroom was frigid from the cold radiation from the tiles.

After a cool shower, during which she was sick twice, Becky felt marginally better. The smell of alcohol had been scrubbed from her skin, along with sweat and the sticky feeling of spilt drinks, and she felt more awake after splashing water on her face. Wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she vigorously brushed her teeth, the taste of mint overpowering the taste of smoke and mixed drinks, although her mouth was so dry that she desperately needed some water more than anything. Water, and some aspirin for her banging headache. And clothes, she really needed some clothes before anything else.

A fluffy white bathrobe was on the back of the door - it was Freen's, she thought, or Freen had stolen it off her and Becky had let her - and she hurriedly slipped it on, tying it tightly around her waist, before emerging from the bathroom. Feet dragging, she followed the sounds of quiet conversation down the hallway, and poked her head out, her expression softening, despite the roiling nausea fighting to rise up.