Headaches may be the death of me...note to self: never do cocaine AGAIN, not matter what the attractive bad boy says.
That's all I'm able to write before I run to the bathroom to empty my stomach for the fourth time today. I may of had a bit too much to drink, and it didn't mix well with the effects of cocaine.
I didn't sleep one second last night, just laid in my bed shaking from the adrenalin running through my veins. At one point I felt as if I could run through every street in Manhattan, but when I pushed myself out of bed, my stomach stopped me before I could even think about taking a step.
The bathroom floor was cold, making my shivering more intense. I dragged my weak body over the white tiles to the bath, turning the control and making hot water pour from the faucet.
I undressed myself and pulled myself into the tub like life was waiting for me inside. My uncontrollable shivering began to cease as the water surrounded my body. I didn't know I was crying until my hand itched my right cheek.
My Iphone rang from inside my jeans that I discarded on the tiles. I reached over and answered on the last ring.
"H-Hello?" My voice was shaky and hoarse.
"Brinley?" Danica questioned on the other end, "Are you crying?"
"Yes." I whimpered. "My head hurts, a-and I keep getting sick, and I'm shaking s-so much."
I heard her sigh. "I'm sorry, Brin. I didn't know it would have this much of an effect on you."
I didn't speak - I couldn't. I placed my phone on the rim of the bath after putting it on speaker.
"How about I come over with some coffee and we watch Grey's. Sound nice?" She suggested, shuffling around.
I smiled, my teeth lightly chattering. "Y-Yeah. But, I need s-some help."
"Anything." She answered.
I looked at my legs in the water, but my nerves were numb.
"I'm stuck in the bath."
-
"It's a beautiful day to save lives." Dr.Shepherd said before beginning his surgery. His eyes smiled, and even though a surgical mask covered his lips, you could sense they wore a smile.
If I didn't love writing as much as I do, I would be a plastic surgeon. My perfectionist personality comes with being a Virgo, so you could say I'd fit the job perfectly.
The episode quickly came to an end and the sun was setting over the buildings. My reaction to the cocaine had seemed to wear off since Danica knew what she was dealing with when she took care of me.
"Feeling better!" She asked, tugging the sleeves of her sweater over her hands. "It's so fucking cold in here."
I nodded, mimicking her action of pulling my sweater sleeves further over my fingers. "Sorry, the mechanic is coming soon."
Danica turned away from the television and look at my pale face. "So what did you think of Harry?"
I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Uh...He's alright."
She scoffed at my statement. "Only alright? He's your type, with the tattoos and all."
I chuckled. "He only said eleven words to me last night." I grabbed my coffee mug off the table, gripping my hands around it for some warmth. "Not that I was counting."
Danica shook her head while smiling. "I figured you would. You writers are fucking weird."
My leg shoved her, a playful smile plastered on my face. "Not as weird as you artists."
