Life's What You Make It

Chapter 56

Oop she's back again

It's a rollercoaster of a chapter, please don't hate me, i swear it'll get better lmaoo

This will be the last chapter for a while before I jet off on holiday for 2 months so don't forget to comment and vote, i'll still be online xoxo

Beyoncé's POV

I woke slowly, the first sliver of consciousness a heavy weight on my chest. For a moment, I forgot where I was, what had transpired. Then the stale scent of alcohol, faintly lingering in the air, and the solid, still-warm weight of Jasmine curled against me, brought it all rushing back. The events of the night before, from Jordyn's desperate call to the harrowing discovery of Jasmine's injured shoulder and violent sickness, replayed in my mind like a terrifying reel.

I carefully shifted, easing my arm from under Jasmine's head. She stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping her, but remained in a deep, oblivious sleep. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 9:17 AM. Much later than I usually woke, but after the night we'd had, it felt like a miracle I'd slept at all.

"Mmmph... no... oh..." Her whimpers were low, a sound of profound discomfort, her body shifting erratically beside me. I looked over, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and saw her stirring fitfully. I reached for her, my hand instinctively going to her forehead. She was warm again, her skin clammy.

Just as I was contemplating easing myself out of bed, a familiar, unsettling sound jolted me fully awake. A soft, guttural gagging sound. Jasmine. Again.

My eyes snapped open, darting to her face. She was still deeply asleep, but her mouth was beginning to contort, her body subtly tensing. I looked over to Shawn's side of the bed. Empty. The sheets were cool to the touch. He must have already gotten up with Blue, probably hours ago, considering the light filtering in. A heavy sigh escaped me. The morning had truly begun, even if the main players were still out cold.

"Jas? Baby?" I whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Come on, sweetie. You're going to be sick."

She just whimpered, burrowing deeper into the pillow, her response a muffled, incoherent protest. Her eyelids remained stubbornly sealed. It was clear she wasn't going to wake up on her own. The thought of another mess on the carpet, or even worse, in our bed, sent a shiver of dread through me.

Despite the ache in my back and the growing weight of my pregnant belly, I knew I had to act fast. With a grunt, I carefully sat up, then maneuvered myself to the side of the bed. I slid my arm under Jasmine's limp body, trying to hook her onto my hip. She was heavy, a dead weight, but I managed, gritting my teeth. Her head lolled against my shoulder, her breath hot and acidic against my neck. The faint scent of stale alcohol was still nauseatingly present.

I carried her, the few steps into our ensuite bathroom. The cool tile under my bare feet was a slight shock. I carefully knelt beside the toilet, easing her head forward. Almost immediately, her body convulsed, and she began to dry heave, then a fresh wave of vomit splashed into the bowl. It was mostly bile now, but still sharp and unpleasant.

"That's it, baby," I murmured, stroking her hair back from her forehead, holding it away from her face with one hand while the other supported her. "Get it all out. You'll feel better. Good girl."

She continued to retch, small, pathetic sounds escaping her. As furious as I was with her, it broke my heart to see her so vulnerable, so utterly miserable, even in her unconscious state. When she was finally finished, slumping back against me, I reached for a face cloth and gently wiped her mouth.

I flushed the toilet, then carefully carried her back to the bed. It felt like a small victory to have avoided another clean-up on the floor. I gently laid her back down, arranging her so her head was slightly elevated by an extra pillow, just in case.