Cold Snap (Warriors: S1B3)

Chapter 7

Earth date: 10/24/11, 16:49

I've never been a puker. I've had a few stomach bugs, but I've never eaten anything undercooked, never eaten something I'm allergic to, none of that.

With all that being said, I barely got de-armored before feeling bile rush up my throat.

Will stepped in front of me, holding a bucket that I swore wasn't there a moment before. I wasn't going to ask questions, though. I vomited, leaning over the bucket and spewing. Bette stepped behind me and pulled my hair back, keeping it away from my face. The smell of puke only made my stomach rebel even more. When I finally finished, my knees felt wobbly, and I could barely stay on my feet.

Bette touched my back. "Come on, Margaret. Follow me." She took the puke bucket from me and motioned me to follow her. She led me to a bathroom and went down the line, turning on all the faucets until the bathroom echoed with the sound of water hitting porcelain. 

"Go on," Bette said. "Let it out." She nodded towards an open stall.

I stepped into the stall and kicked the door shut behind me, latched it shut. And I let the tears flow.

I cried. I wailed. I screamed. I beat at the walls, punching and slapping and beating until my knuckles were red and bruised and my fingers were sore. And all throughout, I could hear Bette flushing the contents of the puke bucket, followed by water hitting metal as she washed it out in one of the sinks. Eventually, I tired myself out. I ended up sitting on the toilet, sniffling and swiping at my eyes. 

One by one, the faucets stopped running. There was a gentle knock on the stall door, and Bette said, "Margaret?"

"Here," I said. I hated how croaky my voice sounded.

"Do you feel better?"

Physically, I did. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be puking anymore. And yet, if I closed my eyes, I could still see officers falling to the ground, flailing meaty stubs of what used to be limbs or crawling towards colleagues that were barely recognizable as human beings. "I don't know," I said, and my voice cracked as I said it.

"Do you mind unlocking the door?"

I did. Bette was there. So were Jay and Frazz. Seeing Jay standing there, I wanted to retreat back into the stall.

"Margaret, are you OK?" he asked.

Some absurd part of me wanted to giggle. I stood there, no doubt smelling like vomit even from 10 feet away, with my hands red and bruised from whaling on a bathroom stall's wall and my eyes red from crying, and here was this boy asking me if I was OK. I clapped a hand over my mouth and giggled. I kept on giggling, escalating to full-on laughter. I staggered around the bathroom, hysterical laughter following me like a stray dog nipping at my ankles.

"Oh, she's crazy," Frazz said.

My laughter cut out as swift as the faucets. I stared directly at Frazz.

"I'm crazy?!?" I yelled. "We watched a bunch of innocent people die, and there you are cracking jokes, and I'm crazy?!? Jesus Christ Frazz, what is wrong with you?"

Frazz and Jay's eyes bugged out of their head. Bette tugged at her collar. "Margaret..." she started.

"Come on Frazz, answer the question! What. Is. Wrong. With. You?!?"