The Fall of Family

Chapter Fifteen

I woke up to another stomachache. I groaned inside because I wanted this stupid hangover to go away. Why did I drink so much last night? Ugggg.

I rolled over to the other side, the side facing the door of my room. Picking up my phone, I read the time, 11:00 am. I heard footsteps and quiet talking in the small house. I remembered Dad and Drew waiting for me last night after I woke up at Mathew's. My face immediately got hot and my stomach dropped into my feet. I knew I was in trouble, big trouble.

Out of nowhere, I heard the doorknob click, and I closed my eyes and opened my mouth slightly so I looked like I was sleeping, out of second nature. I felt my eyelids fluttering and saw flashes of light in my room in the bottom of my eye. I was trying to relax my eyelids, but was failing miserably. Relying on sound, I heard someone open the door slightly and take a few footsteps in the room.

I heard the footsteps walk over to me, and I remembered to breathe heavily like I was sleeping. I cursed myself for being such a horrible actor and continued to pretend.

That's when my stomach churned.

Abandoning the act, my eyes flew open and I shot up like a rocket to the bathroom. On my way, I identified the person in my room, it was Dad, again, probably checking on me, like dads do.

I threw up on the way, but forced myself to keep my mouth closed, which was a difficult task, let me tell ya. I felt the horrible stomach acid and alcohol pool in my mouth. I gagged, my body trying to force the awful *stuff* out of my mouth, and eventually winning the poorly matched fight.

I spat out the puke on the floor, right onto the carpet. I continued running into the bathroom, where I collapsed on the floor, where the toilet lid was (thankfully, for once in my life) up. My dad ran in after me, shouting at me the whole time, but I couldn't tell if it was positive or negative.

After my ordeal, I spat the rest of the barf out and walked back into my room, passing the pile on the way. I groaned and turned around, walking to the hallway cabinet, where the cleaning supplies was located. I picked up my necessary supplies and cleaned up my mess.

I started gagging at the funny texture and eventually got it cleaned up, with what I thought was a decent job, too. As I was returning the trash can to the kitchen, I ran into Dad.

He was staring at me, with the most mind-burning, flesh-devouring, punishment-giving stink eye. I was suddenly very interested in my toes and I felt my face start burning up with self shame.

He spoke first. "I know what a hangover looks like when I see one." I felt my stomach drop even farther into the unknown abyss as he continued. "No TV for a week. And no more parties next weekend while you're at it." I groaned inside, knowing I would not benefit from the short grounding period, but deep down inside, I knew I deserved worse.

I looked up at him and said, "Okay, Dad," knowing he would probably not be happy with the response and trudged back to my room.

I jumped onto my bed, letting it comfort me as it slowly came to a stop.

I heard the door open and I knew it wasn't Dad. I let Drew sit on my bed, not moving to show extreme boredom. I saw out of the corner of my eye, that he looked at me and chuckled.

"Rough night, uh?" He said. I replied with a nod.

"No more parties?" He asked.

I nodded.

"For a week?"

I nodded.

"No TV, either?"

I nodded again as I started to laugh. It was crazy how much he knew me.

"I would've had a month of no TV, count yourself lucky."

I knew he was probably right, being the first child and everything.

He leaned over my head to give me a kiss, but more of a resting of the lips on my forehead; a brotherly thing he has done a million times before. "I love you," he said, and left the room with merely that.

After he closed the door behind him, my eyelids got heavy, and I could feel myself falling asleep.

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I woke to, nothing. I couldn't figure out what woke me up. It was probably just a weird feeling you get like your body saying, "WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP. Actually, I dunno why, I just felt like waking up."

I reached up to grabbed my phone and saw the time, 3:00 pm. Bored out of my mind, still with a minor hangover, I unlocked it and opened Twitter. I scrolled through my followers accounts, mainly cute guy celebrities I had no chance of meeting or marrying. Dang it. I got to 4 years ago, a new personal record.

After feeling slightly accomplished from the new record, I opened my messages. I found it slightly strange when 23 new messages appeared from Mathew. I opened the conversation and read through the texts. I groaned, because they were just spams that said everything from I like Cheesecake to Hey. Apparently, he was more bored then I was.

I replied hey, sorry about last night. Still got a hangover, what's up?

After typing the sentence, I put my phone down and looked at the ceiling, studying the shadows on it. My stomach still hurt like heck, though, and I just wished I could stop barfing. For the first time, I considered that something was actually wrong with me. I shook it off, knowing that I was just having an upset stomach for the last few days and heard my stomach rumble. A deep, food-wanting grumble.

I reached under my pillow and grabbed a granola bar I remembered I had from yesterday. I swallowed it whole, realizing how hungry my stomach was from throwing up 3 times. My phone hadn't beeped yet, so I assumed Mathew wasn't on his phone. 

I rolled over and got into a position that relieved the pain as much as it could be relieved, I ended up in the fetal position. From there, I pulled the covers up to my chin, hoping tomorrow the pain wouldn't be turning my insides out.