Vern.

Untitled Part 1

           Entry 543 of the Second Book.

Might as well call me crazy because all these heat strokes have me brain dead. 

Yup it happened again, the second one of the day so far. But this one started off differently. My vision went in and out where all I would see were blotchy white spots in the darkness. And then there he was or at least I thought it was him. Probably sensed my distress or whatever the fuck he claims he feels toward me.

                                                                                                   ~

"Shit" he probably screamed but I could barely hear

I felt my eyes close and felt his cold hand on my neck. The sudden elevation brought nausea. I swung my head back with as much strength as I could and began elbowing him since my arm was trapped underneath him. 

"I know" was all his said like he was my lover, cooing me to relax. It isn't possible right? This man, is a stranger to me, was a stranger to me not two weeks ago and here he is taking care of me like I'm the closes person to him, or might as well be him.  

But not that he's cracked the ice, we've barely spoken, and I've exchanged more glares and distorted faces his way than any single letter from the first word I've have spoken, which was "Uhmm".

It just baffles me the kindness he is directing towards a stranger. But yet I suppose he has to. 

I lost my strength and my head drops back, letting him hold the weight of my upper body. 

But then I feel his fingers on the hem of my shirt. As I began lifting my head to glare the fuck out of him, energy coming from rage, I felt extreme nausea. Nausea that I couldn't control by closing my eyes or facing my palm down on the cold tile...yes I was sleeping on the floor like a dog, literally a few blankets on the floor.

I felt this sensation in my chest, one that I was all too familiar with, it was one of the ways I tried to quicken death, drinking.

"I'm just going to-" he tried explaining while lifting me and the shirt up.

...And I thought he claimed he could sense what's happening to me...

He didn't get to finish whatever he was going to explain. Once he brought my head up I couldn't take it any longer. All my thoughts were going to throw up, don't throw up, don't think about throwing up. But too late I thought it.

My puke actually splattered on his chest. "Blllllllaaaaaaaahhh" and puke more puke.

My breathing quickened, my throat burned, and the proximity of my vomit made me want to vomit more.

I pulled back, shit practically threw myself. But I didn't go anywhere, he wouldn't let me go anywhere. His hands on my shoulder stopped me.

I started dry heaving and he patted my back saying "It's okay just let it out" again cooing me like some lover. But how couldn't I? My head was bent down right in front of his chest, that I  just flipping threw up on.

I tried to stop dry heaving to look up at him "J-just mooove" I looked at his chin and noticed some chunks of my vomit and "bllllaaaaaah" some more vomit on his neck.

I thought he would've moved...any smart person would've even if they claimed they "love" you. They would've politely grabbed your hair for you won't throw up on it or grabbed a trash bag but he let me throw up on him, twice and in a row. Like fuuuuuck someone stab me i don't need to or want to deal right now. 

I was semi wrong though...he was disgusted.

I felt myself moving. I thought it was just my head spinning but nope I was moving.

My hands reached out crazily to grab something but there was only air.

"Smaaack" if the back of my head wasn't flat well now it is .

"Mmmmmmmm" I layed there in an odd position letting the pain go away. Turned out those hands were saving me and there went that.

Moments passed before he phased back in "uhh sorry" he grabbed for me but I swatted his arms away. 
 
That didn't stop him he just pulled on my upper arms "Are you fucken serious! I don't need you! Leave me alone!" I flayed my arms and legs.

And he actually did making my head smack against the floor once more.

I cradled my head and bit my lip in pain "ass"  

But all I heard was his footsteps on the tile, walking away and then the clang of metal opening and closing. Of course he didn't forget to lock me in.