Disconnected

Chapter Seventy- Seven

Daniella

I slide my legs over the bed and sigh. Last night was great. I had a lot of fun. I think everyone else had a lot of fun too. Especially Michael and me after we got back to the house. That was a rollercoaster in itself.

I quietly and slowly get out of the bed, trying my best to not wake Michael. We had a long night. He needs his sleep.

I stop, stand in the middle of the floor, and hold my stomach. My eyes widen. I know this feeling. I do not like this feeling.

I run in to the bathroom and bend over in the sink as the feeling of nausea takes over me. The toilet is too far away. I don't feel like I can make it.

After gagging and having no result other than a disgusting taste in my mouth, I stand back up and grab my toothbrush.

I hate feeling like I am going to throw up.

I stick the toothbrush in my mouth and begin brushing as I hold my breath to fight off the urge to gag again. Throwing up while brushing your teeth has got to be super disgusting. I don't want to try it and find out just how terrible it tastes. I am fine with not knowing exactly what that feels and tastes like.

I yank the toothbrush out of my mouth and bend closer to the sink again. This is the absolute worst feeling in the world.

I spit the foam out of my mouth and proceed to wash the remaining toothpaste out, my stomach slowly and violently eating away at my insides.

I must have gotten food poisoning from something I ate yesterday. Or the stomach flu from someone at the event yesterday. Or maybe all the traveling I have been doing has opened me up to billions of little bacteria cells that have begun attacking my body at its weakest points.

I rinse my face off and press a towel over my skin to dry the water up. I throw the towel over the shower doors and walk back out in to my room.

Michael sits up in bed as I stand in the doorway between my room and the bathroom, holding my stomach. He pulls the blanket up over his body and looks at me, silently trying to figure out what is wrong.

I walk closer. "Are you okay?" He asks. "You are walking funny. Did I hurt you last night?" He asks, throwing some boxers on before walking over, worried about me.

"No it's not that. It's- I'm just not feeling so good." I say, having no reason to lie to him. We all get sick right? Michael will understand if I don't want to do anything with him today, right? At least I hope he does. At the moment, I don't think I will even want to leave this room at all today.

I might be stuck in the bathroom all day depending on how bad I am feeling.

"Okay." Michael says, grabbing my shoulders and pulling me in for a soft hug. He releases me and points to the bed. "Go lay down and I will make you some soup or something."

I shake my head. "Food will just make it worse." I grab my stomach tighter. "I'm fine. I just want to lay down."

I don't want to throw up in front of him. He will think it is disgusting. I don't want Michael to see me anything other than perfect. I want him to think I am perfect.

"Okay, go lay down and I'll get you a cold wash cloth." Michael presses his hand to my forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever though." He smiles and brushes a piece of hair out of my face. "I'm going to take care of you, Dani. Don't worry, I still think you look beautiful."

"I-" I push past him and back in to the bathroom, collapsing over the toilet as my stomach forcefully removes everything inside of it and dumps it all in to the toilet.

Michael pulls my hair back and loosely ties it with a hair tie he probably found on the counter by the shower.

Feeling a little better, I wipe my mouth with a tissue and lean back against the shower door, curled up. I hate throwing up.

Michael throws his arm around me and rubs his hand up and down my arm. "It's okay Daniella. It's okay."