Band-Aids On Bruises

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"I love you."

That's what I hear Fisher whisper as I close the door. My heart does flips and I feel my face grow hot. Fisher said he loved me! I smile stretches across my face, and I walk to my room. I then flop down on my bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it close to my chest.

Fantasies of Fisher play in my head. I feel like a giddy fangirl swooning over a famous actor. I imagine Fisher and I holding hands, going for walks on the beach, watching movies in the dark, living together, kissing each-!

Memories of Tyler flood into my thoughts when I think about kissing Fisher. The warmth I had been feeling a moment ago was gone, and my room suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. I can't stop remembering the events of the party though, and a cold sweat starts to form on my forehead.

I shudder and pull my covers over my body. My happiness is gone, and I feel scared and tired. I squirm underneath the sheets and images of the party, of the bedroom, of Tyler, Brad and Nick continue to flash in my head. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep, to return my train of thought to Fisher.

'He doesn't actually love you' a voice in my head whispers. 'He's only trying to make you feel better' I hug the pillow at my chest closer 'He knows about your crush, that's why he's doing it this way' I squeeze my closed eyes tighter 'It's not going to special for him to kiss you' more memories of Tyler 'Think about how many girls he might have had his lips on at the party' I feel sick 'He's probably had many girlfriends and boyfriends before' I let a small whimper loose 'You're not special.'

I lay there, thoughts like that running through my head, until I finally slip into sleep.

[The Next Day]

I nearly throw myself out of bed the next morning. My forehead is soaked with cold sweat, dried tears on my cheeks, my breathing is ragged, and I can't stop shaking. I had nightmares all night long, most of them being memories of the past few days.

Trembling, I pull myself out of bed and haul myself to the bathroom. There, I end up resting on my knees in front of the toilet and puking my guts out into it. Resting my head on the seat groaning, until I feel sick again and repeat the process.

By the time I'm feeling slightly better, my legs are sore and my throat burns from the acid, my head is hurting as well. I stand, legs wobbling, and look at myself in the mirror.

My face is almost completely drained of colour, my eyes bloodshot from crying, a runny nose, messy hair, and the white of my face contrasts the dull red of my neck. In short : I look like shit.

I trudge back to my room and fall back into my bed. I assume that I've got the flu, because of the runny nose, headache, and how my stomach had been feeling terrible.

I grab my phone from my bedside table and check the time. Eleven thirty, and I'm still tired. I decide to stay in bed for the rest of the day, so I text Fisher.

D : I'm sick :(

He responds quickly, thank goodness.

F : Awww, poor muffin

D : Can you keep me company through texts?

F : I can do better than that, brb

I stare at the text for a minute, trying to figure out what he means by that, until something in my brain clicks.

D : You better not be coming over here. I don't want to get you sick

F : Come on! Please?!