Billie Jean • [DISCONTINUED]

7 | Billie Jean

| Recap |

I made a bowl of soup and attempted to take the first bite. But for some strange reason, the smell of it is making me sick.

I somehow ignore the smell and take a bite of it anyway.

"Oh... oh no. Oh no," I whispered.

Feels like my stomach is on fire. It's coming, I know it.

I quickly ran to the bathroom and finished the rest.

"This sucks. I don't know why but, I can't eat anything!" I yelled in frustration.

"Was it the soup?" mom asked.

"Yes. The smell of it was making me so nauseous and lightheaded. Then I take a bite of it like an idiot, and that's when I threw up."

"Maybe you didn't have a taste for it," she said. "Try to eat something light, like a can of chicken noodle soup."

"No. I can't eat anything. I don't have the appetite right now, especially after throwing up."

"Well, how about a glass of water?"

"Okay," I nodded.

She quickly poured me a tall glass of water, and I started to take small sips.

"Better?"

I gave her a thumbs up.

"Billie you still have to eat. How about a bowl of ice cream?"

"No mom, I'm fine."

"Well, suit yourself," she shrugged before heading towards the stove.

"I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. I was as healthy as a horse, now I feel like dying."

"Your stomach obviously didn't agree with the soup. What was it anyway? Beefaroni?"

"No it was ravioli, which is weird because ravioli is my fave. I eat it all the time, since when does it make me sick?"

I noticed that she's scrambling eggs and the aroma is killing me.

Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I have never felt like this, ever.

"Mom are you scrambling eggs?"

"Yes, as well as bacon, sausage, and biscuits."

"Oh God," I mumbled. This can not be real. What happened to me? Why am I so sick?

"Billie? Are you still feeling sick?" she asked.

"I'm craving pickles. We still have a jar left right?"

"You're craving pickles?" she retorted.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Um okay. Check the top cabinet."

Luckily for me, there's only one jar left. I grab it as well as a jar of mustard, and make my way back to the kitchen table.