Death of the Vanguard

Chapter Five

I sit up, and the afternoon sun is shining brightly through the window.

It's much too bright.

I roll over, and the shatter of glass as an empty bottle rolls to the floor is much too loud.

I groan, and shut my eyes, trying to block out the pounding headache.

How much did I drink? Evidently enough to get a huge hangover.

After reading the letter last night, I opted to drown my sorrow and confusion in alcohol.

I've never gotten drunk before, so I guess at what to do. I start to get out of bed, but as soon as I stand, I fall again.

The dizziness and nausea send me rushing to the bathroom as fast as I can as I can barely walk.

Halfway to the toilet, I vomit in the middle of the floor. I feel feverish and sticky.

When I get to the toilet, I puke again. It gets in my hair, and sticks to my face. The noise of the toilet flushing makes me wince.

I start to puke again, my hair falling in my face.

Cool fingers press into my temples and brush back my hair. "You know." I smiling voice says. "You really shouldn't leave the door open at night. Especially when you're planning on having a hangover the next morning."

"I'll take that into consideration." I say when I finish dry heaving.

"Shh. . ." he says. His cold hands soothe my headache a bit, and it helps when he holds back my hair.

But the dizziness combined with nausea is overwhelming, and I black out.

When I wake up, it's the middle of the night again, and I'm in bed. I can barely make or fuzzy memories of my hangover between all the vomiting. I start to roll over drowsily. The last thing I know is an arm around me and a sleepy whispering. "Go back to sleep Amelia. It's alright."