Trust Me

Chapter 8

“Ash, Isaiah’s here!” Mom called up the stairs to me.  I looked at the time on my cell phone.  Nine in the morning.  I still lay in a ball on the bathroom floor, bouncing back and forth between crying, trying to sleep, and vomiting up whatever was in my stomach due to the guilt.  I tried to sip water each time, because the cool water always calmed my stomach a little bit.  But then I’d fall asleep and another vivid dream of what had happened in that apartment would have me waking up and vomiting all over again.

“Coming,” I called back.

As I descended the stairs, I did my best to wipe the tears from my face to erase the evidence of what had happened the night before.  Though, nothing could really erase that, could it?  Sure, I could wipe away my tears.  I could brush my teeth and get rid of the vomit.  But I’d always remember that I had made out with Aidan.  And he wouldn’t let me forget it.

“Ash, what’s wrong?” he asked me as soon as he saw me.  There was no hiding my wet, puffy, red eyes.  I wouldn’t have been able to erase the tears fast enough.

“Nothing,” I told him.  His arms came around me and I buried my head into his shoulder, which made the guilt spike even more.  I was a horrible person.  I couldn’t believe I did that to him.  And even still, I didn’t regret it.

“Hey, if there’s anything wrong, you know you can talk to me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead on mine.  It was that moment he caught a whiff of my breath, scrunched up his nose, and looked at me with more concern.

“I’m not feeling the best right now,” I explained.  As I explained it, my stomach twisted tighter and tighter.  He just needed to leave.  I had to figure out how to deal with the guilt, but he really had to leave while I did that.

“Are you okay?” he asked.  Yeah.  There I was crying and reeking of vomit. Of course I was okay!  I had the sarcastic remark on the tip of my tongue, but he was just trying to be sweet and care for me.  Which made the knot even tighter.  Great.

“Not really.  I was on the bathroom floor all night.  I think I have a stomach virus,” I lied.  Unless Aidan Fosco could be considered a stomach virus. 

“All right, well, I guess just go back to bed and feel better soon.  Call or text me if you need anything,” he offered.  I nodded my head and stared at the hardwood floor in the hall.  His arms held me close for another second before he kissed me on the cheek and walked out of the door.  I waved to him and closed my eyes.

“Ash, do you want me to make you some chicken broth?” Mom offered as I turned to go back up the stairs. 

“Not now, but thanks.  I’m just going to go get a shower and try to get some sleep,” I told her. 

The shower I took was so hot and so long that I was surprised my skin didn’t burn right off.  I didn’t care.  The steam and heat clouded my mind long enough for me to just relax a little bit.  Though, as soon as I stepped out of the shower, I looked like I had a nasty sun burn with my bright red skin.

My stomach had stopped trying to become part of a circus act after my shower, so I was able to actually brush my teeth and put on my pajamas without throwing myself to the toilet. 

“Ash, how’re you feeling?” Mom ended up calling up the stairs when she heard the bathroom door open. 

“A little bit better.  I’m just going to go hang in my room for a little while,” I replied.  

“Let me know if you need anything,” she offered.

“Thanks!”

My exhaustion started to roll over me as I opened the door to my room.  I just wanted to sleep and get my mind out of its constant state of guilt-ridden panic.  Sleep would be good for me.  Whenever I only got a few hours of it, my mind always blew everything out of proportion and drove me insane.