Demons (hemmings au)

Eleven

After watching television for six hours and eating a whole quart of ice cream I decide to just go to bed and get a good sleep for school tomorrow. Flying up the stairs I take a quick shower and put on my old SpongeBob pajama shorts and a big t-shirt before getting in my large bed and pulling up the covers. I fall into a dreamless, peaceful sleep not even scared about being home alone. 

To my dismay, the stress-free sleep doesn’t last very long. I wake up at 5am, my middle killing me. Wrapping my arm around my own stomach I sprint to the bathroom and throw up all of the ice cream and God knows what else into the toilet. I sit with my head in the bowl for a second, breathing heavily. I suddenly feel very cold, but putting my hand up to my forehead like my mom always does when I’m sick I feel the sleek shine of sweat beading up. Shit, this is not ideal. 

I slowly stand up and walk the few steps to the sink so I can brush my teeth, I don’t really feel like I have to throw up again so I think maybe it was just the ice cream and now it’s over. I quickly wash my face with cold water and put some toothpaste on my brush and start to wipe it over my teeth wanting to get the awful taste out of my mouth as quickly as possible. Before I can even wash my mouth out though the feeling comes back and I am down with my face in the toilet bowl again. 

After I am done throwing up for the second time I practically crawl out to my bedroom and get my cell phone from my night stand. I look through my numbers deciding who I want to call, I finally decide on calling my dad. He may be a little more sympathetic than my mom will be. After about ten rings he finally picks up, I have forgotten that he will still probably be asleep. 

“Hello, Ellie is something wrong?” he asks half asleep, but still trying to act concerned. 

“Dad, I need to know where the medicine is,” I groan into the phone, feeling the acid build up in my stomach again. I get up and run to the bathroom throwing the phone on the floor beside me as I release the contents of my stomach into the toilet again. 

“Honey what’s wrong? Did you just throw up?” I hear my dad yelling from the phone, I know my mom must now be awake with how loud he is talking and I am sure she is sitting right beside him listening on speaker phone. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong. I just need some medicine,” I say as slowly as possible as if talking sluggishly will keep me from getting sick again. 

“Okay, well what’s wrong so I can tell you which medicine to get from the cabinet,” my mom speaks up. 

“I’m pretty sure I have a fever and I’m just throwing up,” I sigh, just wanting to get some pills or something in my system so I can get back to sleep. 

“Okay, go downstairs and get some of the flu medicine and get back to bed. I will call you later and see how you are doing, don’t worry about going to school today I don’t want you getting sick there,” my mom says very quickly, her voice strained as if she feels bad for not being here in my time of need. 

“Okay, bye,” I murmur hanging up the phone and pushing myself up from the floor with the help of the toilet seat. I walk towards the bedroom door and look down in agony at the stairs, why did my parents decide they wanted the grand freaking staircase from Titanic in our house. I groan but slowly make my way down to the kitchen, holding my stomach the whole time hoping the pressure will keep me from having to throw up again. I grab the medicine quickly, take some with a glass of water and decide to bring the rest back up to bed with me. 

Getting back up to my room I put the medicine and my cell phone back on the night stand and go towards the bathroom, putting my hair up in a messy bun and brushing my teeth so hopefully I can get a few more hours of sleep. I look in the large mirror and see that my face is unusually pale and covered in sweat, my lips a dull pink color. Where the hell did I get this bug from?