The Sound of Silence (Previously I Know What You Did Last Summer)

{Nine} Home

I woke up with my head in such an excruciating pain that I couldn't force my eyes open. It felt as if someone was taking a chisel and hammer against both temples-inside and out. The millisecond I did open my eyes, I cried out and rolled over on to my side, burying my face in the darkness of my hands to keep the sun from breaking through my half open lids and sending another sharp pain through my head.

I could feel an uneasiness begin to unfurl in my stomach in addition to the pain. The only time I'd felt this bad was seventh grade when I'd been sent home with an optical migraine. I'd tried so desperately to explain it to Landon during and after the headache, but he couldn't quite grasp exactly how I was feeling, so I had left it alone.

I curled my fingers in the sleeping back as my stomach started to churn. I knew I had only had about a minute before the little I'd eaten was going to come back up. I nearly threw myself through my bedroom window and rushed to the bathroom, missing the sink by a fraction of an inch the first time it came up. The second, I bent over the cold, white counter, pushing my hair back. With every movement came another sharp pain; a vicious cycle that continued until I started dry heaving. Once done, I twisted the hard knob on the sink and listened the running water, my fingers crossed that my brother and Colton were out or hadn't heard anything.

Unfortunately, I heard the thunderous sound of my brother's footsteps as he rushed up the stairs only seconds after I'd finished throwing up. The little energy I had running in here had been drained, my body slumping back against the bathroom door. Landon fought with my door, the knob jiggling in the hinges for a few seconds before it was pushed open and I was greeted by the not-so-pleasant sight of his worried expression. He looked toward the sink, touching his forearm to his mouth for a moment, as if he were trying to ease his own stomach and took a towel to it, wiping the little that had ended up on the counter.

I jerked away the moment the back of his warm hand pressed against my cheek, then my forehead. He shook his head, eyes wandering my ashen face.

"You're staying home today." he said quietly. "You're going to a doctor tomorrow and I don't want you to fight me. Now go lay down, get some rest, and make sure to keep your phone at your side at all times so I can call and check in on you, alright?"

I nodded, only adding to the pounding in my head from his seemingly loud speaking. I turned my back to him, touching the beads of cold sweat along my forehead. I hoped sitting on my bed would be enough to get him out of the room for a little while. In the case I'd get sick again, I didn't want him present. He stared at me for what felt like a century before he nodded to himself and stalked out of my room.

Sadly, with his exit came Colton's entrance.

I half expected him to laugh and tell me that this was the consequence of downing nearly a bottle of liquor last night, but he didn't even look in my direction. He set a plate with a chocolate chip bagel on the comforter beside me, then laid another with a glass of ice water and a bottle of Advil on my nightstand. His eyes find mine for a minute and we stared at each other until he finally broke contact. He closed my door behind him, leaving it open only a crack so my brother wouldn't have to fight it again.

The tip of my index finger brushed across the smooth surface of the bagel; a food that I'd fallen in love with at a young age and had been inseparable with since. Nobody had ever been able to talk me out of eating a bagel every morning-except myself, I suppose.

I then turned my attention to the water and Advil, my eyes tracing the outline of Colton's fingerprints along the dewy glass. I touched the lid of the pills, shooting a look toward the door, struggling to get each word passed my raw throat as if the athlete still stood in my doorway.