Fighting For Love

VI - The Next Day

     Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, my pretties!!

    Today the author note is really small, I have nothing that important to say, except:

     Enjoy!

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    Chapter 6: The Next Day

     I woke up to something poking my back.

     I opened my eyes and turned to meet whoever was doing that. I met Otto's lips, who did a very good job taking my sleep away. His arms were wrapped around me.

     "Good morning, my love."

     "Good morning."

     I kissed him again. His lips were so addictive, how could I ever live without them? His hands went from my arms to my hips and he flipped me, so now I was under him.

     "Guess what?" He said, coming closer to my ear, he bit my earlobe and whispered "I love you."

     In a leap of strength, I flipped him. Guess who is under who now?

     "I love you more," I said. He smiled a beautiful smile.

     "Umm, I don't think so."

     "Oh, you don't?" He shook his head.

     "Then I'll show you." I kissed him.

     It was all perfect until a sudden brightness made everything go away.

    October the 5th, 1939, 5:00

    Frankfurt, Germany

     I woke up with a strong light against my face. Ugh, who bothered my dreams?

     Scared that I had lost the hour, I jumped out of bed and looked through the curtains, only to realize that, the life I had seen, belonged to a spotlight, not to the sun. Relieved, I turned around to return to bed, which made me notice that Otto was not there.

    Right after that, before I could even have the time to think about where he could be, I heard the sound of someone throwing up in the bathroom. Though, by the sound of it, it was as though he was throwing up his own organs.

     I ran to the bathroom and found Otto sitting on the floor, hugging the toilet. He faked a smile when he saw me. I squatted next to him and shook my head in disapproval. I knew this was going to happen.

     "I am sorry I woke you up." He said, his voice was low, almost a whisper.

     "You didn't, I woke up to the spotlight."

    "What spotlight?"

    "How long have you been here?"

    "Eh," he shrugged, "I don't know. Fifteen minutes, maybe? I haven't been throwing up all this time, okay? I only did when I woke up and got here and now.

    "And how are you feeling now?"

     "Sober, I guess." He straightened his backs against the wall. "Ugh, I am never drinking again."

     "Talking about it, I will get you some water."

     "Please, you don't have to go downstairs!" He shouted from the bathroom as I came back to the bedroom.

     "No need!" I shouted back "I got a jar of water last night." I grabbed a cup and filled it.

     I walked back to the bathroom and gave him the glass. He took a good sip, shook the water in his mouth and leaned against the toilet to spill it. Not why I had gotten the water for, but if that is what he wished to do, who was I to stop him?