Peanut Butter Fingerprints

Chapter 1

"Love is Weakness, Love is Strength"

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"We're stronger in the places that we've been broken."

-Ernest Hemingway

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America

"AMERICA!"

I flinched as my name vibrated off of the cold tile floors of our bedroom bathroom. I was on my knees, bent in front of the toilet, spewing up the contents of my stomach into the water below. I heaved another mouthful of champagne and fine wine into the toilet bowl, sat back on my heels, and wiped my mouth on my perfumed wrist.

The first thought that popped into my head was one that I was no stranger to hearing.

You're an idiot. You're royally messing everything up, like usual. You don't deserve him; you don't deserve any of this.

Maxon and I had gone through five years of marriage, and tonight we decided to celebrate our anniversary with a party in the Great Room--family and friends only. The party was simple, but beyond lovely. Thick white and gold cloths were draped across the windows and around the towering walls of the room, candlelit tables were decorated with vases of white and blush pink roses, and the men were in casual suits and the women in simple tea-length dresses. The music was soft and classical, something wonderful to dance slowly to, and the food was delicate but still mouthwatering. 

It felt not only like our anniversary, but a celebration of all the things we had done in the first five years of our reign. 

And I, the rotten apple of the government's eye, completely ruined it by getting sick. I think back to moments before, when everything began to fall apart.

Maxon and I were swaying to the twinkling of the piano keys and the plucking of the violinist's strings. It was when Maxon's firm hand on my lower back let go of its grip and he dropped me inches from the ground that my stomach started to churn. Maxon chuckled sweetly in my ear and brushed his lips against my cheekbone before standing me back upright, unaware that my head and stomach were swirling. The laughs and claps of those crowded around us scarcely reached my ears; I was too busy searching for the nearest bathroom. 

My anxious nerves got the best of me, and before I could remember that there was a bathroom next to the Women's Room just down the hall, I wriggled out of Maxon's grasp and made a mad dash for the stairs.

I faintly remembered him calling my name and trying to run after me, only to be stopped by my mom as she told him he looks so handsome and that we're such a beautiful couple. I ditched my heels at the foot of the marble stairs and raced barefooted up to our master bedroom, my dress hitched up to my knees to prevent me from tripping on the silver, chiffon skirt that floated to the ground gracefully from my hips.

And since that moment, I had been kneeling in front of the toilet on shaky legs, a burning fire in my throat from throwing up constantly for God knows how long. Weary from the dizziness, the nausea, and the embarrassment of running out of my own party, I stretched out my arm on the toilet seat and rested my cheek on my elbow crease. Maxon's furious poundings on the door reached my ears as soon as I closed my eyes to rest.

Great, I thought bitterly, I've ruined the party and my romantic night with Maxon. Could this get any worse?

"America? Are you alright, sweetheart?" He pushed a long sigh through his lips as he started knocking again and wiggling the doorknob. His voice grew fretful as he yanked on the doorknob, trying to break the lock. "America? It's Maxon. I just want to make sure you're alright."