It's You: Book Two

Chapter Nine

I sit on the floor of Walmart's bathroom, my elbows against the nasty toilet bowl, my hands against my forehead.

I have a raging headache, I've been throwing up on and off for ten minutes, my breasts are aching, my stomach is cramping lightly, and I'm so, so tired.

I've been gone for about four hours, trying to get things for the house.

We have physical items like furniture and clothing, but we don't have cleaning supplies or food, and it takes a long time to go through a whole list of everything we need.

But I forgot.

When I was pregnant with Declan, I took somebody's shift at my old job and ended up working twelve hours. By hour six, I was in the bathroom throwing up on and off for an hour.

I did this last time, where I pushed myself too hard, and now me and my baby are paying for it.

Just the thought of going through the check out lane and driving makes me want to cry.

The back of my mind tells me that I'm fine, that I can do it, but I also realize that I don't have to.

One word to Aiden and he would be here.

He would be upset if I didn't reach out.

With a shaky hand, I grab my phone from my purse. I have a few messages from him asking me if I'm doing okay and when I'm coming home.

I want to call him, but I feel like I might get sick again, so I decide to text him.

Me: are you busy

I start throwing up again, and I feel like I'm about to start crying. I'm so tired. I want to lie down.

After I finish gagging, I check my phone.

Aiden: not if you need something. You've been gone for a while

Me: youre going to get mad

Aiden: why

Me: I've been throwing up for 30 minutes and im so tired and I'm cramping (it's normal to be cramping a little this early) and I have a headache and my boobs hurt so bad

Aiden: I'm coming to pick you up

Me: ok

I force myself to my feet and flush the toilet, splashing some water on my face.

I dry it, wincing at how pale I look.

Nervous, I pull down my pants to check for blood, but I don't see any, so I grab my purse and head out of the bathroom, forcing myself to walk to the register.

The cashier looks concerned as I load up the conveyor belt. I move to stand by the credit card machine, my elbow on the bar with my hand on my forehead, my head pounding as the beeping of everything being scanned and the lights and the voices and the music overwhelm me, making me fight the urge to cry as my headache worsens until I can feel my heartbeat in my forehead.

"Are you okay?" The cashier asks me as he scans the last item

"Yeah." I lie. I stuff my card in the machine and punch in my pin number. It beeps loudly at me so I pull out my card and put it back in my wallet, taking the receipt from her hand, mumbling a quiet thank you as I push the card outside.

I sit down on a bench out front of the store and bury my head in my hands, shutting my eyes. A car alarm is going off. I can hear people talking as they walk out of the store, carts rolling loudly against the concrete, very annoying motorcycle engines from the street.