I fling upwards and my hand crunch down onto the blanket, my nails rip through the blanket and dig into the palms of my hands. The coarse flow of sickness spreads up from my stomach to the back of my throat. My head begins to beat and pulse at the same beat of my heart as the adrenaline rushes with the vomit tickling the back of my throat. I run my hands across my wrists and my neck. Nothing. I release a slow long breath. I stare forward at the closet, the rising sun burns into the open hells cape at the end of my bed. I turn and check the clock, it's 4am and still the vomit tickles the back of my throat.
I grab my phone to check if anyone's needed me for the night. My face scrunched up at the blank screen. I sigh and turn, I clamp the phone and pull my arm back then launch it into the closet door. I fall back against the headboard, my neck goes limp as my head drops down. The vomit in the back killing my throat keeps me on edge. The bags under my eyes seem to weigh my head down as I attempt to lift it up. With the smallest amount of victory in my pocket I manage to bring myself to land upon my feet. I slowly drag my feet across the floor to eventually arrive at the bathroom. My feet lose the strength I had left as I turn and the vomit catches up with me. My lips spread and the projectile I've been suppressing finally becomes too strong. It bursts from my mouth, in a long string of liquid hatred bubbling from my stomach. Eventually it ends and I'm left with a disgusting taste in my mouth. I stare down at the mess I've created, turn on the tap and wash it was down.
