Crashed(book three)

The cramps in my stomach wake me up.

I lie in the pitch black, moonless night as the little, continuous stabs of pain combined with the sweat coating my skin, and the dizziness in my head, tell me I need to get to the bathroom quickly before I throw up. I slide out of Colton’s loosened grip on me, trying to be quick but also trying not to disturb him. He mumbles something softly, and I still momentarily before he rolls onto his back and quiets down.

My head’s fuzzy as I stand, and I’m super groggy from the pain medication. Talk about feeling like I’m walking through water. I laugh because the floor even feels kind of wet and I know it’s just my drug laden brain. I run my hand along the wall to help steady myself and guide me through the dark room so I don’t accidentally bump something and wake up Colton.

My God, I’m going to be sick! I feel the huge rugs covering the bathroom floor beneath my feet and almost moan out in pain mixed with relief knowing the toilet is so close. I slip some as I hit the tile and curse Baxter and the damn water bowl he always drips from. I shut the bathroom door and flick on the light, the sudden brightness hurting my eyes so I squeeze them shut as the dizziness hits me at full force. I bend over, hand on the toilet rim, stomach tensing and ready to puke, but all I feel is the room spinning. My stomach revolts, the dry heave hitting me over and over. My stomach is tensing so forcefully I feel wetness run down my legs.

And I start laughing, feeling so pathetic that I’m puking so hard I’ve just peed myself, but my mind is so sluggish, so slow to piece my thoughts together that instead of figuring out what to do next, I sink down on my knees. I slide on the slick marbled floor coated with urine, but my stomach hurts so badly and my head’s so dizzy I don’t really care. All I can think of is how pathetic I must look right now. How there is no way in hell I’m going to call Colton for help.

And I’m so tired—so sleepy—and afraid I’m going to throw up again, I decide to lay my head atop my hands on the rim of the toilet and just rest my eyes for a minute.

My head starts to slide off of the toilet, and I don’t know how much time has passed but the falling motion jerks me awake. I’m immediately assaulted with such a wave of heat through my body followed up by an absolute chill that I force myself to stop a minute and take a deep breath.

Something’s not right.

I feel it immediately, even though my mind is trying to snap my thoughts together, line them up so that they’re coherent. And I just can’t. Nothing’s making sense to me. My head is heavy and my arms feel like a million pounds. I try to call out to Colton for help, not caring anymore if I’ll be embarrassed about sitting in a pool of piss. Something’s just not right. I put my hand on the wainscot to help support myself so I can stand up and open the door so he’ll hear me call his name, but my hand slips. And when I can open my eyes, when I can focus, my handprint is smeared in blood down the wall.

Hmm.

I kind of laugh as delirium takes over. As I look down to see that I’m not sitting in urine.

No.

But why is the floor covered in blood?

“Colton!” I call, but I’m so weak I know my voice isn’t loud enough.

I’m floating and it’s so warm and I’m so tired. I close my eyes and smile because I see Colton’s face.

So handsome.

All mine.

I feel sleep start to pull on me—my mind, my body, my soul—and I let its lethargic fingers begin to win the tug-of-war.

And right before it takes me, I understand the why, but not the how.

Oh, Colton.

I’m sorry, Colton.

Darkness threatens to pull me under its clutches.

Please don’t hate me.

I have nothing left to resist its smothering blackness.

I love you.

Spiderman. Batm—