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My alarm clock beeped, beep beep beep, at 6 o'clock that morning. I moaned and leaned across to my bed table, hitting the off button. I sat up, and my head started to spin. God, I thought. I felt a rising in my throat, my stomach clench and burn, and I had to run for the bathroom.
I opened my mouth and let the content spill into the toilet. Oh, god. I thought again. I stood there for a second, waiting to see if I would throw up again. I did once more, then slid down the bathroom wall. My stomach was turning, burning and throbbing. My head hurt, and my throat felt raw. My eyes were stinging because when I threw up, I cried automatically. I closed them, counting to ten.
I stood back up, which made me vomit once more. Then I turned on the shower, thinking of absolutely anything to make me feel better. I stripped off my clothes, then stepped into the steam of the shower. I took deep breaths, instantly making my throat feel better.
Once I was done, I wrapped my hair in a towel, put on my bathrobe, and walked slowly downstairs.
"Mom?" I called quietly.
"In here, baby." She called back. I walked into the kitchen where she sat sipping her coffee, dressed in a suit. "Oh baby, you don't look so good."
"Thanks." I said sarcastically. "I don't feel so good." I pouted.
She set her coffee down on the kitchen table, walked over to me, and put her palm on my forehead. "Oh sweetie, you're burning up." She walked over to a cupboard, pulled out a settle and put water in it to boil. Then, she walked over to the phone and started to dial. "Yes, this is Susan Martin. Yes, my daughter Lydia won't be there today, she's sick and needs to get better. Of course not. Okay, thank you. Goodbye." She looked up and smiled at me. "There you go, taken care of."
"Thanks." I took the towel off my hair, patted off the exess water, and held the towel in my hands.
"Okay, so, drink some tea, take these pills -" she took my hand and dropped two orange pills into my palm. "- and get lots of rest. There's orange juice in the fridge." She kissed my forehead. "I have to go, I have a big meeting. Call me if you need anything," she smiled, then walked out of the room. "Bye baby!" She called, then I heard the front door close.
I sighed, walked over to the cupboard and got a glass out. Then I poured myself some water and took the pills she gave me.
I trudged upstairs, pulling my robe off as I made my way to my room. I hung the towel on the door, and hung my robe up on the hook inside my room. Just as I sat down on my bed, I felt the room spin one more. Fuck. Those pills did not stay down for long.
When I was done, I changed into big flannel pajama pants, and a tank top. I put my hair ontop of my head, away from my face and crawled into bed. I sighed and turned over - slowly, as it seemed too fast of movements was the trigger to throw up - and turned on my xbox. I flicked through the Netflix new releases.
Some while later, I woke up, the tv screen black. I sat up, forgetting the 'trigger' and had to run to the bathroom once again.
Afterwards, I pouted, feeling sorry for myself, as I made my way downstairs. "Hello?" I called groggily.
Taped to the kitchen counter was a note from my parents.
Baby,
You were asleep when we got home, so we didn't want to wake you. We went out with the Kenzingtons, so we'll be out for a while. Hope you feel better soon,
Love you,
Mom and Dad.
Great, I thought. I didn't get sick very often, but when I did, all I wanted was a little more attention and some taking care of. But I couldn't even get that.
I walked over to the cupboard and took some more pills, drank a glass of water, and sat down at the kitchen table. I pulled out my phone and checked my messages.
Hey girl, where are you today? Read one from Allison.
Hey you! said one from a girl named Holly.
and lastly, Lyd I'm sick come take care of me! from Stiles.
I scoffed at the last one. Bullshit, I thought. He was just pulling my leg. So I answered him back, saying: Liar. I'm the one who's sick. You take care of me.
I sent it, then got up from the table and made myself some tea. A couple minutes later, my phone went off. I'm sick too, it read. Come over. We'll be sick together.
I finished my tea, walked to the living room, and put a blanket around my shoulders. Then I grabbed the keys to the car made my way to Stiles' house.
I knocked on the door, hugging my blanket closer around my chest. I felt like a little popsicle, all wrapped up.
Stiles answered the door in the same fashion. He had a brown blanket wrapped around his shoulder and a raw red nose.
"See?" Stiles said. "I told you I was sick." He said stuffily. He moved to the side so I could come inside.
"'Me, too." I whispered, my throat now raw. "Wheres your Dad?"
Stiles shook his head. "Not home." He said. He sounded very plugged up. "Nobody to take care of me." He pouted.
"Nobody to take care of me, either." I whispered. We made our way up the stairs to his room. "Did you stay home today?"
Stiles nodded, opening the door to his room.
"Hey," I muffled. "I brought the Notebook." I laughed as I took it out of my purse, under the blanket.
"You know.. usually, I would put up a fight. But right now, I don't even care."
"Good," I laughed. I handed it to him so he could put it in the player, and I made myself at home on his bed.
When he sat down, he was slightly propped up on his pillows. "Don't get any ideas." I murmurred as I put my head on his chest. I made myself quite comfortable, both of us with our seperate blankets, cuddling as we watched the Notebook.
We fell asleep, and slept like that for hours. I had a dreamless sleep, but it was nice.
When I woke up, I had to run for his bathroom.
But, as I threw up, Stiles was there. And he held my hair for me.