Chapter 10
Bosco finished rinsing off then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
He walked into his bedroom and started rummaging through his drawers for some clean sweats and a tee shirt, when he noticed what looked like a purple bruise near his stomach.
"What the hell is that?" he thought to himself.
Bosco went back into the bathroom and took his towel off to get a better look.
In the light of the bathroom it looked somewhat to Bosco like a bruise forming, yet it was all splotchy and uneven.
Bos tried to think when he could have gotten hit there hard enough to leave a bruise.
The guy he had chased into the alley earlier that night hadn't laid a hand on him, and he hadn't gotten into any other altercations or situations that required excessive force recently.
He touched his stomach with his hands, lightly pressing to see if it hurt.
It didn't.
Bosco stood in the bathroom buck naked and shivering staring at his stomach, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to him.
He walked back into his room and put his clean clothes on.
The headaches, the getting sick, the being so tired all the time, and now this...
Something was going on, he couldn't deny it any longer.
Well, until it interfered with his life to the point of not being able to function that is just what Bosco was gonna do.
He glanced at the clock.
310AM.
Way to late to be stuck worrying about this all night.
Bos got back into bed and prayed for the next 6 hours to be nothing but peaceful slumber.
His prayers would go unanswered.
At about 430 AM Bosco woke from sleep again.
He had sweat pouring down his back and neck.
His breathing was labored and short, just like when he was having a panic attack.
A panic attack?
Some of the signs were there, except Bosco hadn't had an attack in close to a year, and there was no real reason for him to be suffering from one now.
"This cant be happening," he thought.
Bosco took a few deep breaths.
There were no horrifying, vivid flashbacks, and there was no feeling like the world was crashing in around him.
Really the only similarities were the erratic breathing and the sweating, so there had to be something else going on.
But what?
Bosco felt sick to his stomach.
"If I am even getting the damn flu," he thought.
His stomach churned and Bosco thought he was going to get sick again.
He went into the bathroom, kneeled down in front of the toilet and heaved.
There was nothing.
Of course, he had been so sick earlier and all he had eaten that day was half a bagel; there was surely nothing in his stomach now.
Bosco sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom.
He leaned his head back and groaned.
He felt extremely weak.
He had no energy left.
He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this bad.
He knew that he had to try and eat something to get energy for work later, or else he wouldn't be able to function on the job.
Bos stood up to go into the kitchen and try and eat something.
He made it as far as his bed.
Bosco finished rinsing off then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
He walked into his bedroom and started rummaging through his drawers for some clean sweats and a tee shirt, when he noticed what looked like a purple bruise near his stomach.
"What the hell is that?" he thought to himself.
Bosco went back into the bathroom and took his towel off to get a better look.
In the light of the bathroom it looked somewhat to Bosco like a bruise forming, yet it was all splotchy and uneven.
Bos tried to think when he could have gotten hit there hard enough to leave a bruise.
The guy he had chased into the alley earlier that night hadn't laid a hand on him, and he hadn't gotten into any other altercations or situations that required excessive force recently.
He touched his stomach with his hands, lightly pressing to see if it hurt.
It didn't.
Bosco stood in the bathroom buck naked and shivering staring at his stomach, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to him.
He walked back into his room and put his clean clothes on.
The headaches, the getting sick, the being so tired all the time, and now this...
Something was going on, he couldn't deny it any longer.
Well, until it interfered with his life to the point of not being able to function that is just what Bosco was gonna do.
He glanced at the clock.
310AM.
Way to late to be stuck worrying about this all night.
Bos got back into bed and prayed for the next 6 hours to be nothing but peaceful slumber.
His prayers would go unanswered.
At about 430 AM Bosco woke from sleep again.
He had sweat pouring down his back and neck.
His breathing was labored and short, just like when he was having a panic attack.
A panic attack?
Some of the signs were there, except Bosco hadn't had an attack in close to a year, and there was no real reason for him to be suffering from one now.
"This cant be happening," he thought.
Bosco took a few deep breaths.
There were no horrifying, vivid flashbacks, and there was no feeling like the world was crashing in around him.
Really the only similarities were the erratic breathing and the sweating, so there had to be something else going on.
But what?
Bosco felt sick to his stomach.
"If I am even getting the damn flu," he thought.
His stomach churned and Bosco thought he was going to get sick again.
He went into the bathroom, kneeled down in front of the toilet and heaved.
There was nothing.
Of course, he had been so sick earlier and all he had eaten that day was half a bagel; there was surely nothing in his stomach now.
Bosco sat on the cold tile floor of the bathroom.
He leaned his head back and groaned.
He felt extremely weak.
He had no energy left.
He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this bad.
He knew that he had to try and eat something to get energy for work later, or else he wouldn't be able to function on the job.
Bos stood up to go into the kitchen and try and eat something.
He made it as far as his bed.