At precisely 6:15, Cameron's alarm clock began blaring in her ear, jolting her awake. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains, the glare blinding her. She was exhausted and felt like crap. What the hell happened last night? She wondered, having no recollection of the night before. She felt almost as bad as she had the morning after taking meth. Dragging herself out of bed, Cameron moved to the cushioned chair placed in the corner. Picking up her jeans, a crumpled paper fell to the ground. But it went unnoticed, and she continued to throw the mislaid clothes in her hamper.
Heading towards the bathroom door, she felt her eyes droop. God she was lethargic. So much so that she was tempted to call in sick to work. As if House would believe me. She thought to herself. And it was true; Cameron had been known to come in for work no matter how she was feeling.
Stepping through the shower's door, she turned the clear knob placed on the tiled wall. Torrid water ran through the pipes, the heat turning her skin a pink color. The steam was refreshing in a way – it made her feel alive. Knowing the water would soon turn chilly she cut her shower short and grabbed the pale yellow towel hanging on the rack. After wrapping it around her waist, she grabbed a smaller white towel and wrapped it around her head, keeping her dripping auburn curls from tickling her back.
Making her way towards the closet, she stepped on something that felt exceedingly creased. Lifting her right foot she discovered the now damp paper. Slowly unfolding it, events of the evening before slowly arose, as did the anxiety. Reminiscences of the blood test and its results resurfaced. Soon after Cameron found herself bending over the toilet bowl. Her delicate body trembled with every heave.
Finally regaining her strength Cameron stood, letting the sink support her weight. Wiping off her mouth she began searching for mouthwash to take the revolting flavor off her lips. Simply searching for something kept her mind off of reality, which was fine with her. After quickly rinsing her mouth she recapped the squat bottle.
Looking up, she saw her reflection in the mirror; her fair skin was much pastier than usual, and her eyes were sunken and flecked with grief. She couldn't go to work like this. And yet she still did. After staring at her mirror image, Cameron splashed her face with cool water. She precariously grabbed fresh clothes from her dresser and walked into the kitchen. When she opened the fridge, the nausea from before started to return. Slamming the door shut, she ran outside to get some fresh air. Inside was a living hell. She took a deep breath before throwing up over the railing.