Mort felt a little fuzzy when he woke up that morning, but it wasn't too bad. A vague feeling like he was half asleep lingered over him until a few hours later, when pain started.

It wasn't much at first. Just a small feeling of throbbing behind his eyes, and on the sides of his head. His mother Heather made him eggs and toast for breakfast, and he took an aspirin and moved on, wanting to focus on getting some writing done. He was behind as it was, and his deadline was fast approaching.

He did his best to work, trying to block everything else out, but the pain just grew more intense the longer he looked at his computer screen. By mid-morning, it was getting legitimately painful to continue, and he wasn't getting much done anyway, so he decided to take a break.

Mort made his way to his bedroom and laid down, hoping that resting his eyes might do him some good.

00

By noon, the pain was much worse. Any type of light intensified it. A slight feeling of nausea was starting to come about, too.

Mort groaned and clenched his eyes shut against the sunlight coming in through his bedroom window.

It didn't help much. He needed more medicine. Sighing, he forced himself up and out of the room.

00

"Are you okay?" Heather asked as Mort shuffled past her. She was busy making lunch in the kitchen and had noticed that he looked worse for the wear.

"Head hurts. Bad." Mort mumbled as he got himself a glass of water. "Need pills."

She noticed that he had two aspirin in his hand, which he placed on his tongue and swallowed.

"Oh no. Do you feel sick? You look pretty pale."

"Actively trying not to puke," Mort answered. It made him feel more nauseous to talk.

Heather frowned.

"I used to get migraines like that when I was younger. I bet you've got them too. Wish I had some of my old meds to give you. In the meantime, let's get you lying back down." She led him back to his room and tucked him in before closing the blinds. Considering how badly the migraine seemed to be impacting her son, she decided it was best to stay nearby.

00

Things took a sharp turn for the worse within the hour. The migraine had reached peak intensity, and Mort was literally crying from the pain of it.

"Mom, it hurts," he whimpered as he shoved his face into his pillow, desperately trying anything to make it stop. "It hurts so bad… Like being curb-stomped by an angry skinhead!"

Heather sighed. "I know it hurts, baby. I'll get you an ice pack, maybe that'll help."

"No!" He called after her. "Don't go. Don't wanna be alone." If he was going to die - and he really felt like he might, given the intensity of the pain - he wanted his mom there with him.

"Oh, honey." She whispered, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. She ran a hand through his hair, trying to comfort him. "I know it hurts. I wish I could take it away. It'll stop soon enough."

Mort let out a loud sob. He'd never felt anything like this before. It was a ten out of ten on the pain scale, easily.

And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, the nausea returned full force.

"Oh god," He gasped, sitting up. "Sick…"

Heather reacted quickly, helping Mort out of bed and leading him to the bathroom, where he promptly fell to his knees and began to vomit up everything he'd eaten that day, and possibly the previous day. The heaving and burning of it just made his head pound harder.

As the vomiting began to taper off, he felt something on his back. Heather was rubbing him, and was holding back his hair.

"You're alright," She said softly. "It'll be okay. Just get it all out."

Hearing this made Mort cry once again. He was still hurting. He just wanted it to stop.

"Mom, make it stop," He begged as he laid his head down on the toilet seat. "Hurts so bad…"

"Are you done being sick?" Heather asked.

"I think so…" Mort wrapped an arm around his stomach.

"Alright. I'll help you up."

Despite being smaller than her son, Heather was fairly strong and managed to help pull Mort to his feet. She allowed him to lean on her while she moved to flush the toilet, then supported him as they walked.

It took some effort to get Mort back into bed. He was basically dead weight, and was still upset. As she pulled the blankets up over him she sat and took his hand.

"Mort, getting upset is not going to help it. It's just going to make things worse. When I first started getting the migraines, I used to do deep breathing to calm myself until it passed. Want to try it together? It might help."

Mort sniffled. He supposed anything was worth a try.

"Okay," he replied, sniffling again.

"Okay." Heather held his hand a little tighter. "Let's take a deep breath and count to seven." She counted as Mort inhaled, then spoke again. "Hold it for 5… and exhale for seven."

Mort followed along, doing his best to focus on his breathing. It did help a little bit, and the extra air seemed to be making his migraine marginally less awful.

It was a few minutes before Mort began to feel less upset. He could feel his mom still sitting there, still holding his hand. He sighed as he felt her touch her other hand to his forehead and run her fingers through his hair.

"You're okay, Mort. Keep breathing like that. Eventually you'll fall asleep, and you'll feel better when you wake up."

"You won't go?" He asked.

"I'll stay right here." Heather promised.