XERTZ – (v) to gulp down quickly and greedily

Charlie watched Tyce from a distance with immense apprehension. He kept glancing in her direction, but neither of them attempted to advance. She wanted him to acknowledge her, to try to come closer to her and talk to her in that smitten broken-mouth way of his. Ever since…god, when was it? The last time they spoke, he gave her food and then walked away. It was so unlike the both of them, her for being so skeptical about the one person she could recall from her past, and him to be so kind and caring towards her.

Her stomach grumbled. Didn't she just eat something? But it wasn't the same. It wasn't from the Tank. He knew what she liked. Maybe he was looking for food. That was why she followed him, wasn't it? Because she was starving all over again, and she hated to feel this way, to feel like the fatass she was. GOD! Why the hell were the only things on her mind Tyce and food?! And the former usually had the latter as some point. DAMN! She stopped in her tracks and stared at herself. More like, what she could see. Her fingers were like giant Vienna sausages attached to a puff-pastry of a hand.

Her distended stomach just stared at her. She didn't know what her legs or feet looked like. Only when she walked did the fat shift and she peeked at her toes, even if it only lasted for a second. She chewed on her nails until they were ugly, ragged edges because she'll be damned if her mouth wasn't working for more than a few minutes. She stooped above a piece of broken glass and stared at her face.

Beady piggy eyes stared back at her with such hatred that she glared, and that angry, ugly visage turned into such a distorted look, she could have been in the horror film industry. A single tear slithered down her face in a race along the rolls of her face before she dropped to her knees and vomited violently on that mirroring surface. After the initial burst, as her stomach churned up more bile, she shoved her fingers as far down her gullet as she could and held it until she puked again, more pain stabbing at her. And she repeated the pattern until she dry-heaved, tears running down her face.

A large shadow covered her and a grunt of worry found her ears, but she just shook her head and continued to cry, curling beside her mess. The engine of an overhead plane calmed her. Maybe they were going to kill everything. Maybe she could finally end her inner turmoil. She closed her eyes as another wave of nausea slammed into her, although she had nothing left within her to relinquish. She didn't feel anything other than the cold that emanated from her body. She closed her eyes and faded from the hell surrounding her, unaware of the presence protecting her.

Charlie woke up in an awkward, but relaxed manner, body splayed out atop something unfamiliar, but not unwanted. She blinked away the harsh glare of light and yawned, rubbing at her eyes with a balled fist. Her voice was gone to her, but for once, her stomach was at ease. She looked at everything but saw nothing as her brain replayed the events that led to her misplacement.

A noise stopped her train of thought and she started up, painfully aware of just how unsettled her stomach still was. It folded upon itself and crunched, causing her to hunch forward. A soft grunt caught her attention and she lifted her head to see Tyce holding a bowl and a box. The box had pictures of saltine crackers on it, and she was sure they were stale, but the gesture warned her heart. She took it and the bowl full of surprisingly clean water into her possession. She munched on half of the crackers, which automatically soothed her insides, and the entire bowl of water chased down the dry food.

With a sigh, she placed them off to the side and rolled over to get more sleep. It was then she noticed everything smelled of the Tank, and it lulled her back into REM with ease.