>I cough and sputter. My head pounds, body aches and world swirls. I'm not just sick. I'm horrendously sick. I struggle to get up out of bed. I'm soaked in sweat and need to-
>The smell hits me and make me gag. Oh god did I-?
>A quick check reveals I have indeed. What am I, Five? I grit my teeth at this. Gotta clean up after myself along with dealing with this. I glance over to my clock to check the time. Four am.
>I retch and stand, almost teetering over as my legs refuse my commands. I stumble forward and catch on the wall. First thing's first I get out of these clothes, balling them up in my hand. I poke my head out my door and stumble down the hall into the bathroom. I chuck the stuff in the corner and feel it come up. I thankfully manage it to the toilet before hand. Acidic.
>I flush and spit a few times, still feeling the rocks hit my body. I almost fall right into the bathtub and run the hot water over my body. I feel the relaxation hit quickly. The warm comfort soothing my aching body and cleansing the filth.
>I hear a quick tap on the door. "Greene?" It's dad.
>"Yeah?" I call out, my voice hoarse and rough. It's clear I'm sick as a dog.
>"You okay?" I swallow. I most certainly am not.
>"I'm sick."
>"I can tell. You need anything?" I hesitate. Do I tell him? I'm not a goddamned child. I bite my tongue. It seems I've been thinking long enough to carry worry as he opens the door.
>There he stands in his pajama pants and tank. I look down.
>"Greene?"
>I choke up as he approaches.
>"It's okay." He leans down and strokes my head. I feel tears coming on.
>"I...I soiled the bed." I shut my eyes hard. I feel tears starting to stream out of them. I'm goddamn pathetic. I expect a lecture, a hiss of disappointment. I get nothing but another head stroke and gentle speech.
cont