39: EDIBLE

I’m vomitting.

That’s not even the wild part. Listen to this.

I’m vomitting, and William Ravenstone is holding a large bowl under my face. I can smell the pungent, acidic odor of whatever I’m throwing up, like rotten cheese. I throw up more. His wrist is holding up my limp head, my hair gathered in his fist.

“This is gross…” I groan in-between heaves. “It’s so- I’m so-”

“Shh,” he replies, and I fall back into slumber, shuddering and gasping while he wipes my face with something cold and damp.

Time passes.

I think time passes, although I have no sense of it.

The clock says 3:05 A.M when I sit upright again. A wet compress falls into my lap. I glance over and jerk in surprise at the weight on the bed next to me.

“How are you feeling?” William asks, shifting a chess piece on the chessboard in his lap. He’s sitting against the headboard, lit up only by the glow of the lamp next to him on the nightstand. I notice a stack of medications arranged there neatly too. My gaze moves back to the c