Take It With Me
Back In The Good Old World
Back at the hotel, Kitty was feverishly washing out her clothes from the night before. Her hangover hadn’t seemed to have set in yet, she wanted to get a few things done, since she could feel nausea looming on the horizon.
“I need to get everything done before I’m stranded her, sick, in a strange place, with a strange man, and—”
Kitty stopped, starting to cry again. The bar of soap that she was holding slipped out of her hands, and she slumped over the edge of the tub, sobbing into the dirty water. All Kitty wanted was to go home. She wanted her bed, she wanted her Mama, she wanted her Daddy, she wanted her Abuela and her toothbrush and her dog. She wanted to know how she got here. It was what bothered her most, not knowing how she got here. Kitty was, above all, a scientific person. Science had answers. Science gave reasons. Science was able to explain almost anything. Except this. Through her clouded mind, thoughts of wormholes and space time continuums and her physic professor’s lectures swirled, taunting her. Nothing about being here made sense. Nothing about being here was physically possible. And that scared her. The only explanation was something supernatural. Laughing shortly, she shook her head, half expecting to see Bella Swan or Buffy Summers or Angel or Spike. Things like this only happened in storybooks, in fiction, in teenage novels or tacky television shows.
“Oh, God.”
The iron grip of sickness shook her out of her thoughts and made her launch towards the toilet, where she vomited up every trace of the night before. Shuddering, she stayed still for a moment, then flushed every trace of evidence and rinsed her mouth out in the sink, standing on shaky lefts. Her vision was blurred by tears and the blue and green flowers on the wallpaper spun around, swirling into something not quite recognizable.
“I think I’ll just lay down,” Kitty whispered. “The clothes need to soak anyways.”
Carefully, she lowered herself onto the tile, sighing as it pressed against her cheek, all cool and comforting. She closed her eyes, listening to the thrum of traffic outside and the steady rhythm of the AC unit.
She was dead asleep when Tom walked in.
“I need to get everything done before I’m stranded her, sick, in a strange place, with a strange man, and—”
Kitty stopped, starting to cry again. The bar of soap that she was holding slipped out of her hands, and she slumped over the edge of the tub, sobbing into the dirty water. All Kitty wanted was to go home. She wanted her bed, she wanted her Mama, she wanted her Daddy, she wanted her Abuela and her toothbrush and her dog. She wanted to know how she got here. It was what bothered her most, not knowing how she got here. Kitty was, above all, a scientific person. Science had answers. Science gave reasons. Science was able to explain almost anything. Except this. Through her clouded mind, thoughts of wormholes and space time continuums and her physic professor’s lectures swirled, taunting her. Nothing about being here made sense. Nothing about being here was physically possible. And that scared her. The only explanation was something supernatural. Laughing shortly, she shook her head, half expecting to see Bella Swan or Buffy Summers or Angel or Spike. Things like this only happened in storybooks, in fiction, in teenage novels or tacky television shows.
“Oh, God.”
The iron grip of sickness shook her out of her thoughts and made her launch towards the toilet, where she vomited up every trace of the night before. Shuddering, she stayed still for a moment, then flushed every trace of evidence and rinsed her mouth out in the sink, standing on shaky lefts. Her vision was blurred by tears and the blue and green flowers on the wallpaper spun around, swirling into something not quite recognizable.
“I think I’ll just lay down,” Kitty whispered. “The clothes need to soak anyways.”
Carefully, she lowered herself onto the tile, sighing as it pressed against her cheek, all cool and comforting. She closed her eyes, listening to the thrum of traffic outside and the steady rhythm of the AC unit.
She was dead asleep when Tom walked in.