Ever So Slightly

I wake up groggily, but keep my eyes shut tight. The pulse that had been growing in my stomach last night has turned into a fully fledged heartbeat, threatening to break out of my gut. I can feel another dull pain there too, twisting my insides.

I thought a hangover was a headache? This feels like I’m going to die.

I dig around in my brain for my memories from last night, but after passing out on the patio, I can’t remember a thing.

I open my eyes slowly to find I’m in a relatively large room with soft blue walls, like eggshell - I haven’t seen this part of Marks house before.

Shit.

I must be in his moms bedroom.

SHIT. He’s going to go schizo.

I sit up quickly, instantly regretting it as my head spins - I can feel yesterday’s dinner coming up.

I hurl myself out of bed and over to the open window, throwing my guts up over the tiled roofing below. All I can hear is this dull ringing in my ears and the uneven ‘blat’ of my insides landing outside.

After a while there’s nothing left in my stomach, and I’m just dry wretching - occasionally choking up neon yellow bile, and feeling worse than ever.

I hear the door open and close softly behind me.

‘Mark! I’m so -wretch- sorry,’ I gush, stomach convulsing and my head still out of the window. ‘I don’t know how got in your -wretch- mom’s room - I was on your bed before and -wretch- and - and…I’ve been sick on your roof,’ I finish lamely.

I hear footsteps behind me but if I turn around I know I’ll puke all over the carpet. And he’ll be more mad at me for that. A pair of hands delicately scoop up my hair and hold it behind my head as I wretch.

‘Mark?’ I choke, confused slightly.

‘No, it’s William.’

I blink. William? So Mark doesn’t know?

Phew.

‘William! I have to get out. If Mark catches me in here then I’m soo dead. He said his mom’s room was off limits.’

‘Chill, ok? Mark’s not going to catch you. And…you’re not in his mom’s bedroom either.

‘I’m not? Then where am I?’

‘Um…don’t panic ok?’

Why is it, that whenever someone tells you not to panic, it only makes you panic more?

Even if you hadn’t been panicking in the first place.

‘William. Where am I?’ My voice is stern, with a definite undertone of worry.

He opens his mouth to speak, just as the door flies open.

‘Good morning America,’ yells Gabe, a pint of water in one fist and the other in the air. ‘And how is my favourite little drunk doing this morning?’ He winks.

My eyebrows knit together furiously. Worry is knotting in my stomach and he’s all in my face being so…so…obnoxious. Twit.

‘Where. AM. I?!’ I roar, temper getting the better of me.

Gabe raises his eyebrows and purses his lips, setting the water down on a side table.

‘Well someone’s obviously not a morning person. I’m going to leave this to you Bill,’ he said, walking over to the door.

William looks pretty angry too. ‘Gabe-’ he begins, but the door has already slammed shut.

‘William,’ I repeat bluntly. ‘Where am I?’

‘Don’t worry, it’s not far - it’s just, Gabe and I had to leave and that Mark guy was all drunk and on the prowl for, uh… some action and, we didn’t want to leave you alone.’ He sounds guilty.

‘But where am I?’

‘You could have been raped or some-’

‘William!’

‘You’re uh, in my hotel room.’

‘In Shrewsbury?’

‘Um…no.’

‘Ohh, Telford.’

‘Not exactly…we’re in Birmingham.’