t w e n t y - n i n e

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Vomiting makes me feel better until I feel like puking even more and my organs ache from all the pushing.

I cannot stop puking no matter how much I try.

I see his silhouette and scream that I'm not doing this on purpose but even that doesn't stop the vomiting.

I feel one of his hand gripping my hair out of my sight while the other rubs my back.

I hover all over the toilet and I cannot stop the urge to puke out even the first bite.

I hear him talking to the staff for a brief moment and I hate every single atom that makes the universe what it is right now.

"Can you leave?" I say before feeling that watery taste of sickness that accompanies the urge to puke. "Please." I gulp it back.

This is already way too embarrassing for me, him watching it with his eyes makes it even worse.

He flushes the toilet.

After saying that, I keep gagging like I want to vomit but I cannot get myself to get anything out of my body.

He tells me to get out of the place or I'll keep gagging and gives me some paper to wipe out my mouth.

That's it. This is it all.

I don't want a single second from the future.

Here, I want to end it here.

I gargle with the mouthwash and I hate this universe including Azaan.

I wonder if he'll talk about this or make me drink some stupid soup.

"Do you feel—"

"—I do feel better Azaan." I groan while my head spins and I almost fall on the floor.

"I can see that." He takes me into his arms and I instantly feel all conscious for five seconds and tell him to put me down but the indifference on his face makes me feel like I'm saying this in my dream and I pray for this whole dinner to have been a nightmare because I hated every second of it.

My hot head feels better on the cold pillow. I see blurry pieces of Azaan walking out of the room and I pull a pillow to myself and snuggle to sleep.

Morning comes very late. I feel like I have slept for more than ten hours.

I look at the clock and I probably have because I don't remember when we got out of there but it's apparently five in the morning.

I pull the blanket up.

If his elbow was a little more angled, it would be poking my ribs.

I close my eyes and put a hand above his, feeling the warmth I hadn't been able to feel during those awful few months of his ignorance towards me.

I never want that. I never want to go back to that time.

I'd turn around to face him but his hand stiffens with the smallest of my movement.

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