The Exchange Student ➵ phan

Chapter 6

Groaning, I pull a pillow over my face, shivering though I'm covered in at least 17 gallons of sweat and swearing loudly as a flash of pain rushes through my head.

This is torturous, why am I sick my 7th day here? I've yet to explore any of town thanks to unpacking and scheduling my school classes taking up all of my time. All that none stop work leaves me exhausted each and every day before the sun can even descend under the horizon.

In the end I would say all that procrastination of emails and generally important projects was-in it's own twisted way- completely worth it, my room here looks better than my room at home by a long shot. I hung up at least 20 posters around my headboard, my awkward yet amazing idea of an accent wall, the room had came equipped with a bed, desk, and desk chair so it wasn't hard for me to set everything up alone.

About 2 days ago Phil found out I have a mild form of OCD, so now whenever I'm not in my room he sneaks in, pushing my bed off symmetrically and scattering all my files over the floor. Thankfully that's the worst he's done since the accident 3 nights ago, and I'm not taking that for granite. After the blond twins I've tried my hardest to avoid Phil, completely certain he was fuming and just waiting for the next thing to set him off.

I twist and turn, throwing my green and blue checkered blanket to the side. Than back on. Mr. Lester gave me this blanket a couple nights ago when my parents never sent my old covers. Both of them swearing up and down my sister stole them for her room, which is fine by me since I don't need them urgently. At first I had felt uncomfortable about borrowing Phil's blanket but Mr. Lester had insisted it was fine and that Phil uses a black and gray one instead.

I turn my head to the side, groaning instantly at the rush of pain. It was like my brain was a set of marbles running amok in my skull. Any slight movement sends nauseating pain through my head, forcing me back to my soft pillow. I tried getting my mind off it earlier with Tumblr but the tiny font and slight angle upwards I was forced to sit in had me tethering on the edge of throwing up.

My throat tightens at the thought of puking, causing me too shudder and swallow down the impending throw up building at a blindingly fast pace.

I really really hate being sick, always have, always will. The feeling of doing absolutely nothing because I physically can't happens to drive me bat shit crazy. I haven't even gotten around to getting my British driver's license and that's one of the only things I really need for the whole year.

Across from the bed, on the mahogany desk my desktop suddenly popped up with a Skype notification. I flip off the mattress, attempting to stand and walk over to my computer. I can send her a quick update before taking a nap. A nice, long nap will throw this sickness right off.

This time I can't swallow down the sudden rush of fluid fighting it's way up my throat. The world spins before my eyes and I swing my bedroom door open, barreling past Mrs. Lester in my haste to heave up almost all my stomach fluids. Uncontently I may add. There's only time to softly shut the door before I'm on my knees puking into the porcelain toilet.

After all my stomach has been emptied I spit out the gross after taste, gagging when I take even the smallest sniff, ready to throw up again just from the sight of my now full toilet basin."Fuck." I whimper to myself, crawling a few feet away from the terrible place and curling into a little ball on the floor.

"Dan? What's happened are you okay?" Mrs. Lester says urgently, knocking on the door to get my attention. I groan, not even trying to move in fear my head may explode if I do. The door handle jiggles, signaling Mrs. Lester's attempt to get in. She pushes it open only the smallest bit before hitting my spine. I whine as even more pain is thrust onto my body.