Chapter twenty-five

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My eyes squinted open and I let my eyes wonder around the room, let myself remember where I was.

My face was freezing at the slight draft from the corner of the window as the night air flowing through it washed over me.

The coldness of my face drowned out almost all of the other feeling around my body, but then I felt the warmer side of me, that was transferring warmth with another. My memories of last night flooded back as I realised that it was Azaels body pressed firmly to my back, and Azael's arms wrapped tightly around my waist.

I sighed, it was still the early hours of the morning, and seconds after awakening I knew the reason I woke up, it was due to the vomit sitting at the bottom of my throat, waiting to erupt out of me.

The negatives of drinking alcohol.

The cold air pulled goosebumps out of my skin as I lifted the thick, comfortable, warm, sheets from my arm. Next, I picked my arms up and gently, moved Azael's arm from around me.

Sweat built on my brow from the swirling liquid in my stomach, so, quickly, I slid from my bed.

Azael's top was big on me, but not big enough to cover my underwear, but I couldn't give a shit, because the vomit brewing in my stomach was better off coming out into a toilet then on a cold concrete floor in front of Azael, and rummaging through the cracked set of draws sat on the opposite side of the room for extra clothing to wear was definitely going to make me puke on the floor.

So I hurried to the bathroom. I noticed where it was when Azael led us to the bedroom a few hours ago, it was right opposite to the door of our room in a separate hall to the rest of the house.

I flipped the light switch on without thinking, lifted the toilet seat up, and fell to my knees.

And then I hauled my guts up.

Besides the deadly headache, throwing up was one of the worst downsides to drinking.

But I couldn't help myself. Because when my mind wondered to fucked up places and the promise of taking those thoughts away for just a few hours, for just a few moments, became an option, I took it.

That's what I did. I ran away from my problems, I pushed them down, drowned them, ignored them. Instead of getting rid of them because it was easier to pretend they weren't there then to recognises that they were.

Sometimes it hurt less to not deal with them, and sometimes was enough.

The thick, hot, burning liquid of the vomit eventually stopped exiting my mouth. I released my strong grip on either side of the toilet seat and fell back against the white marbled draws.

I didn't think as I rolled my sleeves up to dry off the sweat. I wiped at my mouth with a piece or two of ripped off toilet paper and threw it in the toilet.

That was normally the part where I sat there for hours, eventually drifting off to sleep on the bathroom floor and then repeating it the next night.

But I didn't that time, instead, I went to get up-

I spun quickly back to the toilet when a hot substance rose up my throat. I gaged it out. Wishing I had a god damn hair tie on my wrist so I didn't have to hold my hair back with one hand.

The vomit kept coming and my eyes watered.

I was about to give up on my hair when a hand wrapped around my hair for me, and then another.
He held my hair back when I threw up.

And I knew it was Azael who did that because I could feel the cold bite of his rings, gently resting against my ear.

I wasn't even surprised that he had followed me into the bathroom.

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