Chapter thirty-one

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It was 3 am and I felt like shit.

My insides were twisting around each other and the feeling of vomit in my throat never went away. I simply groaned and curled into a ball in the middle of my bed.

My father had taken us to dinner that night, some posh restaurant an hour or two away from where we lived. And I'd definitely eaten some fucked up food.

It was a sea food restaurant and my father had convinced Elliot and I to try octopus, it was safe to say we both wouldn't be eating it again. The taste was mediocre but the chewy ness and rubbery-ness was enough to make me almost gag.

Elliot had been acting weird all day and I had tried talking to him but he wouldn't tell me anything, he'd flash his teeth in a smile, attempting to make my worry subside but it only made it worse.

There wasn't anything physical wrong that I knew of, so that meant something must have been said to him.

And if it my fucking father or my mother or both said something to upset him I would kick them out of the house for a week; parents or not, they could fend for themselves.

I couldn't think of many things which would affect Elliot that much, which made me even more fucking confused and angry. Maybe he'd tell me tomorrow. If I could get out of my fucking room without throwing up.

I slid from my bed, stumbling to the toilet where I then pulled the sick from my throat. Much better.

I slumped to the wall next to it, wiping the hair stuck to my forehead.

Pulling my phone from my pocket I read the numerous messages Lyssa had sent to me. Most of them consisted of her telling me shit was boring when I wasn't there and that Azael was being more intolerable then usual and that they needed me there to tell him to grow the fuck up.

I scrolled to the bottom of the messages and replied to her. Only almost a day late.

Damn. Miss me that much?

It took her seconds to reply, the fuck was she doing it up? Were we both puking out our organs out at 3 in the morning? Aw.

Yes. Please come in tomorrow.

Yeah, sure. Only if you want me to be sick all over you tho.

You're sick?

That's what I said. Good luck tomorrow tho. I bet it's miserable.

Want me to skip and I'll look after you?

What, you gonna cook me soup or some shit?

Fuck off I was being nice, you should try it.

Yeah, yeah. Anyway, don't come, I'll be fine.

She didn't respond after that so I took it as my queue to bend back over the toilet and continue throwing my guts up.

I deserved a nice, hot bath once I felt better.


I was curled back up in bed, my forehead slick with sweat with only 20 minutes of sleep.

My head was also pounding, which didn't help, so when I would lie awake I'd spend majority of my time massaging my temples. It didn't do shit.

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