Watch Your Step

HUNGOVER [ep. 3]

It's awful—all over again. I'm back inside my room, and once more, I can't remember how I got here. And what happened at the dining table was just like a distant dream. There's still the blotch on my bed, except it's drier and richly embedded on the cerulean sheet. An orange tinge of the sun passes through my windows; it must be setting. I limply raise my arms to make sure I can still move it. I felt weak, like sticks, bending to break. 

Notwithstanding, another rush of tempting to vomit arrives. Despite my overpowering exhaustion and the sickening hunger aggrieved, I walk briskly to the bathroom to prevent myself from spilling what's in my mouth. My head launches like a projectile to the toilet and I let a usurping release of my slimy innards. Jokingly. But this time, it's real. My throat itched as if there's a giant hairball in it. I scratch and rasp my neck until I cough blood.

Something's crawling, in the middle of my chest. Writhing terrifyingly but I can't do anything but wait. Then it struck me. Maybe it's just the scarlet soup Tommy made me eat. Cringing, I burp a strong taste of fishy residue and instinctively place my mouth above the bowl. Something comes out and falls into the same ominous black puddle I've been contemplating all morning. I laid my back against the wall and still held onto my chest as I sputter drops of blood all over the tiled floor. Wondering—is this supposed to happen? I hear the same gurgling noise in the loo and this time I have the urge to check what it is. I support myself erect on the toilet seat and my stomach becomes exquisitely painful.

When I finally managed to steal a view of what's inside the bowl, I was horrified. Pieces of pink meat like kidneys, pig hearts with purple veins, and meandering intestines plug the black water. Is that my organs? Am I going to die? —are the questions circling inside my head? With an obnoxious panic, I stretch my hand to flush it. I reach for the button and press it as many times as I can. And all at once, water starts cascading all over the bowl, filling it full. The bloody organs mixed with the black water start to swirl like raw mutton in a hot pot. 

The entrails that look as revolting as they can be are like large fat worms spinning on the murky water until it overflows. For a second, I am petrified as if my insides (if there's anything left) are frozen when they appear to change shape. But all the heat comes rushing through my body when it starts to move as if trying to merge into a bigger chunk of meat!

Is it ALIVE?

Hairs? No, fur! It starts pulsating—I think I know what it is. At this point, I just let myself go, the impulse to vomit and vomit. I shut my eyes tight enduring the torture of the piercing pain in my stomach. I peek through my teary eyes and there is still those moving flesh. I recoiled my head to its grotesque form, as though moving sausages with tiny arms sprouting. Some are like eyeless and hairless rats, starting to crawl, all over the blood-stained floor. All my senses tingle with a desire to flee. I gather all my strength left to open the door and get out. Pelting in a military crawl and slipping on my own blood, a pair of feet stood before me. There he is again, in the middle of the unlighted corridor. His hands are on the back of his black robes like he is just observing an animal inside a cage.

"Tommy," I beg. "H-help me."

"They ate her...you ate her...them," he hisses. Then, he points to the bathroom and walks over me. Before the door closed, I saw Tommy plunging his hand into the bowl. I still crawl my way to the nearest room and push the ajar door on my right. Once more, I am repelled by a severe vomit-inducing smell of rotten flesh. And again, I froze. The room is virtually dark, the interior is only made visible by candles of different sizes. Additionally, four candelabras are standing on all sides of some kind of examination table, located in the middle of the room where it's the brightest.

With a reeling of horror, I see two ghostly figures floating in the profound darkness. I dare not enter further; my face waxen as though all my blood left my body. Hazy figures were starting to form as I peered longer inside the gloomy room. As my vision adjusts, it is undoubtedly Tommy's room, for it is filled with shelves of demonic artifacts.

Incapacitated at the doorway, I turned my head to the bathroom door. Just when Tommy exits the gruesome bathroom, tears start to pour down my cheeks.

As he stands there, over the threshold, his small arms are laden with pink blobs, throbbing and clawing at his shirt.

"Tommy, what's going on?" I sob. However, he did not pay any attention. He merely shakes his head and mumbles "They're not ready."

Repeating it until he marches past me again. His black robes billowing as he enters the very same dimly lit room. I linger on the parquet floor while he carefully places those moving flesh in a basin inside.

"You have to bring her back, or at least all of her puppies," he smirks.

He walks towards me and heaves me up to the center of the room. Wishing this is just some sick joke he's playing like he used to do, I lie down on the table. Beside it is a cart, and on top of it are tools aligned on a tray. My hand's still rubbing my stomach as I am bathed by the bright light above the ceiling. Soon enough my eyes adapt as I sit up supported by my elbows. Tommy offers a glass containing what seems to be a transparent liquid.

"Drink this," he says. And a pang of strong scent billows inside my nose: the smell of alcohol. "Why?" And without another thought, he forces it into my mouth. A wave of nausea made my insides rolling. Rapidly burning my throat like swallowing blades. Uncle Bob used to say Vodka calms the nerves. It can even boost your mood or make you feel happy. But how can I? When I don't even know what's happening anymore.