Untimely Love (Book 3)

♤Chapter 14♤

My hands trembled against my skin. I held my breath when I felt myself gagging for the thousandth time in the past minute. I curled into myself smaller as I squeezed my body pillow tighter, my back pressing against the hardwood of my headboard.

  My eyes stung and the headache I'd had for the past few hours didn't seem like it was going away. It kept pounding at my temples and the back of my head. I wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop.

  Tears welled in my closed eyes and acid burned at the back of my throat.

  I flew out of bed, falling to my knees at the dustbin next to my side table, and cried while whatever was left in my stomach forced itself out. I half expected to see blood in the trash when I finished.

  I fell back on my ass and leaned against my bed, wrapping my arms around my legs and placing my forehead against my knees. Something sharp and jagged carved against my insides. There was nothing there. It was all in my head, but I pressed my hand against my chest anyway, trying to push the feeling away.

  The door to my room opened. I didn't look up but my breathing sped when my chest tightened and throat closed.

  Usually, when my mom came home, she only came in so I knew she was home. This time it was different. She didn't have to say anything for me to know, it felt different.

  "Look at me," she demanded. She didn't shout at me and that somehow made it worse.

  I haven't gotten my ass whooped since I was probably eleven, but that was the energy I was getting right now from her. I deserved it.

  "Ariana," she said, her voice getting higher.

  I raised my head and turned but didn't look at her. My face was wet and hot, I could hardly breathe and my body shook with every shallow breath. I felt gross, and if I looked at her, see the disappointment, I didn't know what my body would do next. I hated that she was seeing me like this. I wished I was eighteen so I could've handled this alone. Or at least, had a car. No one else should've known.

  I dropped my face into my hands and sobbed. I felt like I was festering from inside out—like the emptiness I felt was somehow cracking and giving way to something worse—something darker.

  I wanted to tell her I was sorry, but what good would that do if I couldn't even get a comprehensible word out. I was sorry for everything. Not even just this. Every bad, selfish, stupid thing I've ever done. If I was ever irritating or annoying or overbearing to anyone. Even then, I didn't want the pain to go away because I deserved it. I did this to myself.

  My bedroom door creaked and I prayed she was leaving. That she'd leave me to bear this on my own because I could. I would.

  My mom's hand rested on my arm. I didn't expect anything, but when her arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a tight hug, I let it happen. I didn't have a choice because she didn't give me a chance to pull away as much as I wanted to.

  "It's okay," she said and I cried harder. She didn't stop saying it and I didn't stop crying for a long time.

I got the call today in class. I didn't answer it but I knew it was the doctor. I'd gotten blood drawn, not thinking much of it because I'd done it before. I called them back when I got home today. It was Tuesday so I didn't have to go to the plant shop and it was a good thing I hadn't. I didn't know how long my mom knew, but I knew they told her today.

  She was sitting at the end of my bed. I felt her eyes on me while I hadn't been able to lift my gaze from my crossed legs for the past half an hour. She'd given me that much time to be ready to talk about everything.