Oxygen (Catfish And The Bottlemen/1975)

Fliss

When I woke up for a second time that day I was in Van's bedroom, his sheets were cocooned around my body, but he wasn't.
I couldn't remember him leaving.

The bedroom was warm, the kind of balmy humidity that precedes a storm. I felt a kind of static in the hair on my arms as I rolled onto my back at opened my eyes, squinting at the ceiling before blinking them shut again.

The curtains were drawn but a milky orange light crept beneath them and lapped at the sandy coloured carpet beneath the windows.

He'd left the air conditioning on and as I tuned into the hum I tuned into the cool breeze licking at my bare skin. I wrapped the sheets tighter around me.

My arms ached, my legs ached, my chest ached. I couldn't even think about moving. I whimpered quietly to myself and rolled onto my side nestling into Vans pillow and breathing in, out, a sigh of exhaustion.

I was exhausted.

As the sun shrank down, and the milky orange tide which stained the carpet began to retreat and fade out all together, I tried to remember the events which had led me to his room, but I couldn't remember a thing.

I reached to the bedside table for my phone, the little green light flashing had caught my eye, and when I unlocked it I found missed calls and messages from my mother, sister, brother and one from Kitty.
I thought about calling someone back, but then I thought about switching my phone off all together, settling back down beneath the sheets and closing my eyes.

And in the end that sounded better than talking on a long distance call.

I pushed myself up slowly when my tummy started to ache, when the nauseous lump in my throat made her first appearance of the day, and when I felt my body convulse I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned the shower on. With my head resting on the toilet I closed my eyes and struggled with a scrunchy to tie my hair up. I was well rehearsed for this routine but this evening it was somehow worse.

The room tipped side to side and although I kept telling myself it was all in my head, I felt tears in my eyes as I squeezed then shut and begged myself to pass out.

I didn't hear the hotel room door open, but I heard Van stop in the doorway and say my name.

"Fliss?" I asked a little confused. My things were still scattered around his bedroom, but I was nowhere to be found. I tried to call out a little hello, but when I did my body convulsed and shook and my voice failed to break the silence. I gave in and laid my cheek to rest on the cool bathroom floor. The closer I remained to the floor the less far I had to fall.

For a little while there was silence and then the bathroom door handle twisted and I felt the door push against my thigh.

"Fliss you in here?" Asked Van a little confused before he managed to squeeze through the gap in the door and laid his eyes on me. "Fuckin hell girl," he said with an uneasy smile, "whatre we gonna do wi yous ey?" He asked crouching down to lift my head up and sit with me in his lap. His fingers tangled in my hair and brushed soothing little lines down.my bare arms, and I tried my best get a grip. "You think you're coming down properly this time?" He asked and though I struggled to speak through the heart palpitations I managed a weak little nod. "Well shit," he sighed resting his own head back against the wall. "What should I do?" He asked, "should I get you food? Water? Dya need a shower or some painkillers?"

My lips curved into a weak smile, I shook my head.

"I jus need it to stop," I simpered knowing that sooner or later I was going to be sick and I didn't want him to witness that.

"Ey don't worry, it will," he sighed just sitting with me for a moment before eventually deciding that I did need a water. "I'll be back in a minute," he tried to shoot me a reassuring smile but the moment he stood up and left me my head fell back down against the toilet seat and I began to heave.