Eliona's War 1: Hesitant Healer

Chapter 59

The bowl of ground meat sat innocently on the counter, a pale pink mixed with white flecks of fat. It'd been there for a while since Jake had taken it out to thaw for fresh hamburgers. But when Seth looked at it as he passed by, he suddenly saw a severed foot sitting in a pile of blood.

It hit him like a bag of hammers. He jerked back, every muscle recoiling. His stomach violently lurched in a way that let him know he had only moments to spare.

"I—excuse me," he stammered, slipping past Jake's great bulk and fleeing from the kitchen. The diner had a couple of customers in the dining room, so Seth refrained from running past them. Instead, he managed a stiff walk, one hand pressing against his belly.

Tripp glanced up from the table he was wiping down. "Seth?"

"Just a minute," Seth managed as he passed by. The bathrooms were down a short hall at the back of the diner with only a wall to separate them from the kitchen. He sped up, shoving the door open and making a beeline for the only stall in the men's room.

Saliva filled his mouth even as his eyes began to tear, and there was barely enough time to kick the stall door shut and lean over the toilet before bitter bile rocketed up his throat. Since he hadn't eaten the entire day, only a small amount of liquid splashed into the bowl.

Eventually there was nothing left to come up, although his stomach still heaved spitefully. Seth closed his eyes and leaned forward, bracing himself with a hand on the wall. He bit back a groan, refusing to make a sound.

For the whole day, everything had been okay. He managed to keep himself busy all morning doing things like laundry and cleaning his apartment. Both were things he was terrible at, but struggling through them was enough to keep his mind occupied. And then he'd come to work, and that was even better because Jake always had an endless supply of work that needed to be done.

All he had to do was focus on the work and pretend everything was okay.

So why the foot? After everything that had happened, why had that tipped him over the edge? It wasn't even real. Not like—

No. Don't think about it.

His throat burned and his stomach churned. Maybe he should have stayed home today. Though to do that, he'd have to call in sick and explain why, and he couldn't—he couldn't bring himself to talk about it.

Or even think it.

Seth shivered. He straightened, grimacing as stars briefly danced before his eyes. His belly flopped sickeningly, but the worst of the nausea had passed. He grabbed some toilet paper to mop his face then tossed it into the toilet. The contents of the bowl stared back at him, cloudy and pale.

He blinked. Blood filled the bowl, thick and red.

Gasping, he stumbled away, his back thudding into the stall door. His heart pounded in his raw throat while white noise filled his ears. What the heck?!

His eyes had to have been playing tricks on him. There was no way. No possible way. He lifted a trembling hand to his chest, pressing hard against his sternum. He could feel the frantic hammering of his heart.

Seth forced himself to take a deep breath. Then he made himself look in the toilet bowl again. There was no blood this time.

He sagged, and leaned against the side of the stall. I was just seeing things. Probably overtired. And maybe sick. He hadn't slept much in the past two days. Or eaten.

He knew that wasn't very healthy, but he didn't care. It didn't really matter anymore, anyway. Fenn was the one who cared, and now he was gone. There was no one else, and nothing else. What was the point?