Page 70 of Provoke You

“Is he still here?”

“He left.” She wheeled me into a room and moved me to a bed. “The doctor will be in soon to see if we need to pump your stomach.”

“Why?” I made an effort to sit up, but she pushed me down.

“You ingested an incredible amount of alcohol.” Her eyes showed real pity for me. All the nurses always felt pity for me.

The moment she mentioned the booze, my stomach grumbled, and I heaved. She was right. My breath wreaked of undigested vodka. I swallowed, and the taste lingered in the back of my throat. What the fuck happened?

Propping me up with one arm, the nurse held a container for me. I’d been in this situation so many times in the past five years since Grans passed away, when I’d spent my nights partying and drinking myself silly. I tasted bile in the back of my throat for a second before it all rushed out of me.

Two other nurses sprang into action as soon the second round started. One hung a new saline bag over my bed as the other woman brought extra containers and wet towels. My mouth hurt, my legs, and arms. My entire being just hurt. Yes, this was a familiar scene for me.

Please don’t let Matt see me like this.

If they told him I almost died, it would crush him after I promised him I would never drink again. Would he believe I didn’t do this to myself? I would make him believe me. He had to know I was stronger than Dad thought me to be.

After I found out about the sale of the hotel being final, the thought of easing the pain with a drink didn’t even cross my mind. How did I end up with so much alcohol in my system? Was Dad there before, when I fell in front of the restaurant? Or was it all a dream?

Matt, please believe me. I didn’t do this.

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