Page 100 of A Love That Broke Us
“Fuck! Don’t touch me!” I snap, grimacing.
She goes still, her hand slowly pulling back, but she doesn’t move away.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry, babe. Please don’t touch me. It hurts.” My throat tightens.Jesus Christ, I’m going to cry. No. Hell no?—
A sob wrenches from my chest before I can stop it, and I fucking hate myself for it.
“It hurts. Everything hurts.”
My eyes flick toward her—and the look on her face guts me. Concern. Worry. Suspicion. Love.
But yeah… she definitely knows something’s off.
“I’m so sorry, babe. What can I get you?” she asks softly.
“Nothing.” My voice is barely audible. My breaths are short and sharp through my gritted teeth as another wave of indescribable pain crashes through me.
“This is pretty intense for a stomach virus. Do you wanna go to the ER?”
I squeeze my eyes shut, harder this time, like not seeing her will make the questions stop. Make her stop. Make her leave.
God, I hate having her see me like this. Fucking weak.
I manage to shake my head.
It’s quiet for a moment.
Then the shaking starts. Fuck me sideways, the shaking. Dear God, it’s like my bones are vibrating, like someone plucked a chord deep in my spine and now I’m shuddering with pain. Every part of me feels like it’s been beaten with a sledgehammer.
A sound escapes my lips.Jesus Christ. Did I just whimper?
“Babe…” Her voice is low and steady, but I can hear the fear woven through it. “I’m getting worried. This isn’t normal.”
Her fingers move to my wrist, checking my pulse, quiet and subtle. I feel the weight shift from the bed.
“I’m getting you some water. You need to stay hydrated.”
I barely hear her. I don’t know which way is up or down. I just want this to end.
The bed dips again. “Hey. Jensen. Here. Take a sip.”
She guides a straw to my lips, but I turn my head away.
“Babe, you’re sweating like crazy and puking bile. You’re going to get worse if you don’t get fluids in you.”
I still don’t drink.
“Jensen,” she says again, this time firmer. “You have to drinksomething.”
Her voice cracks, and it’s like a dagger to my chest. I open my eyes and force myself onto an elbow, just high enough to take the straw into my mouth and sip. The cold liquid slides down my throat, and immediately sends my stomach into convulsions. I dry heave. Tears sting as the burn threatens to rise.
“Shit,” Alley says, grabbing the bowl and thrusting it in front of me.
The heaving worsens, and motherfucking God, it hurts more than anything I’ve ever felt. Every gut-wrenching spasm hits on a level I didn’t know existed. Every centimeter of my body quivers with pain too intense to describe.
The tiny sip of water I managed ends up in the bowl.
And I break.
