Page 39 of Ravaged Souls

Iwokeupthenext morning with a huge hangover. My body ached and my stomach twisted. Bile ruthlessly burned up my throat.

Oh, FUCK!

I dove out of bed and raced to the bathroom, barely making it there before my insides began spewing from the outside.

“FUCK!”

I puked again, and again, crying out as I gripped my stomach, regretting how much I’d drank last night. My stomach felt like it’d gone straight through a blender.

“SAMARA?!”

Sky flung my bathroom door open, gasping as she found me sitting on the floor, my head resting against the side of the toilet lid as I vomited. She rushed to haul up my hair in her hands, holding it back while I dry heaved.

“That’s it. Get it out. You’re gonna be okay.”

Tears rushed down my face as I lifted my head. “I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying,” she promised. “You’re just hungover. Happens to all of us.”

My eyes fluttered shut, then soon opened as I felt a hand slapping against my face. “Samara, wake up. Don’t go to sleep. You have to wake—oh, fuck!”

I puked again, and again, damn near screaming at the top of my lungs as I struggled to keep my head over the toilet. When my guts calmed down, I breathed, heaving in deep mouthfuls of air that did nothing but make it worse.

“Hang on. I’m gonna get you some help.”

Sky left my side amid my desperate pleas for her to stay. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I was certain I’d passed out. When my eyes opened again, there was a guy hovering over me, holding a glass of something that looked exactly like what I’d thrown up.

“Drink this,” he said, his voice laced with concern. My vision was blurry, so I couldn’t get a full view of his face.

“God?” I questioned. “Am I dead?”

“Far from it,” the guy chuckled. “Drink, Samara. This will help you feel better.”

Again, my vision was blurry, and I felt like straight ass, but if whatever the hell was in that glass would help fix the problem, I’d take it. Reaching up, I accepted the drink.

And Jesus fucking Christ it was disgusting.

“Give it a few minutes to kick in. It’s my mom’s recipe for hangovers. It tastes like ass, but I promise it works like a charm.”

I whimpered and guzzled it down as someone reached across from me to flush the toilet. When the glass was empty, two sets of hands lifted me off the floor and guided me back to my bedroom.

“Brian,” Sky called out. “I need a damp wash cloth and two Tylenol.”

I lay back in bed, on my side, groaning. Sky rubbed my back and after a few minutes had passed, I was being force fed pills and a tasteless glass of water to wash them down.

“Lay back,” Sky demanded.

I did as she said, groaning again as something cold brushed across my forehead, down my cheeks, and across my mouth.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” I muttered.

“You partied hard last night,” said Brian. “You were chucking back beer left to right, not to mention the shit ton of tequila shots after that. You could hardly stand straight so Sky and I had to carry you back here to the dorm.”

“There was fucking tequila?” I moaned in pain. “Why don’t I remember that?”

“Because it was tequila,” giggled Sky. “The song is wrong. It doesn’t make your clothes fall off. It just makes you black out drunk instead.”

“What time is it?”

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