Page 148 of Run Away Home: Tempered

“I don’t think you should do that.”

“I don’t care what you think.” He walks slowly over to his closet.

“So, what? You’re just gonna throw up all over everyone there?”

“There’s a bathroom.” He puts on a black shirt.

“Well, you’re just gonna get everyone sick then?”

“Look, I said... I said I’m feeling a little better. Maybe it’s food poisoning or something?” He tries to walk toward me, but he trips over nothing, landing on his hands and knees.

“What the fuck?” I hoist him up and help him onto the bed.

“It’s like...the room is really hot...and spinning. Is it really hot in here?”

“Maybe you should drink more of this Gatorade.” I hand him the bottle. He needs to sleep right now—a deep, deep sleep. I don’t want to see him suffer. I just want this to end.

He tries to hold the bottle, but he drops it. His eyes can hardly focus on me. I push him against the backboard and prop his head up. I untwist the cap and hold it up to his mouth. I’ll help him along. He cannot make it to work. He has to stay home. I can’t get caught. I want to be a part of my baby’s life.

“Swallow it,” I demand.

He drinks it, but after a little while, he tries to push the bottle away from his mouth.

“Hayley, stop,” he says. “I need—” He grabs the garbage can and vomits into it again.

This is not going to work if his body keeps rejecting it! I knew Tristian wasn’t smart enough for this. Fuck!

“I think you’re dehydrated,” I say.

“How the fuck could I be...be dehydrated? Look how much of this, fuck...Gatorade I’ve had?” He stands back up. “Okay...I can do this. Where’re my keys?”

“You’re really about to drive to work? Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah, I am. Sean said... He said if I miss one more night, I’m done,” he slurs. “I had to take almost an entire week off to deal with all this court crap.”

“He also said if you show up drunk—”

“I’m not drunk, and you know that!”

“Okay, well... FYI, you seem drunk. Are you sure you haven’t been drinking?”

“I HAVE NOT BEEN DRINKING!”

“What’s really in that bottle, hmm?”

Tristian and I have a plan. I’m going to tell the investigators he was really drunk. It must have been alcohol poisoning. It’s believable, right? They won’t bother to do an autopsy, I don’t think...right?

“It’s just Gatorade! You can fuckin’ smell it!”

I pick up the bottle and untwist the cap. I sniff it. “Yeah...I don’t know.”

“Taste it if you don’t fucking believe me!”

“No, no. That’s okay.” I twist the cap back on and put the Gatorade down. He picks it up and takes it with him.

“I’m going to work.” He stumbles out of the room. “I just have to take deep...breaths and tell myself I feel fine. I can get through tonight. Mind over...over matter.”

“You’re not driving anywhere!” I follow him into the living room.

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