I wake up to my head throbbing and my body aching. A sudden wave of nausea hits me, and I know I’m about to throw up. Desperately, I run, trying to figure out which door leads to the bathroom. I reach the main bedroom door and fling it open, only to see Matteo standing guard. Panicking, I slam the door shut and scramble to the next door, which turns out to be a closet. The nausea is getting worse. Finally, I find the right door and burst into the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I start throwing up.
It’s mostly dry heaving since I haven’t eaten anything, just the remnants of that Long Island Iced Tea. Each heave sends sharp pain through my already aching body. Tears stream down my cheeks as I struggle to catch my breath.
Through the haze of my misery, I hear Lazarus callin
