MACEY
I woke up the next morning feeling like absolute death. My stomach churned before I was even fully conscious, that awful twisting feeling that warned me something terrible was about to happen. For a few seconds, I just lay there, trying to breathe through it. Maybe if I didn’t move, it would go away.
It didn’t.
I groaned, rolled to my side, and before I could even think twice, I was on my feet—well, kind of. Half stumbling, half tripping—making a beeline straight to the bathroom. The moment I got there, I didn’t even have time to shut the door. I fell to my knees and barely managed to lift the toilet lid before I started throwing up.
It was bad. The kind of bad where you swear you’re throwing up your entire insides.
I heard footsteps a second later—quick, heavy ones—and the
