Day 20987983038I’M ON FIRE. I’m sure of it.
Shooting upright, I try to gauge where I am because I’m convinced I swam in a vat of absinthe. My brain isn’t just fuzzy, it’s filled with cotton, and I can’t remember anything. I don’t even know how many days have passed because I feel a billion years old.
How did I get here?
Rubbing my aching temple, I blink sluggishly, hoping some memory will resurface soon. However, when my fingers brush over a dry, flaky substance, I wonder if maybe the memories are hidden for a reason.
Although every inch of me demands I crawl back under the covers, I move my weary body and come to a slow, wobbly stand. The room spins in a kaleidoscope of noise, but when that noise transforms into a gargle and then a death rattle, bile rises in my throat, and I’m going
