JELENA
The dry heaving finally stops, leaving the raw, bitter taste of bile at the back of my throat, I feel like I have officially exhausted everything in my stomach. Leaning my head back against the cold, tiled wall of the bathroom, I let out a ragged sigh of relief. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I try to steady my breathing, the echo of my loud heaving still bouncing off the porcelain surfaces.
What the hell was that, Jelena?
My mind replays the scene outside over and over again, a sickening loop that I cannot shut off. What just happened in that room didn’t look like a sudden lapse in judgment or a hidden, forbidden mistake. No, it looked like something that normally happens in this here as neither of them looked ashamed or showed even a flicker of guilt for the act.
They ca
