Albert
The nausea hadn’t left for days and the feeling was killing me.
It gnawed at the pit of my stomach like a parasite, swirling heat and bile in sickening spirals until I could barely stand upright. My forehead burned constantly, sweat sticking to my shirt like glue, and my muscles ached with the weight of exhaustion I couldn’t explain.
Every step was heavy, every blink felt like a struggle against sleep. I just wanted to sleep and get lost in oblivion.
I had barely eaten. Everything smelled rotten. Even water left an aftertaste I couldn’t stomach.
And still, still, I told myself I was fine.
I told myself that if I just kept going, kept pretending, everything would balance out. That if I stayed far enough from Edward and patient enough with Emon, things would settle. Return to n
