Page 132 of Ruin Me Gently

I barely made it to the toilet before I dropped to my knees and vomited, hard, heaving everything up in violent waves, fingers gripping porcelain as I gasped for air between each retch.

Had I been drinking?

I squeezed my eyes shut, forehead pressed to the rim, sweat prickling at my spine. My stomach clenched again, emptying itself, my body purging something I didn’t even remember taking in.

Everything hurt. My limbs, my ribs, the deep ache in my skull pulsing with every ragged breath.

Right. Painkillers.

I pushed back onto shaky legs, bare feet sinking into soft carpet as I entered my bedroom—weird.

I stepped out of my room, rubbing at the bridge of my nose as I blinked against the blinding light.

My house felt… off.

Had I rearranged something? Moved furniture around in some kind of drunk, delirious state? I must have gotten hammered.

That would explain the skull-crushing headache, the dryness coating my mouth like sandpaper.

I stretched my arms above my head, grimacing as sharp, hot pain rippled through my muscles.

Jesus.What did I do last night?

Each step sent another pulse of soreness through my body, the stiffness in my limbs making me feel like I’d run a marathon in my sleep. Did I fall down?

I kept walking, feet padding softly against the smooth flooring.

Huh, when did I float downstairs?

Weird. Whatever.

I found the kitchen and reached for the nearest cupboard.

Empty.

I tried another. Plates.

Another. Mugs.

Come on, where are my painkillers?

I knew I had some. I’d bought them a few days ago. I always kept them in the top drawer, right next to the cutlery, because that made the most sense.

“Lilith? You’re awake?”

“Yeah?” I mumbled, not looking up, still rifling through drawer after drawer.

“Lilith,” the voice came again, a little closer this time. “What are you doing?”

“I need painkillers,” I muttered, frustration creeping in as my fingers closed around nothing but empty space and unfamiliar objects. “I know I bought some. Where the fuck are my drawers?”

A hand brushed my arm, and I jerked back, fast and hard, straight into the edge of a counter.

Blinding pain exploded up my side.

“Don’t,” my voice cracked. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

My breath came hard, too loud in my ears, pulse slamming against my ribs as I clutched my hip. The pain was intense, zapping my nerves like something had splintered apart inside me.

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