Page 97 of Ink Me Three Times
This suite ismassive.
Almost as overwhelming as the con itself.
But then it doesn’t feel as big with all of us in it, with the energy buzzing between us all. Mitchell might be quiet now, but his gaze is just as intense. Timothy keeps glancing my way as if he fears I might throw up at any given moment. Freddie mightbe distracted by a sugar loaded Penny, but I can stillfeelhim none the less.
I need to go to bed.
Thank God I have my own room and space.
But when I start to brush my teeth, getting ready to finally sleep, the dizziness hits me again… stronger this time, like a sucker punch to the gut. My vision goes blurry, and my head spins.
“Not again,” I mutter, reaching for the sink to steady myself, gripping the edge like it’s my lifeline.
I try to breathe through it, but it only makes everything worse. My mouth is dry, my limbs feel weak, and my stomach turns as though it wants to leap out of my body. I swear I can hear my pulse in my ears, but everything feels distant, like I’m watching my own body from the outside.
I step back, but my legs feel like jelly. I clutch at the counter, fighting the urge to collapse.
“What the hell is going on with me?” I whisper to myself, but the words seem pointless.
I try to take a deep breath, but my chest feels tight. It’s like something’s wrong, something I can’t pinpoint, but I can’t ignore it anymore. The dizziness isn’t just from the noise or the exhaustion.
I tell myself it’s probably nothing, maybe I’m just dehydrated or running on empty from too much socializing. But the sensation doesn’t go away.
It’s as if my body’s trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.
I take another unsteady step back from the sink, but my legs are too weak to hold me up. I grip the counter again, trying to stay upright. I feel the pull of the bed calling me, but even the thought of lying down makes me uneasy. What if I don’t wake up? What if I just keep falling and can’t stop?
But I don’t have much of a choice.
I push away the thought, the nausea, the dizziness, and, finally, I manage to steady myself enough to stumble into the bedroom.
I collapse into the bed with a heavy sigh, sinking into the soft sheets like they’re the only thing that can keep me grounded right now. The bed’s too big, the room’s too quiet. But for some reason, it’s all I need right now. The dim lighting from the bedside lamp feels distant, like it belongs to someone else’s life.
I let the darkness swallow me up, praying for some rest, knowing tomorrow will be just as crazy, just as loud, just as overwhelming. And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.
But I don’t have a choice, do I?
Tomorrow, I’ll get up. Tomorrow, I’ll pull myself together. Tomorrow, I’ll be strong.
But for tonight, I just need to let go and sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Mitchell
Day two,and I’m already feeling like I’m running on empty.
This should be mything.
Tattoo conventions are supposed to be where I shine.
Show off my work, talk to people who actually get it, maybe land a deal or win some kind of award. I’ve got the skills, the experience. This is what I’ve been working toward.
But all I can think about is Ivy.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about her.
She wasn’t part of the plan.
