Stalked By A Serial Killer

Chapter Eleven: Hangover's A Bitch

There's going to be a double update tonight! I'm moving and I lose my internet tomorrow, so this'll make up for my brief absence.

Chapter Eleven: "Hangover's A Bitch."

I WAKE UP ON the familiar soft sofa wrapped in my favourite blanket. The first thing I feel is my head pounding faster than my heart is beating.

I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I grab hold of my intestines, racing as fast as I can to the bathroom. I feel it coming up my throat, when I suddenly lose my vision and fall up a step, and I can't move. It's like my body has an elephant sitting on my back. My eyes widen as I start gagging, and I cover my mouth, hoping to make it, but instead my stomach empties itself on me and the shiny marbled flooring beneath my body. Shit.

I stop vomiting, and don't feel emptied, so I get my strength back and continue to race to the bathroom. As I swing open the door, another batch comes up and I kneel, letting out my stomach's contents into the toilet bowl.

I feel my hair being pulled up and out of my face after my fifth puke session.

"I'm sorry for puking on your floor." I groan, holding the sides of the toilet.

"I know," he sighs. "It's fine."

"I was just–" I begin, but I get cut off my another round of getting sick. I spit. "Angry."

"I know, Jo."

"I'll clean it up, don't worry." I spit out some more mucus, getting rid of a small amount of the bad taste of alcoholic lemonade and tacos.

"No, don't worry about it. I'll clean it up later." He answers.

I nod my head slowly, the pain hitting my skull like a hammer putting a nail in a wall. "Are you mad at me?"

Tyler doesn't answer for a few long moments. He sighs, and answers, "No."

"You sound like you are," I murmur.

"I'm not mad at you, Jo." He says. "I was just worried about you. You ignored all our calls, and didn't tell anyone where you went. And judging by your behaviour, I know now."

"Is it that hard to tell?" I moan.

"You put up quite a fight with Charlie, and I'm really happy about that. But I don't expect you to try to kill yourself from intoxication."

My shoulders lift up and down, a soft cry escaping. "I was just so upset and angry and I just. . . I don't know."

"I know, sunshine." He gives me a sad smile. "At least tell me you drank not on an empty stomach."

I shake my head, "No, I did, but I ate tacos after my third bottle?" Tyler sighs, and I start feeling more guilty. "I'm. . . I'm really sorry for not telling you where I was." I whisper. "I know I shouldn't have ran off like that and that I should have told someone where I was headed. I especially should've at least–" I stop, feeling my throat swell, and throw up a few more times, Tyler holding my hair up once more. "Told you." I spit more. "God, I'm really beating myself up for this right now."

"I told you, Jo. It's alright. I do agree with you though; you shouldn't have drank, especially after getting surgery that involved internal bleeding. And, you should have at least, bare minimum, told me. I was worried sick about you. I didn't know if you went off to kill yourself, kill someone else, smash something, anything."