Elián;
I open my eyes, and my face scrunches as the first thing I taste… is death.
Not literal death, but if rotten onions, old socks, and burnt iron decided to hold hands and throw a party… it would taste exactly like this. Like the horrific, disgusting smell and taste I woke up to.
I gag… My stomach rolls, and before my brain can even form a prayer, I'm already halfway off the bed, sprinting toward the nearest bowl.
The closest thing to the bed is a vase, and with remorse I can't afford to have right now, I grab it.
I try to force the bile burning up my throat back down.
"Ze…!!" I try to call out, but I don't even get to finish the name.
WUGH!!!
My entire body convulses, and I throw up so aggressively into the poor flower vase, I'm convinced my lungs are about to join the rebellion.
By the time the heaving stops, my eyes are watering, my throat burns, and I'm leaning over the carved, ceramic bowl like it's life support.
