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The Sixth Day
Isabella Hawthorne A wave of nausea hit me like a rogue wave, pulling me from sleep. My eyes fluttered open, instantly drawn to the pale light filtering through the curtains. Morning. It was supposed to be the sixth day of Damien's… my stomach lurched again, sending a jolt of panic through me. Damien hadn't returned. But the worry would have to wait. I scrambled out of bed, the world tilting precariously for a moment before I made it to the bathroom. Reaching the cool porcelain of the sink, I doubled over, letting the violent expulsion rack my body. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision as dry heaves followed. Just then, the bathroom door creaked open and a flurry of concerned brown eyes met my reflection in the mirror. Ashley. "Izzy? Oh my gods, are you okay?" she rushed
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