Eighteen
Mira
The violent urge to puke out my guts ripped me from my sleep, as it had for the past many days now. I rolled out of bed and ran for the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time.
It took me more than twenty minutes before my stomach finally settled down enough that I realized I was wearing the same clothes as I’d been in the night before, rather than my sleep attire.
I frowned at the toilet seat as I rested my forehead against it. Come to think of it, I had no recollection of going to bed last night. The last thing I remembered was the boring alien movie Blaine forced me to watch. I must have fallen asleep on the couch. Which begged the question—how had I made it from the sofa to my bed?
The only logical explanation made me pull my head back up with surprise. Blaine
