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Excerpt (first page): Every inch of my body is ablaze. What felt like a tingling, humming warmth not even an hour ago is now a roaring flame, screaming from somewhere in the depths of my skin. Buried in my core, hiding ineffectively below the fire is where the bile swims and sloshes with a sting slithering towards my throat, threatening me with its presence on every exhale. The flames lock me in place, but the venom of the bile bites hard and loosens my knees as I drop to the gravel driveway. I’ve been standing here for too long. How long has it been? Standing is of the past now as I double over and land, loose rock digging into my knees and palms. Now the bile is on fire, and I vomit into the ground in front of me.
Heaving breaths tear me into consciousness and I rub my eyes. Rolling off my stomach and onto my back to help steady the breathing, I toss the deep plum comforter down past the waist and reach an arm over to tap the screen of my phone before letting it fall at my bedside. It lights up instantly, 3:29 AM displayed in bold across the top. Great. Nothing like an hour of sleep after being up since 7am yesterday to recoup from exhaustion. My lungs tame themselves, but there’s an abhorrent lack of saliva present in my mouth. I use my draping arm to reach under the side of the bed in search of water.
After four unsuccessful attempts with empty bottles, two shoes that don’t belong to each other, a bowl of cereal that wasn’t quite empty, and two coffee mugs, the mission has failed and there’s foul-smelling milk on my fingertips. A moment of contemplation to just roll back over and try to keep sleeping passes, but the odor of my hand is growing a bit and I’m still thirsty. Two feet slowly leech out from under the covers and as they hit the floor I adjust to sitting up, but the left foot hits the mess that’s no longer hidden and knocks one of the shoes right into the bowl, knocking it over.
Just what I needed, curdling milk with cereal dust sprinkled in it all over the carpet and splashed onto the bottom corner of the nightstand. I abandon the impromptu science experiment and rummage through the laundry pile on the desk chair to find socks. Some of the clothes fall over, and I curse myself while abandoning that failed mission and head for the hallway. My still sock-less feet cause a small twinge as the carpet abandons me at the bedroom door in favor of the cold hardwood that covers the rest of my journey. With slow, calculated steps I get past Jenny’s room and reach the somehow even colder tile of the kitchen.