Anathema

seventeen - migraine

Waking up had a way of refreshing the day - even though Tyler rarely ever wanted to wake up. But this Sunday didn't feel like a new day.

Eventually, his mother fell asleep, and he sat there alone, holding her hand tightly and watching the clock change from 2:00 to 3:30 to 4:45, and eventually to 7:50, when his father usually woke up on weekends. He'd never had a migraine like this before. It had been a few years since his last one, and he'd forgotten how horrible it was. He wanted to curl up and close his eyes and pass out to escape the pain, but every time he moved, his stomach churned and he nearly threw up. It almost hurt more to close his eyes. He dug his knuckles into his temples and his eyes, desperate for something to drive the pain away.

For once, Clancy and Nico were completely silent. They didn't even get up and move around like they usually did. He was so grateful, and wanted to tell them, but he couldn't speak. His voice stuck in his throat like a fly on a bit of honey, and seemed to tear his flesh apart when it tried to free itself. All he could do was make a soft croaking cry.

His mother shifted at the sound and slowly straightened up, rubbing her neck. "Tyler?" she asked, yawning. "How do you feel?"

"Worse," he breathed.

"What can I get you?"

"Nothing."

"Headache?"

He just nodded slightly.

"Let's get you back in bed," she said softly.

Slowly, she climbed to her feet and helped him stand. The room tipped as his vision flashed white for a moment, and then his stomach lurched and bile rose up in his throat. "I have to throw up," he whispered. "I'm - I'm going to..."

"Can you make it to the bathroom?" his mother asked, taking a step with him. He nodded, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn't make it.

She wrapped her arm around his waist to brace him against her, and together, they staggered out of his room and down the hall to the bathroom. His heart was racing and he thought he'd pass out at any second. He kept his eyes shut tightly to try and block out the pain, but it was no use. It only allowed the tears to spill freely down his cheeks. He collapsed on his knees in front of the toilet and heaved, but nothing came up. His insides wrenched and twisted, but all he could do was cough and cry and wish he'd just vomit and get this over with.

He felt his mother kneel next to him and gently rub his back, sending comforting tingles down his spine, and he shivered violently. He lurched again, and this time, he managed to bring something up. And suddenly he couldn't stop. He threw up over and over again, sobbing until he couldn't distinguish the two disgusting sounds from each other.

His head was going to explode. His brain was going to burst past his skull and squeeze out his eyes and nose and ears. He couldn't take this any longer.

"I'm going to get some crackers and some water, and when you think you can eat something without throwing up, I'll get you some medicine, okay?" his mother said.

He tried to nod, but even that tiny movement hurt too much. He didn't think he'd be able to eat anything today, but his mother said it was too dangerous to his insides if he took his medicine without something in his stomach. He didn't think he'd make it through today without his medicine.

When she came back, he forced himself to nibble on a cracker, even though his stomach churned in protest and he was sure it wouldn't stay down. He couldn't even ask for his medicine. His voice didn't come out, and his brain jumbled all the words together.

His mother handed him the pill and he put it in the back of his mouth. He spilled most of the water down his shirt, but managed to swallow the pill without throwing it back up. Every time he swallowed, he almost gagged, but nothing came up.