A Sharper, More Lasting Pain

Two

Nadia Dupont || Before

The week begins as many of them have recently, with violent vomiting. Pregnancy is out of the question—she hasn't touched a dick since the awkward handjobs in primary school, and she isn't fond of them besides—and she's spent one too many mornings hunched over porcelain to blame her problems on an ill-cooked meal. A lesser person could attribute it to her frequent misuse of Serenity, but such opinions aren't worth listening to.

Nadia's stomach churns like an upset sea as she dares a glance at what she's expelled. The liquid is as dark as mashed licorice candies, a maelstrom of ink. Staring at it makes her want to vomit again. Instead, she clings to the porcelain with leaden limbs.

If she's being honest, there is no real cause to blame. This is part of the pattern she's found herself in for months. Each day bleeds into the next, a rolling ball of agony. Between her inability to have a settled stomach and the creaking her joints make constantly, she can't remember the last time she's been well and truly healthy.

The medics really need to get their shit together.

She's still hunched over when the front door closes. Through the haze building in her brain, she catches the sound and stiffens. The click of Etienne's heels calm her once more.

"Nat, are you home?" As he speaks, she hears his jacket drop, buttons clacking against the wood.

As she opens her mouth to speak, a new wave of bile churns and threatens to spill. With a deep breath, she calls, "Yeah."

The slap of his bare feet draws closer. Nadia reaches for the toilet lid, hands shaking, before reconsidering. Etienne has seen her in worse states before. He's been in worse states before with her.

"Class is gonna star— oh."

She doesn't look behind her—not that she can, given her sudden lack of strength. Instead, she raises a trembling hand and flashes what she hopes is a wave before slumping back down.

"Too much Serenity last night?"

Another wave of bile curdles her stomach. "I would've preferred that."

He drops down beside her, hand on her back. "You look like shit." Then, reaching over her, he hits the lever. She shrinks back as the water swirls and gurgles. Bracing herself against the wall, she throws her head back and examines the flickering blue light of the lamps overhead.

"Is this...?" Etienne starts before falling silent. Then, after a beat, he finds his courage. "Are you sick again?"

Nadia folds her arms, wincing as her muscles tense. I've been sick and didn't get better, she wants to say. Instead, with a resigned sigh, she says, "I don't know."

"Do you want me to copy today's notes? Have you stay home again? I can brew you some tea and get you settled."

Nadia shakes her head. "No." Then, wobbling all the while, she stands. Her stomach takes a hard dip and she again reconsiders. Still, as she meets Etienne's widened eyes, she says, "I think I will be okay for now." She hopes he can't hear the undercurrent of doubt in her own words.

She flinches when she catches her face in the mirror. Thick black rings frame her sunken eyes. Greyness has sucked the vibrancy from her skin. Her soft, rounder stomach has deflated somewhat. Rubbing the dimpled skin as she thinks, she laments the changes to her body.

Etienne meets her gaze through the mirror. "You're starting to worry me."

A harsh laugh spills free before she can stop it. "I'll be fine, Etienne. Nothing can hold me under for long."