Liminal Space | A Stardew Valley FanFiction

Chapter 10

The hurricane fostered a certain degree of musicality—the rhythmic taps of pelting rain, the thunderous booms on every other down beat, the wind wailing in the background like a sea of brass instruments. It was comforting, in the most bizarre way, to pinpoint some kind of routine in the middle of this chaos.

I awoke suddenly around four—only an hour and some change after I'd finally fallen asleep—a hangover churning in my stomach. The storm's melody danced around the room and tried to soothe the anxiety that immediately swelled in my chest, but it couldn't mask the sound of what was happening directly beside me.

You've got to be kidding me.

Sebastian's bed was creaking, almost in unison with the crashes outside, soft moans leaking from the heap of entangled bodies hidden beneath the covers. The comforter clung to Abigail's back and fluttered upwards where there was too much movement, revealing one of Sebastian's hands gripping her waist and the other latched onto the headboard; his sharp jawline and crooked nose pointed towards the ceiling; her name on his tongue.

It was a horrible feeling; a gut-wrenching, life-altering feeling. For a terrible moment, I watched, my jaw on the ground and my dinner in my throat. His voice was guttural, his fingers tightening around her and the bedframe, her lips on his lips, and his dick literally inside of her as I sat helplessly on the floor, mere feet away.

Worst of all, it wasn't even them fucking that sent me over the edge.

It was the sound of their muffled giggles and heavy breathing—the after —that gutted me most.

God , I couldn't take it anymore. It was a pathetic position to be in, and only an even more pathetic person would sit here and take it. Internalize it. Convince themselves that somehow, someway, they deserved it.

I sprung to my feet and raced up the stairs, my brain refusing to care about the volume of my footsteps. I felt sick—probably from the exhausting combination of leftover alcohol and an oncoming panic attack. I tried to make it to the upstairs bathroom, but I couldn't.

I threw up in the kitchen sink, hanging my head in the basin for a moment longer than I truly needed to. I washed it away and stewed in the shame, the embarrassment, the horror of it all. The scent of dish soap masked the last remaining evidence of what I'd just done, the bubbles slowly popping and disappearing down the drain.

"Callie," Robin's voice said gently from behind me.

I turned around to see her sitting at the table, a steaming mug in hand. My heart almost leapt out of my chest.

"Oh, god," I groaned, burying my face in my hands. "You weren't sitting there the whole time, were you?"

"Unfortunately for us both, I was."

"Robin, I am so sorry," I started, tears pricking the backside of my eyes. "It's all clean, but rest assured, I will be back first thing in the morning to scrub it with bleach and vinegar and baking soda and whatever else the internet suggests. I—"

"Callie, it's okay," she chuckled lightly. "I have two kids, I've dealt with my fair share of puke in bad places. The sink is probably in my top three most desirable locations, if I'm being honest. Bonus points for being a champ and cleaning it up yourself—that's a new one for me."

I sighed and sat across from her, letting my head fall to the table. "I'm sorry."

"No need to keep apologizing. Are you alright?"

"Yes," I lied. "I get anxiety after drinking, and I probably had a little too much, anyway. I didn't want to—I didn't want to wake the girls, so I tried to make it to the bathroom up here. I failed, clearly. This is humiliating."