I pushed through the bathroom door and was hit with the strong smell of industrial cleaner mixed with stale urine.
It made my nausea worse.
I barely made it into a stall before my body reacted.
I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet.
And then—
It came.
Violent.
Ripping through me in harsh waves.
I retched hard.
My stomach clenched painfully — forcing up nothing but bile and acid.
Again.
Again.
My hands gripped the sides of the bowl as dizziness flooded my vision.
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes — not from emotion, but from physical strain.
My knees pressed against the cold tile.
Another wave hit.
My body shook.
When it finally passed, I stayed there for a few seconds — breathing through the aftermath.
My chest rose and fell rapidly.
Slowly, I flushed.
The sound echoed loudly in the cramped space.
I dragged myself up with effort and staggered toward the sink.
My hands trembled as I turned on the cold water.
I splashed it onto my face.
Once. Twice.
Again.
The chill grounded me.
Helped push back the dizziness.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
Pale.
