The next day arrived swiftly, casting its warm golden glow over everything on earth. Sunlight filtered in through the half-drawn curtains, painting faint patterns across the bedroom walls.
Fred tossed restlessly on the bed, his brows knitting together as discomfort gnawed at him. Before he could even fully register what was wrong, a sharp ache twisted violently in his stomach.
His eyes flew open.
"Oh shit "
The pain jolted him upright, forcing him out of bed as he stumbled toward the bathroom. He barely made it to the sink before vomiting violently, his hands gripping the porcelain edge for support.
He kept retching as though his body was determined to empty itself completely—as if even his intestines weren't safe. His throat burned, eyes watering, breaths coming out shallow and uneven. When nothing else came up, he leaned weakly over the sink, chest heaving.
After a while, the nausea eased slightly.
