Vomit

Nothing comes out. Vomit. Relief. Nothing comes out. Dry heave. Nothing comes out. Vomit. Relief. Taste. Michelle walks shakily to the sink. Hunched. Rinse. Water. Less taste. Doorknock.
“I'm fine. I just need a minute.”
Mouthwipe. Handtowel. Michelle checks her hair in the mirror. Disheveled. Stressed. Strained. Teased. Made fun of. She picks up her purse. Back into the party.

NOISE. TALKING. STRANGERS. FRIENDS. DRINKS. SMOKE.
Michelle isn't drunk. Why did she throw up? Michelle isn't sick.
Rachel approaches. Rachel's wearing a stupid necklace. Her boyfriend Brett is probably off making out with someone else. They don't care about each other. They're sick. They should vomit every time they kiss.

Rachel is suspicious.
“Have you seen Brett?”

Michelle will never.
“No.”

Michelle will never again.
“Help me find him.”

COMMAND. GUILT. SUBSERVIENCE.
“Ok.”

Michelle and Rachel begin their adventure!!
This is something to do! They were both bored, but now they have PURPOSE. They have DIRECTION. They are playing a game. The rules are simple.
Rules are simple.
When people break simple rules, things get complicated. Thou shalt not sleep with thine best friend's boyfriend because that's, like, totally messed up.
Michelle is going to vomit RIGHT NOW. Wait.
Michelle's vomit decides to wait instead. But Michelle might vomit. She should be ready to vomit. In case her vomit decides to vomit. Leave. Expel itself. Expatriate itself from her. Head north for the winter. Head south for the winter. Excuse itself in a timely manner.
It's getting late. It's probably getting late. What time is it? Is it getting late?
Michelle checks her phone.

LOUD NOISES. TALKING. LAUGHING. DRINKING.
Michelle forgets what time her phone just told her.

Michelle checks her phone.
Late.
She hasn't had her period yet.
Late.
The Hello Kitty phone charm jangles with the few coloured beads still attached. The rest have fallen off. She remembers that there were a few more beads the weekend before last. She remembers seeing her phone on the bedside table and thinking about the charms. It must have been horrible sex for her to have been distracted enough to remember a detail like that. It wasn't great. She doesn't remember most of it. She remembers that it wasn't that great. Bad sex. Shouldn't have happened. Vomit-worthy.
Rachel pulls Michelle into the kitchen. The kitchen is quiet.

Rachel is stupid.
“Where is he?”

Michelle is stupid.
“I don't know.”

Rachel is naïve.
“Can I tell you something? I think he's cheating on me.”

Michelle is a bad friend.
“What makes you think that?”

Rachel's instincts are not stupid.
“He's always busy now. And the weekend before last, when I was out of town, he told me he wasn't going to any parties, but Jennifer said she saw him at Dylan's party. Weren't you there?”

Michelle is a liar.
“Yeah. I didn't see him there.”

Girls go upstairs. Girls go into Bedroom 1. Girls find two boys who are supposed to be straight engaging in gay activities together. Girls gasp. Girls exit Bedroom 1. Girls talk quickly about possibly gay boys. Girls judge boys and declare mutual intentions. This private of love between two people will become as public as possible. Girls laugh. Girls enter Bedroom 2. Bedroom 2 is a child's room. No one feels comfortable engaging in adult activities in a child's room. Bedroom 2 is occupied by two people who do not notice the sea of brightly coloured toys they’re swimming in. Each one is independently racing to his/her finish line. Girls exit Bedroom 2. Girls laugh, part 2. Girls enter Bedroom 3. Bedroom 3 contains: one boyfriend, one Slutty Bitch. Girls experience different emotions. Boyfriend notices Girls. Slutty Bitch does not recognize Girls. Slutty Bitch continues being a Slutty Bitch all over Boyfriend. Girls exit Bedroom 3. Girl 1 cries. Girl 2 feels nothing but the fulfillment of pessimistic expectations.

Michelle goes into the bathroom. Vomit.
Michelle wonders if morning sickness can happen at night.

Run

Fuck fuck fuck. You're out of breath. Choking. Where are you?
You look around while you catch your breath. Revive. You're in the highschoolparkinglot. Fuck. This place is too open. You need to find cover. You need to hide. You need to find a weapon. You're in dire need. Fuck fuck fuck.
You run straight ahead. Where are you going? Where are you going to go? What's the plan? Fuck.
Your legs hurt. Your legs are suffocating. Your legs aren't getting enough oxygen. Fuck.
The HIGHWAY. Maybe there will be someone on the HIGHWAY who can help you. Maybe you can look extra weak and innocent and when they pull over, you can slit their throat and take their car as your own. Bestplan. You run.
You pause and lean on the side of a building for a moment. It's a house. You're leaning on someone's home. Used to be someone's home. You're leaning on a building. Your lungs are screaming. They aren't being treated fairly. They are making demands. If you don't stop mistreating them, they will go on strike. Your eyes quickly scan around you. Broken glass. Bottles aren't any good as weapons. Neither is a jagged piece of glass. Even with a rag to wrap around for a safe handle, it could still break apart, cut your hand, expose your blood.
Panic!
Your hand flies up to check the wetrag over your mouth. It's barely damp. You need to rewet it. You HAVE to rewet it. Maybe you can stop running for a second and rewet the wetrag.
You hear something a few houses away. Homes away. Buildings away. You hear something. Fuck fuck fuck.
You run.
You could have at least taken a tiny glassbit to kill a trusting driver. You could have. You should have. Dammit. Fuck. Fuck it.
You're crying. You've been crying. You aren't crying any longer.
You're scared. You're angry. Stupid fucking- you run through this neighbourhood. Collection of buildings. Graveyard.
Something screams. Someone screams. Which is it? Toward? Away? What are you going to do?
Fuck.
Away.
You fuck off.
Off and away.
You run.
A BAT!!! A FUCKING BASEBALL BAT!
A FUCKINGBASEBALLBATINTHEMIDDLEOFTHEFUCKINGSTREET!!!
You run to the bat. You smile. You cry. You hug your good fortune. You stop smiling.
You are surrounded. You are in a trap. You are caught. You are fucked.